“Hello, stranger.” My voice comes, sounding flirty and bold. Good start.
Blake turns, and I swear, his jaw drops. I feel another tremor of nerves, but they melt away when I recognize the familiar look in his eyes, the one I’ve seen from plenty of guys since my transformation, but never from him.
Desire.
He blinks at me in disbelief.
“Zoey?” he says, sounding uncertain. “Holy shit, what happened to you?”
Play it cool, I remind myself. Easy, breezy, like he’s been the last thing on your mind.
I arch an eyebrow. “Good to see you too.”
I sashay over and lean in to kiss him on both cheeks, the way I learned in Europe. I leave a smudge of scarlet on his skin, so I reach up and wipe it away. He looks confused. “Sorry, Paris,” I explain, kicking myself for the familiar gesture.
“Uh, hey,” Blake recovers. “Welcome back. Is it just a vacation visit?”
“It depends,” I say.
“Uh, depends on what?” Blake asks. His gaze drifts down my body, all the way to my peep-toe sandals, the ones that usually make me feel invincible. But now, I feel stripped naked under his blue eyes, my heart beating so loudly in my chest I swear he can hear it over the muffled sound of the music inside.
You.
I bite back the truth. “You’ll see,” I answer cryptically instead. “But, yes, I’m back.”
“Tegan will be happy, I know she missed you,” Blake smiles.
“Me too.” I try to relax. This is Blake, I remind myself. Not some stranger. I know him. “I missed all of you guys,” I add, thinking of the whole Callahan family: Tegan, and their two other brothers too. “Europe is a long way from home.”
I take the spot beside him and lean out to watch the dark shadow of the ocean play along the distant shore. “So what’s your resolution?” I ask, trying to sound flirty.
My dress strap slips lower on my shoulder, but I fight the urge to pull it back up. ‘Don’t be scared to be sexy!’ my co-worker at the magazine, Elise, was always ordering me, so now I leave it hanging on my arm even though it makes me feel like my whole dress is about to come down.
Blake shrugs. “I guess… Make some great movies this year,” he smiles. “Not screw up and wind up waiting tables again to make a living.”
I laugh. “No way. We all knew you had the talent, it just took the world a little while to catch on.”
“You haven’t seen me act,” Blake retorts, teasing.
“Sure I have,” I remind him. “I remember a certain show you did one Christmas…”
“No!” Blake bursts out laughing. “God, why would you remind me about that?”
“Come on,” I tease him, “you were the hunkiest Ebenezer Scrooge that Santa Monica ever saw.” He dressed up as a surfer Scrooge and played scenes on the promenade for fifty bucks. His brothers never shut up about it; we teased him all year.
Blake groans. “I swear, that wig and beard gave me a rash. How do you even remember that?”
Because I remember everything.
I shrug casually. “I told you, we all knew we had a star on our hands.”
It’s true. Even back then he had charisma, that X-factor that shone through no matter what crappy community theater or student short film he was acting in.
“Some star, I nearly got arrested, the cops thought I was a crazy drunk!”
“That’s what you get for going all Method.” I grin. “You know, it’s only a matter of time before the tabloids drag up those photos.”
“Don’t!” Blake protests.
“In fact, I’m sure I have a couple of old polaroids…” I pretend to tap my chin thoughtfully. “Not just Scrooge, but that production you did as a talking cow—”
“It was a pig,” Blake corrects me. “Animal Farm. It was a metaphor.”
“That piggy costume wasn’t metaphorical,” I shoot back, smirking. “And who could forget your star turn as Adam with nothing but a fig leaf to protect your modesty—”
“No! Please, stop.” Blake laughs. “You have to swear, those photos will never see the light of day.”
I arch an eyebrow. “What’s in it for me?”
Blake pauses, and suddenly, the air between us gets charged again. Something hot and vivid shimmering in the air.
Then he looks away, and it’s gone. “How about my undying gratitude?” Blake says. He clears his throat. “I’m not even kidding. InTouch had a photographer sneak in the gym to try and catch me doing squats.”
I giggle at the thought—even though I’d be first in line for that show. “I leave the country for one year, and you get hounded by the paparazzi. Mr. Big-Shot.”
“It’s not like that,” Blake protests. “They just love the whole angle with Dex too.”
“‘The Hottest Brothers Since the Hemsworths.’” I quote the tabloid headline.
“You saw that?”
“Are you kidding?” I laugh, “Tegan wants to get it framed. You must hate it,” I add. “I know Dex could never stand the attention.”
But Blake doesn’t agree. “It’s not so bad,” he says. “My agents all tell me it’s part of the game. Play it right, and it can help me win the big roles.”
I study him carefully. “And that’s what you want? Total world domination?”
Blake turns, and I swear, his jaw drops. I feel another tremor of nerves, but they melt away when I recognize the familiar look in his eyes, the one I’ve seen from plenty of guys since my transformation, but never from him.
Desire.
He blinks at me in disbelief.
“Zoey?” he says, sounding uncertain. “Holy shit, what happened to you?”
Play it cool, I remind myself. Easy, breezy, like he’s been the last thing on your mind.
I arch an eyebrow. “Good to see you too.”
I sashay over and lean in to kiss him on both cheeks, the way I learned in Europe. I leave a smudge of scarlet on his skin, so I reach up and wipe it away. He looks confused. “Sorry, Paris,” I explain, kicking myself for the familiar gesture.
“Uh, hey,” Blake recovers. “Welcome back. Is it just a vacation visit?”
“It depends,” I say.
“Uh, depends on what?” Blake asks. His gaze drifts down my body, all the way to my peep-toe sandals, the ones that usually make me feel invincible. But now, I feel stripped naked under his blue eyes, my heart beating so loudly in my chest I swear he can hear it over the muffled sound of the music inside.
You.
I bite back the truth. “You’ll see,” I answer cryptically instead. “But, yes, I’m back.”
“Tegan will be happy, I know she missed you,” Blake smiles.
“Me too.” I try to relax. This is Blake, I remind myself. Not some stranger. I know him. “I missed all of you guys,” I add, thinking of the whole Callahan family: Tegan, and their two other brothers too. “Europe is a long way from home.”
I take the spot beside him and lean out to watch the dark shadow of the ocean play along the distant shore. “So what’s your resolution?” I ask, trying to sound flirty.
My dress strap slips lower on my shoulder, but I fight the urge to pull it back up. ‘Don’t be scared to be sexy!’ my co-worker at the magazine, Elise, was always ordering me, so now I leave it hanging on my arm even though it makes me feel like my whole dress is about to come down.
Blake shrugs. “I guess… Make some great movies this year,” he smiles. “Not screw up and wind up waiting tables again to make a living.”
I laugh. “No way. We all knew you had the talent, it just took the world a little while to catch on.”
“You haven’t seen me act,” Blake retorts, teasing.
“Sure I have,” I remind him. “I remember a certain show you did one Christmas…”
“No!” Blake bursts out laughing. “God, why would you remind me about that?”
“Come on,” I tease him, “you were the hunkiest Ebenezer Scrooge that Santa Monica ever saw.” He dressed up as a surfer Scrooge and played scenes on the promenade for fifty bucks. His brothers never shut up about it; we teased him all year.
Blake groans. “I swear, that wig and beard gave me a rash. How do you even remember that?”
Because I remember everything.
I shrug casually. “I told you, we all knew we had a star on our hands.”
It’s true. Even back then he had charisma, that X-factor that shone through no matter what crappy community theater or student short film he was acting in.
“Some star, I nearly got arrested, the cops thought I was a crazy drunk!”
“That’s what you get for going all Method.” I grin. “You know, it’s only a matter of time before the tabloids drag up those photos.”
“Don’t!” Blake protests.
“In fact, I’m sure I have a couple of old polaroids…” I pretend to tap my chin thoughtfully. “Not just Scrooge, but that production you did as a talking cow—”
“It was a pig,” Blake corrects me. “Animal Farm. It was a metaphor.”
“That piggy costume wasn’t metaphorical,” I shoot back, smirking. “And who could forget your star turn as Adam with nothing but a fig leaf to protect your modesty—”
“No! Please, stop.” Blake laughs. “You have to swear, those photos will never see the light of day.”
I arch an eyebrow. “What’s in it for me?”
Blake pauses, and suddenly, the air between us gets charged again. Something hot and vivid shimmering in the air.
Then he looks away, and it’s gone. “How about my undying gratitude?” Blake says. He clears his throat. “I’m not even kidding. InTouch had a photographer sneak in the gym to try and catch me doing squats.”
I giggle at the thought—even though I’d be first in line for that show. “I leave the country for one year, and you get hounded by the paparazzi. Mr. Big-Shot.”
“It’s not like that,” Blake protests. “They just love the whole angle with Dex too.”
“‘The Hottest Brothers Since the Hemsworths.’” I quote the tabloid headline.
“You saw that?”
“Are you kidding?” I laugh, “Tegan wants to get it framed. You must hate it,” I add. “I know Dex could never stand the attention.”
But Blake doesn’t agree. “It’s not so bad,” he says. “My agents all tell me it’s part of the game. Play it right, and it can help me win the big roles.”
I study him carefully. “And that’s what you want? Total world domination?”
