The server deposited his gazpacho in front of him and offered freshly ground pepper before departing.
Right. Steve ordered soup. He put the fork and knife down, more keenly aware of Hilary’s gaze than ever.
“Anyway,” Hilary said when they were alone again. “Don’t think I didn’t see that flinch. So who’s the guy? Please tell me you didn’t go back to Austin.”
The thought of how Drew would react to that made him laugh. “Christ no.” With Austin he’d felt like he was sneaking around. Drew had taken him on one date and delivered an experience that was simultaneously intimate and public, in a way that felt legitimate and affectionate and fun without the secondhand shame.
The two of them were like night and day. Steve wasn’t going back.
“Well, then? I’m surprised you have time to date, given your shooting schedule.”
“I don’t.” He ladled a spoonful of soup into his mouth. It was bright, flavorful, with a heavy hit of dill.
“Workplace romance?” Hilary guessed. “Who’s the lucky man? Gaffer? Camera guy? Oooh, is it Will? He does tailor your jeans kind of close.”
Not as close as he tailors Drew’s.Wordlessly Steve shook his head.
Hilary stared at him. “You’re not… you’re kidding.”
Steve flushed and knew it would give him away. Some masochistic part of him asked, “What? You don’t think I’m good enough?”
“I don’t think—” Hilary cut herself off and lowered her voice to a hiss. “Drew Beaumont does not date! I basically have that embroidered and framed on my wall. That’s how I came to be his agent in the first place!”
A bit of his tension released. Of course Hilary didn’t think that. They’d been friends forever. Steve took another bite of soup and savored it before responding, this time with humor. “So it’s not that you think he’s too cute for me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I want details.”
Oh no. That was too far. They’d been on one date and hadn’t even kissed yet. The closest they’d gotten was slow-dancing under the watchful eyes of a bunch of jellyfish. Steve wasn’t subjecting himself to that kind of mockery. “Sorry, I never kiss and tell.”
“Sincewhen? When you were screwing Austin you spilled every salacious detail!”
“That was one time!” he protested. “And I was drunk!” And complaining about Austin’s performance in bed, but he wasn’t going to repeat that in a restaurant. Maybe he should go easy on the sangria, though, just in case.
“You—”
The muffled opening bars of “Short Skirt/Long Jacket” played from the inside of Hilary’s handbag. She sighed and set down her fork. “I’m sorry. This really is a working lunch. They all are these days. Excuse me.”
Honestly relieved for the interruption, Steve waved her off. He ate his gazpacho in silence, savoring every bite. Too bad Hilary had ordered food that was best eaten hot.
When she came back in, her color was high and she looked huffy. “So. That was your producer.”
“Why is the producer calling you?” Steve had his suspicions about their mysterious producer, who never showed their face and seemed not to have a name. He wanted to be wrong, but if his mom really had financed his movie, he hoped it never got out. God, that’d be embarrassing.
She waved her hand. “Long story. Most of it not good news. But on the other hand, surprise, you’re getting a long weekend?”
That sounded ominous. “What happened?”
“Problem with one of the locations. They’ve already found a replacement, but it’s not available for a few more days. And you guys are mostly done with the studio stuff, right?”
“Yeah, we’re done until I finish writing. I guess this weekend would be a good time to do that.” He could take his laptop to his mom’s for a few days, hang out with Rita, finish the script, and catch up on his rest all in one fell swoop.
Or he could stay in town and see Drew.
Decisions, decisions.
“Well, great. You’re getting a little break, and you’re also getting a slightly different location. I’ll have someone forward you a couple photos, but it doesn’t sound like anything will need rewrites.”
Small mercies.
