CHAPTER FOUR
That happened about five minutes into my dinner with Noah. He had gone to use the restroom, and I sneaked a quick peek at my phone. Another Chase tweet that again got my heart furiously pounding. That definitely had to be about me. Presumably he had a housekeeper or a personal chef or assistant who could whip up some baked goods for him if he really wanted them. But for some reason, Chase had said he wanted me to make cookies for him. He was using “zo” like in my Twitter username. A tiny voice reminded me that the Z and S keys were close together. It could have been a slip of a finger.
But it didn’t feel that way.
It was all I could think about. I didn’t focus on Noah like I should have.
It didn’t help matters that whatever teasing banter Noah and I shared at the Foundation did not translate to real life. I knew he was a hipster, but the newsboy cap, suspenders, and bow tie were a step too far even for me. I felt a little silly sitting there with him, as if I were underdressed. We talked about Stephanie’s unreasonable request, brainstormed some possible connections to celebrities, and then . . . the conversation died.
Admittedly, it was partly my fault for being distracted by Chase’s tweet. Because half an hour after the first one, he posted this.
Monday. The day Lexi and I would be on the set of his new movie. It was one of those ensemble superhero movies, a franchise where Chase would play a new hero. Dr. Super Captain something.
“Something important happening on your phone?” Noah asked, giving me a pointed look. I immediately felt guilty. My grandma had been big into not being rude. I should have been giving Noah my full attention.
But all I could think about was Chase and his tweets.
I placed my phone in my purse, putting the temptation away. “Not really. Just . . . nothing.”
“I thought maybe I was boring you.” Noah folded his arms against his chest and seemed a little angry. “Or that you’d prefer to be somewhere else.”
“No!” My throat felt tight, the guilt over his anger making me anxious. I picked up my fork and pushed the food still on my plate, my stomach too upset to eat anything else. I couldn’t make eye contact with him. “Of course not.”
A long, tense silence passed between us as my mind went completely blank. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I sneaked a glance at him, and his lips were pressed tightly together. Like I’d failed some kind of test and disappointed him.
The quiet went on for so long that I felt sweat dripping down my lower back. “You go to UCLA, right?”
“Yes.”
I was about to ask him what his major was, but I already knew. Accounting. Like me. My thoughts scattered as I tried to talk to him, and I asked him more questions I already knew the answers to. Like, “Do you still live at home?” and “How long have you been at the Foundation?”
We even veered into, “So, how about those Dodgers?” And I didn’t watch baseball.
My introverted weirdness had reared its ugly head, and it was like Noah decided he wasn’t into it or my pathetic attempt at making conversation. He didn’t ask me anything, and his responses were as brief and of as few syllables as possible. Which made me more nervous and awkward and sweaty. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so completely self-conscious and uneasy. I’d never been so relieved to get the check. I offered to split it, and he didn’t say anything as he took my debit card and slid it into the little leather folder.
Noah drove me back to my car at the Foundation in total silence and mumbled good night. His tires squealed as he sped off, not even waiting for me to get safely inside.
As I unlocked my front door, I decided to not dwell on yet another total social failure. Instead, I thought about Chase’s tweets and put Noah out of my mind. I considered showing the tweets to Lexi. I wanted her opinion. But on the other hand, I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. If I had built something up in my mind that was not even a little bit based in reality, I couldn’t bear her pity.
My decision was made for me when I arrived home and found Gavin and Lexi cuddling on the couch, studying. Maybe I’d show her later.
“Where have you been?” Lexi asked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.
I set my purse down on the counter and threw my keys into the ceramic bowl. “I think I was on a date.” Or being tortured in my own personal hell. One or the other.
That got my best friend’s full attention. “With who?”
“Noah.”
She put her book down and turned to face me. “That guy from the Foundation you think is cute?”
“That’s the one.” I went over to the fridge and pulled out a bottled water.
“And you didn’t come home to change and get gorgeous first?” She said this like it was some kind of personal affront to her.
I sat in the armchair across from her, the one we’d found at a flea market for ten dollars. “According to my women’s studies class, I’m not supposed to get dressed up to please a man. Where’s your feminism?”
“You mean that thing that murdered romance?” she retorted.
“Says the girl with a bouquet of red roses from her boyfriend on the counter.”
That earned me a warm smile from Gavin. He was super romantic, and Lexi adored being treated so well. It was another point in the pro-Gavin column. Not only did he treat my best friend the way she deserved to be treated, but he had also made a real effort to become my friend. He didn’t take my introversion personally (like some other guys, coughNoahcough, seemed to). He didn’t think something was wrong with me or that I needed to step out of my “comfort zone.” He just accepted me as I was and went out of his way to make me comfortable with him.
Lexi folded her arms. “It’s not about pleasing him. It’s about feeling good about yourself.”
I felt good about myself in that moment, but it had absolutely nothing to do with Noah. I took a swig of water.
“Although if he chooses to enjoy your visual confidence, all the better for you. By the way, where are my details? Did he at least kiss you?”
Gulping down the water in my mouth, I shook my head. “Nope. Just dropped me off at my car.” And drove off like his tires were on fire.
“What kind of date is that?”
“I don’t know if it was a date.”
Lexi narrowed her eyebrows at me. “Did you talk only about the office?”
“No.” That was true, but the only time I felt okay was when we did talk about the office. “We talked about other things.” Sort of.
I didn’t want to tell her how weird it had gotten because Lexi lived in fear that I would become a spinster cat lady since I never got past a third date. Which was partly due to my social awkwardness and also to the we-wouldn’t-be-sleeping-together thing.
Sometimes I thought about starting a blog called Things Men Say When I Tell Them I’m Celibate. Such as:
“I’m not fifteen. I’m not interested in dating like I still am.”
“Oh. Great. Hey, I gotta go. I just remembered my grandmother’s cat is having emergency surgery tomorrow, and I really want to be there for that.”
“Thanks for letting me know this isn’t going anywhere.”
“Are you trying to become a nun?”
“I can take care of that for you.” (Still makes my skin crawl.)
“Cool. Cool, cool, cool. This was fun, but I have a term paper due tomorrow that I spaced and have to go finish.” (That guy had already graduated.)
“I’m not interested in being serious right now. I thought you were down for being casual.”
“I can respect that.” (He respected it so much he never contacted me again.)
And so on and so on. Reactions ranged from some combination of fear to being weirded out or being a little too into it. Lexi kept telling me that with the right guy, it would be a nonissue. That if he really liked me, Mr. Perfect would be willing to wait.
I hoped she was right.
“Who paid?” Lexi demanded.
Paid? Oh right. My “date” with Noah. “We split the check.”
“Did he ask you, or did you ask him?”
“He asked. Kind of. It wasn’t like a formal invitation, more like, ‘Let’s hang out and keep talking about our insane boss.’”
“I’m finding for the defendant. I say it was a date,” she concluded, settling back onto the couch. “What do you think, Gavin?”
That made me blink a couple of times in surprise. I’d never known Lexi to ask one of her many suitors his opinion before. She was more of the informing-them-what-they-should-think type.
Gavin looked up from his laptop with a thoughtful expression. “I think he’s a wimp. He should have let you know whether or not it was a date and if he was interested. People play too many games. It’s a waste of time. It sounds like he was trying to hedge his bets. It would have been a date if things had ended the way he wanted. It was a work thing if nothing happened. Dude should have manned up.”
He was a little bit right. Noah had not been straightforward about whether it was a date or just a work thing. I hadn’t helped things with my inattentiveness and subsequent crashing and burning. Maybe even Chase Covington should bear some of the responsibility.
Tired of the subject and not wanting to share details that would only disappoint my friend, I asked how their days had been. We chatted for a while longer until I excused myself to my room, giving them some privacy.
I had a test to study for, a presentation to work on, and a new job to find.
I didn’t have time to be thinking about another failed date.
Or about Chase Covington.
I said goodbye to the Henderson boys. I cried; they didn’t. I stopped by and saw my siblings and played with them for a couple of hours. My mother asked me if I could help her out on Tuesday night because her sitter had canceled due to a family emergency. I told her I would. Then I started my job search. Mrs. Henderson was willing to give me a reference, but all of her ladies-who-lunch friends already had nannies.
The problem was I needed a lot of flexibility. Over the next few days, I went around to some of the downtown shops, but there weren’t any employers who were interested in hiring me for two or three hours in the middle of the afternoon. They wanted time commitments I couldn’t give them.
Next thing I knew, it was early Monday morning, and Lexi was dragging me out of bed. “Today’s the day. Let’s go, let’s go!”
Even though she was caffeine-less, she was like a rabid squirrel on Adderall. Darting all over the place, checking her reflection, running to the closet to look through her clothes, brushing her hair for the ninetieth time.
Although I wouldn’t have admitted it, I spent a little more time on my appearance than I normally did. Mascara, blush, and lipstick were even involved. A production assistant had called Lexi Sunday night and told us to dress like New York bowlers. We didn’t know what that meant, so we both wore jeans, and I wore a light-gray T-shirt that matched my eyes while Lexi had poured herself into a tight black tank top.
We pulled up at Daylight Studios and were allowed in after we showed our identification and the guard found us on his list. He told us where we would be filming and directed us to park. Once we found the right area in the parking garage, we started the long trek to Building 20B. There were rows and rows of big beige buildings and people walking around in costumes, talking on their phones, driving in golf carts.
Lexi still hadn’t managed to calm down. “We’re actually here. Can you believe it? We’re going to be in a movie!”
I was more interested in seeing Chase in real life. Especially because he’d gone uncharacteristically silent on Twitter all weekend.
We found the right building but were stopped by a PA (short for production assistant). He sent us to get our hair and makeup done and told us where to go afterward, along with the other extras. The makeup trailer was like an assembly line—people were in and out of their chairs in a matter of minutes. My guess was that a lot more time was spent on the stars. I got some foundation and powder and a darker shade of lipstick than I might normally wear and was told to move along. I waited outside the trailer until Lexi was done, and together we made the short walk to the soundstage.
It struck me as funny that when you watch a movie or TV show, the actors look like they’re in actual apartments or bedrooms. But there was no ceiling, and one whole wall was missing. It was like a giant one-story dollhouse. There were massive lights, thick black cables, and cameras everywhere. We were directed to a set that looked like a real bowling alley. A director’s assistant explained that in this scene, the superhero, Captain Sparta, would be thrown through a wall and into the back of a bowling alley. A stunt double would be performing that part, but Chase Covington would be filmed getting back on his feet and running out to confront the villain. There were a lot of excited whispers and tittering at that part. The DA told us to be serious and not screw up the shot or else we were done. Lexi was chosen to stand at the front of the lane, as though she was about to bowl, and I was a member of her team, sitting on the bench behind her. We were told to look surprised and scared when Captain Sparta went crashing through the wall.
Lexi was told that Captain Sparta would nod to her, and her job was to look shocked. She nodded seriously, but I could tell she wanted to squee.
Wardrobe came in and handed us bowling shirts to wear. Lexi put hers on but didn’t button it and tied the bottom ends together at her waist.
There was a lot of waiting involved as the lights were set up and conversations were had, and I didn’t know why Lexi wanted to be an actress so badly. It seemed like a lot of boring. My best friend, however, was in her element. She couldn’t stop grinning and preening in her spot. It made me smile. I was happy she was getting the chance to live her dream.
A loud whisper rumbled through the room, starting at the door of the soundstage and making its way over to us.
Somebody next to me said over their shoulder, “Chase Covington is here.”
I heard the DA hiss, “Be professional!”
He was here.
It was him.
Chase freaking Covington.