They probably should’ve discussed this already, but neither of them had been eager to bring up their personal lives while shooting the pilot. Now, though, she could admit to herself that it wasn’t out of professionalism. She hadn’t wanted to know.
She lowered her glass and shook her head. “I just got out of a longish relationship. Two and a half years, on and off. We broke up before I moved to L.A.; I didn’t want to do the long-distance thing. He lives here, though—we’re actually getting breakfast tomorrow before the flight.”
“Oh yeah? And you’re still holding a candle for him?”
“You mean carrying a torch?”
A self-deprecating smile played at the corners of his lips. “Shit. Holding a candle is, like, no one else can compare, right?”
“Right. Yeah. But no, no flames of any size anymore. We’re just friends. Sort of. I do hate him a little bit. But I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. So…breakfast.”
His eyes glittered with amusement. “Right. Of course.”
“What about you?”
“Well, I don’t know him, but I’m happy to hate him, too.”
She laughed, nudging his shin with the toe of her shoe. “Come on.”
He shook his head, his smile still teasing. “Same as you, nothing serious since I moved to L.A. Although maybe I should’ve locked someone down before all this happened. Now how will I know if anyone likes me for me, or because I’m a big fancy TV star?”
“You won’t. But once you’re drowning in pussy you probably won’t care.”
He snorted. “Nowthere’san image. What a way to go.”
She fought to keep a straight face. “It’s true, though. You should be glad you’re single. It can be tough on a relationship,when one person starts getting a lot of attention. Hard to avoid all that temptation.”
“That’s not really the temptation I’m worried about,” he said, almost to himself, then knocked back the rest of his drink. When he glanced at her again, though, the laughter was gone from his expression.
She knew she was blushing, her reaction hopefully hidden in the low light. She felt tongue-tied and awkward for the first time all night, so she turned back toward the bar, finishing her wine, too.
“It does kinda feel like we have something here, though, doesn’t it?” he asked.
She held his gaze for a long moment, trying to figure out his angle, his expression infuriatingly blank.
“With the show, you mean,” she said.
He nodded. “Yeah. Seems like it might actually go somewhere.” He paused, his eyes flicking over her face. “I’m glad…I’m glad you’re with me. That we’re in this together. I heard it can be lonely at the top.” The side of his mouth quirked up sardonically.
“It can be lonely no matter where you are.” It slipped out more melancholy than she’d expected, and she bit her lip, self-conscious.
His brow creased a little, and he shifted his weight closer. “What about here?”
She shook her head slowly, her gaze never leaving his, unsure what the answer really was. Both felt true: no matter how much she was enjoying his company, she felt a strange, desperate ache expanding inside her the longer they stood there.
She leaned in, murmuring in his ear like they were sharing a secret. “I’m glad you’re with me, too.”
He pressed his hand to her lower back, sending an electric current shooting up her spine, hot and cold all at once.
“What do you think? Another round, or should we call it a night?”
It felt like they were on the verge of something—a wave cresting, lifting them high; it was still unclear whether they’d be able to ride it safely to shore, or whether they’d get pulled under, thrashed, bruised, barely escaping with their lives.
It thrilled her, that unknown. The potential in it. Her heart thundered in her chest, her skin prickling with heat.
They weren’t done yet. They’d hardly even begun.
“I could do one more.” She glanced over at the corner, where two plush armchairs sat angled toward each other across a small table. “Should we move over there? I think I need to get off my feet.”
