I really hate being so far away from you. I miss you more than dairy, and you know how much I miss dairy. Okay, sooo…that’s it, really. That’s what I wanted to say. I miss you. I’m gonna go to sleep now.

Alice stared at her phone in shock and replayed Griffin’s voicemail again from the beginning. Very slowly, she broke into a smile.

Griffin liked her.

Okay, so he had to be drunk to come right out and say it, but he definitely liked her. She had proof now.

But did he like her in a hot and bothered, want to mash their face holes together kind of way? Or in a platonic, let’s just be best friends kind of way?

He wouldn’t have drunk-dialed if it was the latter, right? That wouldn’t be something he had to get liquored up to say. Unless he was just really, really bad at having friends.

But he wasn’t. He was good at it, from everything she’d ever seen.

Stop trying to talk yourself out of this. Enjoy it. Bask in it. Let yourself feel happy.

It was hard. Alice was programmed to distrust compliments. She was always waiting for the other shoe to fall. For the backhanded blow that usually followed.

This was different though. Griffin wasn’t like that. He’d called to tell her he liked her because he actually liked her. Just because he was drunk didn’t mean he hadn’t meant it. It just meant he was too nervous to say it sober.

How about that? Griffin Beach was nervous to tell her he liked her.

She thought about calling him back, but given the timestamp on the voicemail and how drunk he’d been, she figured he was probably still sleeping it off.

Instead she called Rachel.

“That’s funny,” Rachel said, sounding not the least bit amused when Alice had finished telling her about the voicemail, which…was not the reaction she’d been expecting.

“Why is it funny?”

“Because Hot Hollywood Nights has a photo of him leaving some club in Atlanta last night with Kimberleigh Cress.”

Alice’s stomach dropped down to the floor. “What?”

“Google it. They looked pretty cozy to me.”

She opened her laptop and found the photo a few posts down on the sleazy gossip site’s home page. There was Griffin, clear as day, with his arm around Kimberleigh and his face pressed against her cheek. She was smiling and had her hand resting on his chest.

Alice swallowed down a wave of nausea. “He’s just kissing her cheek. It could be nothing. I saw him kiss your cheek at the wrap party. He’s a cheek kisser. He kisses everyone’s cheeks.” Except Alice’s. He hadn’t kissed her cheek that night. She was probably the only woman there he hadn’t kissed.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Rachel said, sounding not at all sure but like she was trying to make Alice feel better.

“I mean—okay—it says they left together, but you know these sites get stuff wrong all the time. And even if they did leave together, it doesn’t necessarily mean they slept together. Maybe they were just sharing a car.”

“Sure.” Rachel was clearly just humoring her.

Alice bit down on her lip. “If he was with Kimberleigh last night, you really think he would have called me? Like, did he crawl out of her bed to drunk-dial me? Seems unlikely.”

“Unless he’d already skedaddled after they did the deed. He’s not exactly known for sticking around to cuddle.”

Alice enlarged the photo on her screen. They did look disturbingly…intimate.

“You’re probably right, though,” Rachel said. “It’s probably blown out of proportion. That picture could be totally innocent.”

It could be. But was it? Alice wasn’t so sure.

“Why don’t you just call him?” Rachel suggested. “Ask him straight out what the deal is.”

“Maybe I will,” Alice said, knowing she would do no such thing.

She didn’t have any claim on him or his romantic attentions. Technically, he hadn’t said anything in his voicemail that definitively proved he wanted to be more than just friends. She might have inferred more, but there was nothing that would stand up in court.

Not that they were going to adjudicate this in court. Ugh. This was so stupid. Why had she let herself go and fall for him? She’d been much better off before she had all these annoying feelings.

Griffin called later that afternoon—a voice call, not a video chat. Alice wasn’t sure what to read into that.

“Hi!” she chirped a little too loudly when she answered. So much for not acting weird.

“Hey.” His voice sounded rough, like he was still recovering from his hangover. “So…I have this vague memory of—did I call you last night?”

She got up from the couch to pace around the living room. “You left me a voicemail.” Taco’s eyes followed her anxiously as she walked past his bed.

“Ohhhh shit.” Griffin groaned. “I was pretty drunk.”

“Yes, you were,” Alice agreed.

“Did I say anything stupid or embarrassing? Do I need to apologize?”

She chewed on her lower lip. “No. You were fine.”

“What did I say?”

The fact that he didn’t remember meant the ball was in her court. She could tell him the truth and force a conversation about it…or she could rewrite history and pretend he’d never said the things he’d said.

Alice took the coward’s way out, because that was how she rolled. “You mostly just told me you were drunk.”’

“Oh. Okay.” He sounded relieved, and she wondered what he’d been afraid he might have said. “I didn’t mean to get that wasted, but I’m a lightweight these days.”

“That’s exactly what you said in the message.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She stopped pacing and took a breath before saying the next part. “I saw a picture of you from last night, actually, on Hot Hollywood Nights.”

“Shit. Really? What was I doing? I wasn’t dancing, was I?”

She squeezed the phone, which felt slippery in her hand. “Uh, no. You were kissing Kimberleigh Cress, actually.”

“What?”

“On the cheek, it looks like.”

“Whew. Okay.”

“So?” Alice tried to sound lighthearted and teasing. “You and Kimberleigh, huh?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It says you went home together.”

“We didn’t,” he said darkly. “Don’t believe everything you read on the internet. Most of what they post on those sites is lies.”

Her shoulders slumped in relief. “Yeah. That’s what I figured.”

“They’re always making something out of nothing.”

See? She was right. It was nothing.

“God. Only four more weeks.” He blew out a breath like he’d just sat down. “And then I’ll be back home. I can’t wait. You have no idea.”

“Yeah, about that…” Alice resumed her pacing. “I’ve been looking at apartments, and I found a decent prospect, but it’s not available until the first of August, which means I’d be in your hair for an extra week and a half, and I wasn’t sure if—”

“It’s fine. There’s no rush.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m not in a hurry to get rid of you or anything.”

Alice twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “I just thought you might like to have your house to yourself when you come back.”

“Nah. It’s cool. In fact, you don’t have to move out at all.”

“What?” She halted mid-step and pressed the phone to her ear.

“You can stay as long as you want.”

Her heart thudded loudly against her rib cage. “What? Like as your roommate?”

“Why not?” She could picture him shrugging. “We get along great. It’s not like it’s a hardship.”

“Yeah, but you don’t want a roommate cramping your style.” Do you? And what about a girlfriend? Would you like one of those? Would you like it to be me?

He laughed. “You should know by now I don’t have any style to cramp. And I don’t mind having you around. I like it, actually.”

“Oh.” Alice walked over to the couch and sat down heavily, causing Taco’s ears to perk up.

“It’s totally up to you,” Griffin continued. “But, you know, if it’s easier for you to stay until you graduate or whatever, you’re welcome to. For as long as you want.”

“Wow, that’s—are you sure?” She was even more confused now. Did he think of her as just a roommate, or did he want to keep her around because he liked her?

“Yeah. Totally sure.” His tone was light and guileless. “You should stay.”

“Okay,” Alice said tentatively. “Well, thanks.” Who was she to turn down free rent while she was still in school? If he was willing to have her, she’d be an idiot not to stay.

“It’s settled, then!” He sounded happy. “Taco and I get to keep you.”

“Ha ha, yeah.” She swallowed down the nervous butterflies trying to flap their way out of her stomach.

“Oh, shit.” He sounded farther away suddenly, as if he was holding the phone at arm’s length.

“What?”

“My agent just texted.” His voice sounded close again—so close she could hear the puff of his breath against the microphone. “I’d better call her back. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Yep. Bye.”

Alice set the phone down on the coffee table and folded forward, clutching her stomach with both arms.

Apparently she wasn’t moving out after all. Which meant when Griffin came home—what?

She had no idea.

Griffin’s agent was flying out to Atlanta to talk to him. In person. That was ominous. Sabrina only ever delivered bad news in person. Good news she delivered over the phone, but with bad news she always felt the need to “manage” him. If she was flying two thousand miles, it must be pretty fucking bad.

She’d refused to tell him what it was about though. “It’s nothing,” she’d said lightly. “Don’t panic. We’ll talk when I get there.”

Griffin was panicking.

He’d spent every minute since their conversation in a state of constant, stomach-churning anxiety. By the time Wednesday rolled around—the day of Sabrina’s late-afternoon arrival—he was positive he was developing an ulcer.

At five thirty, one of the PAs—a sweet kid named Ashley with a bulldog tattoo on her ankle—let Griffin know his agent had been given a temporary pass at security and escorted to his trailer as he’d requested. He thanked her and popped another antacid as he waited for the director of photography and his crew to finish lighting the shot.

“You’re sweating more than usual,” his makeup artist, Zaundra, said, narrowing her sharp eyes at him as she blotted his brow and gave him an extra dusting of powder. “You feeling okay, hon?”

“Not really,” Griffin said.

It was an hour and a half before they got the shot to Jerry’s satisfaction and Griffin was able to get back to his trailer. Sabrina was waiting for him, having made herself at home by setting up a temporary workstation at his desk. She spun her chair around, sliding her reading glasses off as he let himself into the trailer.

“Aren’t you looking fit as a bloody trout?” She rose and greeted him with a double cheek kiss before giving him an appraising once-over.

“How was your flight?” Griffin asked, enduring her inspection for a count of three before going to the fridge for a protein drink.

“Horrid, but that’s commercial travel for you.” She slid back into her seat, reaching up to pat her sleek, straw-colored hair. Sabrina had to be well into her fifties, but thanks to the miracle of Botox, she hardly looked a day over thirty.

Griffin flopped down on the dark gray couch and cracked the seal on his drink. “So? Am I in trouble?”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Lord, no. Is that what you thought?”

“Something brought you all the way out here.”

“I’m here because of Kimbergriff.”

He stared at her like she’d started speaking in tongues. “What?”

“That’s the portmanteau you and your costar have been given. I assume you know about the photo of you two leaving an Atlanta hotspot together?”

Griffin grimaced as he choked down a mouthful of protein drink. “I haven’t seen it, but someone told me about it.” He was still pissed Alice had seen that. She’d sounded weird on the phone, and he hadn’t been able to figure out if it was because of that damned photo, or because of whatever it was he’d said in his drunken voicemail. Or maybe both.

“The two of you were looking very cozy outside that nightclub.”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It was a platonic goodbye kiss. If the paps caught it, then they also caught me getting into a car by myself and going home alone.” Although they seemed to have conveniently forgotten that part when they sold the photo.

“Right now, it’s just some speculation and a titillating photo.”

“I wouldn’t call a kiss on the cheek titillating.” Griffin didn’t understand what the big deal was. Even if it had been a real kiss, was it really worth flying all the way out here to berate him about it? What exactly was she worried about?

“The point is, it could be a serious story.” Sabrina paused for dramatic effect. “If we made it one.”

He froze with his drink halfway to his mouth. “What does that mean?”

“The comments are overwhelmingly positive. People are excited at the idea of you and Kimberleigh together.”

Griffin snorted. “Too bad we’re not together, I guess.”

Sabrina arched a perfectly penciled eyebrow. “What if you were?”

“What if we were what?” An uneasy prickle traveled down the back of his neck.

“Together. As far as the public knew.”

He stared at her in growing horror. “You’re not suggesting—”

“I am.”

“No way.”

Sabrina was silent, appearing to consider her approach. “Hit and Amiss had a one-hundred-fifty-million-dollar opening this weekend. Do you know why?”

“Because it’s a cool-looking movie everyone wants to see?”

She flicked a dismissive hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s trash. That film had no buzz until one half of 2015’s couple of the year left his wife and jumped into bed with his costar. That’s what got people talking about it. Suddenly, everyone wanted to see the movie 2018’s couple of the year fell in love filming.” Sabrina stared at Griffin pointedly.

He felt his hackles rise. “I don’t have a wife to leave and I’m not in love with Kimberleigh.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes. “I’m not telling you to fall in love with her. I’m simply proposing a series of staged photo ops that give the impression you’re dating. Accompanied by a few feeder stories, of course. Possibly followed by an exclusive interview or two.”

Griffin’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish.

“If you were simply seen together a few more times,” Sabrina went on. “If the public were led to believe you were an item, it would do wonders for your visibility—and the film’s. It’s win-win.”

“It’s going too far, is what it is,” Griffin said when he’d recovered from his shock enough to speak. “My personal life is not for public consumption.”

The look Sabrina gave him was both affectionate and pitying, the way you’d look at a whiny toddler or a three-legged dog. “Don’t be naive. Of course it is. You’re a commodity, and everything the public thinks they know about you is part of your brand. If you want to play with the big boys, we need to improve your brand.”

“I thought my brand was pretty good,” Griffin said defensively.

“It’s all right, but it could be better. Your star is rising right now, and we need to capitalize on that momentum before something else comes along and knocks you out of the sky. You’re likable, but not as much as you could be. I know you value your privacy, but frankly you’re a bit of a blank slate. You need to give the public a reason to care about you if you want to win their hearts and minds.”

“I’ve been using social media more, and I think it’s going pretty well.”

“Yes, that’s fine, but I’m talking about something big. Social media isn’t going to launch you into the stratosphere unless you put your foot in it and make yourself into a pariah—which is not the kind of attention we want.”

“Then I’ll do more interviews or something.”

Sabrina shook her head. “Interviews can only get you so far if you don’t have an interesting story to sell. You need to give the public a reason to get invested in you.”

“You think a girlfriend makes me interesting?”

“It does if the girlfriend is Kimberleigh Cress.”

“She’s a little young for me, don’t you think?” Griffin was almost thirty-one and Kimberleigh wasn’t even old enough to rent a car, for all that she had the world weariness of someone twice her age.

“Hardly,” Sabrina scoffed.

Griffin felt his lip curl. It was one thing for a twenty-two-year-old to be cast as his love interest on-screen—that decision was out of his hands. But if people thought they were dating in real life, that made him a grown-ass man in his thirties whose taste ran to girls barely past drinking age.

“I’ll be blunt,” Sabrina said, her wrinkle-free face settling into the closest it could get to a frown. “The early buzz on this project is not great. No one’s excited about this movie. It’s got the worst IMDb popularity score of any Jerry Duncan film in the last decade.”

“We’re still in principal photography,” Griffin protested.

“The Nock was in the top two hundred at this stage of production. Right now, this project is hovering around three thousand.”

“Jesus.” Griffin rested his head in his hands. Sabrina had just confirmed the fears he’d been trying to pep talk himself out of for weeks.

“It’s barely registering a blip on the Rotten Tomatoes radar,” Sabrina went on, putting more nails in the coffin. “There’s nothing but resounding silence on Reddit, Twitter, and Facebook. The only place anyone is talking about this film is Kimberleigh’s tag on Tumblr, and even her die-hard fans aren’t particularly excited about it.”

Griffin set his jaw stubbornly. “I’m not pimping myself out to save Jerry Duncan’s ass.” It wasn’t his fault this film was a steaming turd, and there was a part of him that wanted to see Jerry fail after the hell he’d put Griffin through.

“What about your own ass, then? Because if this ship goes down, you’re going down with it. I can promise you the narrative Jerry will spin to the studio is that you’re not a big enough name to carry this film. They will hang this flop around your neck, and you’ll never see another major starring role.”

Griffin had always tried to surround himself with people who’d call him out on his shit—he didn’t want to turn into one of those fame monsters who bought into their own hype—but he wasn’t prepared for that level of bluntness. Sabrina had always been honest with him, but usually she tried to bolster his confidence rather than tear it down.

The expression on his face must really have been something, because she got up and came over to sit beside him, laying her hand over his. “I’m sorry, darling. I don’t mean to be harsh, but you need to face reality and stop being such a prude. All we’re really talking about is a few carefully orchestrated appearances and some interviews. It’s not asking the moon.”

Griffin knew she was probably right, but he still didn’t want to do it. “Kimberleigh will never agree to it.”

“She already has.”

He swiveled his head and blinked at her. “What?”

Sabrina offered a casual shrug. “You don’t think I’d fly out here on a pipe dream, do you? I didn’t even bring this to you until I knew I had her team on board.”

“And you just assumed you’d be able to convince me?”

“Yes. Because you’re a sensible man who cares about his career. Haven’t we built some trust by now? You know I wouldn’t suggest something like this on a whim.”

“And Kimberleigh’s seriously willing to do this?”

“She’s in if you are.”

Griffin slumped back against the couch and rubbed his temples. “Do you really think this film’s going to flop?”

“Not if you save it,” Sabrina said. “This is your shot, Griffin. Your narrow window of opportunity. You need to make sure it sticks—unless you don’t mind sliding back into television obscurity.”

He sighed. “Fine. What do I have to do exactly?”

Sabrina beamed a triumphant smile at him. “I knew you’d see sense! You won’t regret it.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I will.”