Page 7 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

It’s a good answer, but I can tell that won’t be enough for Tracy. She likes to push buttons. She wants a real answer. Everyone else gave one, but Axel isn’t offering any nibbles.

“But the law school bit? The reason he didn’t practice? Was that based on you?” She presses, digging deeper into the character’s psyche, trying to draw comparisons.

Axel’s face goes blank, and he’s quiet for a few seconds.

I look to Luciana. Shouldn’t she be stepping in? But a stagehand is whispering something to the moderator, so Luciana’s not available for swooping.

Ah, hell. I don’t want to save him, yet I hate to see anyone backed against a wall. Also, I do want the points. So, I jump on the grenade. “His heroes like tacos,” I add with an I’m sharing a secret smile. “And this guy’s addicted to them,” I say, pointing my thumb at Axel.

A flash of relief passes across his blue eyes. Then he’s sharp again, confident again, when he says, “She’s right. I’m a taco lover.”

I cup the side of my mouth. “Taco Tuesday is a religion for him.”

“Tacos are holy,” he adds.

“Look, he’s not wrong,” Saanvi contributes, and for a few seconds the audience turns into a congregation singing the praises of tacos.

When the Q and A ends, my sister texts me to come find her in the greenroom.

Thank god Veronica’s here. I know she came for the signing we’re doing next—she loves Kennedy’s books.

I feel a little exposed after that Q and A, hoping the attendees couldn’t see through Axel and me.

I need a safe space for a few minutes, and that’s my sister.

She’s waiting for me by the greenroom, leaning against the doorframe, wearing a red polka-dot top, with brown wisps of hair framing her face. When our eyes meet, she waves me over, grabbing my wrist when I reach her.

“Why didn’t I know about the sex dictation? We’re sisters in mortification now.”

I smile, loving that she can laugh about her own snafu. A year ago she accidentally sent her anonymous sex column to her entire company and lost her job. But it was kind of her cat’s fault. Quirky pets can be so dastardly.

“Because no one should ever have to hear me dictate a sex scene. Ever .”

“Try me. Do one right now as we head to the signing,” she says, and we walk in that direction.

“No way.”

She pokes my side. “C’mon.”

“Fine, fine.” I clear my throat and adopt the most monotone tone ever. “He unzipped his jeans, comma, his thick cock springing free, period, my mouth watered, comma, and I said, open quote, your dick is a delicious summer sausage, close quote.”

She laughs. “You’re right. You’re exempt from ever dictating sex scenes in front of me again.”

“Thank you. Anyway, was I okay?” I ask nervously. “I felt extra sweaty today.”

She pretends to sniff me. “You don’t smell sweaty.”

“I’m being serious. Did I sound like a bitch? A know-it-all? A ding-dong?”

Her brow knits. “What? None of those. Why?”

“I always worry.”

“You were great. And I’m sure no one could tell you secretly want to bang Axel.”

I roll my eyes harder. She’s harped on this before. “News flash. You’re still wrong.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, we will not see,” I answer, drawing a clear line in the sand.

She smiles wickedly at me, then mouths I’m right . She’s such a stinker, but I’m still glad she’s here. “Thanks for coming. I know you came to see Kennedy. But I appreciate it nonetheless.”

“I’m here for you too. Let’s grab a drink after? Meet me at Gin Joint later?”

“I’ll be there,” I say, then I head into the signing room, energized from seeing readers and my sister, even though she’s still so dead wrong about me wanting to bang my archnemesis.

Later that night, when the signing ends, I grab my purse and leave the hotel solo, ready to head to Chelsea to meet my sister. When I reach the revolving door, I spot Axel standing outside, leaning against the glass facade of the hotel, looking cool and broody.

Well, at least from the backside.

Is he waiting for me?

I might have reached my weekend dose of faking it with the enemy.

I don’t know if I can handle another run-in with the man.

But as I walk outside, I steal a glance at him.

He’s chatting with someone. I tense, wondering if that’s his agent.

But a better look shows a tall, older man with a thick beard, a shiny bald head, and tortoise-shell glasses, and I sigh in relief.

His editor, not his agent.

“And we’ll have that lunch with Stein later this week,” Linus is telling Axel.

“Looking forward to it,” Axel replies. They’re focused on each other. Excellent. All I have to do is walk past, smile vaguely, and head downtown.

Wait. I don’t even have to do that.

I turn the other way, but as I wheel around, Axel calls out, “Hazel.”

I groan but turn back. “Yes?”

Axel motions to Linus that he’ll be a second. The editor waves to me, and I give a professional grin and a nod. It’s a small world, after all. Then Axel heads over to me, the corner of his lips curving up. “Tacos?”

It comes out curious but approving. For a second there, I thought he’d be annoyed I made up the taco thing.

“I improvised. Don’t tell me you hate tacos too?”

He laughs. “Who hates tacos?”

“No one,” I say. I expect him to say something cutting and leave, but he stands looking at me, silent.

My brow knits. “What is it, Huxley?”

He sighs, as if dreading what he’s about to say. “You win,” he mutters. “You were nicer.”

Oh, right. The Be Nicer contest. We didn’t even establish stakes though. “What were we playing for?”

He glances at the cabs streaking by on the street, then back at me. “I don’t know. Except, I guess, keeping things private still. So, um, thanks.”

He extends a hand once more. I take it and shake. Only this time, I hold his hand for a second or two longer. Maybe five.

But then I let go. What’s the point in lingering?

We’re just former friends, former partners, former confidantes.

We are former.

We’re dead to each other now.

There’s no prize for behaving like an adult.

“Maybe the prize is we won’t have to see each other again,” I offer. That’s probably for the best—playing to keep the status quo and staying far, far away from each other.

That’s easiest.

He purses his lips and then nods. “Good night, then,” he says, and it sounds like we both agree on something.

I turn around and head to meet Veronica at Gin Joint. Too bad I don’t feel like I won anything today.