Evangeline

My eyes are closed; my heart is open. My fingers run over keys furiously, rhythmically.

I should be pissed, broken, disappointed.

I’m none of those things. And why would I be? Cassius called days ago and then hung up before I could get a word in edgewise. I deserve more than that.

I deserve a man who’s willing to listen.

“Evangeline?” A voice breaks my labored concentration, a voice I don’t recognize.

Turning toward my door, I see Holden—the Hollywood Holden—leaning against the doorframe with all the swagger and sex appeal he’s known for.

“Holden?” I stand, greeting him. “Did you just get in from Switzerland?”

“Just got in. Terrible jet-lag though.”

“Did the shoot go well? Jude said you were filming.”

Holden smiles. “You know everything about me?” He walks toward me, not asking to come in.

“Not everything,” I say, closing my piano and smoothing the skirt of my dress. “But I’m grateful you trusted Jude enough to let me crash here. I was in a real bind.”

“No old friends in the neighborhood you could stay with?” Holden asks.

“No. I’m kind of a loner, to be honest. The opposite of you, I’m sure.”

“Eh,” Holden runs his hand through his hair. “I had one close friend, Bexley, but we don’t talk anymore. My whole life is what I’ve built in LA since I graduated high school.”

“I didn’t just graduate high school, but I am starting from scratch.”

“Well, you can make plenty of friends in this city if you can play like that.” He gives me a charming grin, all gleaming white teeth and perfectly proportioned cheekbones and nose. He’s easily the most traditionally handsome man I’ve ever been face-to-face with.

I laugh. “Uh, I don’t think playing the piano gets many people friends.”

Holden shrugs. “Maybe you’re hoping to make friends with the wrong crowd. Most people who are really into music, who live here, would be all over you—trying to get you to play for their albums, their shows. People are always looking for other people to play with.”

I cross my arms, appraising this man. “You know a lot about music, for being an actor.”

“I used to do musical theater. But keep that on the down low.”

“Starring in a high school performance of Oklahoma! doesn’t really go with your image?” I ask, smirking.

“It’s all about the image, baby,” he says, raising his eyebrows. I can’t tell if he’s joking, or flirting, or just so hot he can say whatever the heck he wants. “But, hey, if you don’t have any friends and are a sad loner, go out with me tonight.”

I must look semi-horrified—and, in all honestly, I am. I don’t want to date … at least not anyone that isn’t Cash. Even though he clearly doesn’t want to date me.

Which, to be fair, I understand. I was colder than cold in my father’s driveway.

“Wow, okay. I won’t take that personally.”

When I bite my bottom lip awkwardly, not answering, he shakes his head in mock-sorrow. “Or maybe I will take it personally. Ouch, woman. That uninterested in me? Must say, considering I was voted Sexiest Man Under Twenty-Five in the world, the fact that you aren’t even acting slightly interested is a shot to my fucking ego.”

I laugh. “Listen, it isn’t you. It’s me. I’m just … I’m not over someone else yet.”

Holden presses a hand to his heart in relief. “Thank God. Shit, I was a little concerned that Switzerland did something to fuck with my game.”

“Your game is just fine. In fact, I expected you to be much more douche-y than you appear.”

“Wow, not only can you play the ivories, but you’re charming too.”

I shrug, grateful he’s just teasing.

“Listen,” he says. “Let’s still go out for dinner tonight. My sleep schedule is all fucked up from the flight and I’m starving. My treat. The least I can do for this poor homeless girl living in my guest house.”

“I should be treating you,” I say. “Letting me stay here based on Jude’s recommendation. I’m so lucky.”

“Eh, I owe Jude about a hundred favors. That boy is a motherfucking saint.”

“Agreed. Now, let me get my purse, and you can show me how the cool kids make friends in LA.”