“Oh, I think that would be so nice,” I told her. “My moms usually go all out... it would be great to have something like that to look forward to.”
“A Yule feast!” Pearl said with dreamy delight. “It’ll be after the solstice, but we can improvise. Are you familiar with the festival of Saturnalia, Bee?”
“Let’s save the ancient Roman festival talk for later,” Gretchen said. “But I’ll see what we can whip up.”
“Saturnalia doesn’t have whipping,” Pearl said. “You’re thinking of Lupercalia.”
Gretchen turned to her with a smile and Pearl nuzzled against her cheek. I loved the contrast between the two of them so much.
Cast and crew began to trickle in, some of whom were already pretty well tipsy. Angel and Luca drifted over and sat by me, saving me from Maya the makeup artist, who was very intensely involved in the world of cat breeding and finding her cat an eligible bachelor. Catchelor?
With every swing open of the door, my breath hitched as I waited for him to come in. But maybe Nolan was staying in tonight. Maybe he realized that lobster ravioli and karaoke were very un–bad boy of him.
Or maybe itwasweird. Maybe our sex marathon had made things so weird that now there was nothing we could do to unweird it.
I placed an order for eggplant Parmesan, because I had amasochistic sense of humor, and then I leaned into the various conversations around me as my wineglass was filled to the brim with a cheap and delicious white.
Angel and Luca argued passionately over an anime with giant monsters that had eyelash tentacles as Cammy casually asked Pearl about the still MIA last page of the script (while Gretchen tried to jump in and save Pearl before she turned into a skittish deer on a highway). The infamous last page, as it were, was still cooking, apparently.
Across the table, the props master—who was definitely one of Teddy’s porn people—tried to have a serious discussion with the sound mixer about ball-gag sizes.
And then the bell above the door chimed, announcing Nolan. I sighed softly as he pushed his floppy hair off his forehead and hung his leather moto jacket on the coatrack before searching the table for an open seat. He wore fitted houndstooth slacks and a black turtleneck that hugged his biceps.
It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to not call his name.
“Nolan!” Pearl called. “Over here!” She looked expectantly to the PA, who took a moment to realize she needed to find a chair and a space for the duke himself.
I attempted to exhale, but it came out shaky as my chest tightened with expectations and nerves.
A chair was quickly procured and shoved in beside Gretchen, just across from me.
“Good of you to join us,” Gretchen said in a low voice.
“Here.” Pearl shoved a menu in front of his startled face. “There’s still time to order.”
Behind him, an older woman with white hair and a red velvet vest appeared, ready to take his order.
Nolan’s eyes scanned the offerings. “I’ll take the lobster ravioli.”
My lips split into a wide grin as Nolan’s gaze caught mine.
He raised one brow in question, and I smiled, my cheeks flushing, as I shook my head.
As the food trickled out to the table, Gretchen and Nolan traded war stories about teenage fame and figured out the few occasions they’d been in the same place at the same time.
“But surely you were at the Teen Choice Awards the year Kallum dropped his surfboard on Winnie Baker’s foot?” Nolan asked.
Gretchen’s jaw went slack. “He what?”
“Oh yeah. And then he took that picture of her passed out in the car during the after-after-party, and there was that whole thing about how ‘virginal, girl-next-door role model Winnie Baker’ was actually a secret party girl who drank too much.”
“That I do remember,” Gretchen said, shaking her head. “So that must have been the same year the paparazzi climbed up to Isaac and Brooklyn’s room at the Sunset Tower.”
The light reflected off the dark sapphire flecks in Nolan’s eyes as they widened, and I found myself polishing off my second glass of wine. “Oh my God... I remember reading about that,” I said.
Gretchen nodded solemnly. “I think we all blocked out more during that time in our lives than we even realize.”
I had never really thought about it. My memories of Nolan from then were elaborate fantasies in my head based on someone I didn’t even know, but puberty and high school were hard enough. Experiencing that under a microscope? That was a recipe for trauma if I’d ever heard one.
