Page 139 of Relationship Goals

I scowl at him.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you’re still a wreck over this guy. Your under eyes look like they’ve never seen a collagen eye patch, and it’s going to make my life harder on set. Rude of you.”

I snort, because while he’s not wrong about the bags under my eyes, I know he’s not saying it to be mean.

The car navigates slowly through the airport traffic, and Darren and I lapse into silence as the landscape transforms as we get closer to the hotel the studio’s putting us up in while we film here before going back to the set in LA.

“I can’t understand why it hurts so much.” It comes out so softly I half hope he hasn’t heard me at all.

He does, though, cutting me a look that’s equal parts exasperation and fondness. “Because he’s a good guy, Abs, and you haven’t dated one of those before. Plus, he put up with your shit.”

“My shit?” I repeat, playfully shoving his arm.

“Don’t fucking even,” he says with a laugh. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. All your glorious weirdness, you quirky little freak.”

“Well, that’s much nicer thanmy shit,” I say primly.

He laughs, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “Call him.”

“I have to focus on work this week,” I immediately say.

We share a look, the unspoken communication clear as day.

“I don’t know how to tell him I’m sorry and that I’m still upset with him for lying to me.”

“Oh, Abs.” Darren squeezes my hand. “Thatisall you have to say. Do you think…”

He purses his lips together, squinting at me in the Atlanta sunlight.

“What?” I urge. “Do I think what?”

“Do you think he would have even asked you out if they hadn’t put him up to it?”

“Isn’t that the problem?” I retort, but there’s no bite in it, not at all.

“Noooo.” He draws the word out. “I mean, he doesn’t strike me as the type to just…date around. You never hear about him in the tabloids like that.”

“Until I got a hold of him.” I sigh, resting my head against the car window and watching the green landscape rush by the highway.

“Right. But what I’m saying is…I know it hurt your feelings, but maybe, uh, if you two can end up working it out—maybe it would be fortuitous.”

“We don’t even know that that’s going to happen.” This time, it is snappish. “I do need to focus this week, and I can’t focus if I’m busy thinking about Luke Wolfe.”

My voice breaks on his last name.

“Right. So we’ll just film this soccer movie, and we won’t think about him. Got it. Zero thoughts.”

I glare at him.

“You look especially awful when you do that with those eye bags.”

“Why are we friends again?” I grump at him.

“Because no one else would one”—he holds up his forefinger—“orchestrate the most chaotic date of your life at a fancy restaurant, and two”—he adds a second finger—“love you completely no matter how harebrained your schemes.”