I’m silent as he checks his phone, but when he turns my way, I finally speak. “Hey.”
“Jesus Christ.” He startles, his fist clenching until he sees that it’s me. “You stayed?” he questions, his face marred with confusion.
“I did.”
He frowns as his eyes bounce around the room. “Is everything okay?”
“Is everything okay withyou?”
“Of course.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Why?”
“Because you were clenching your fist and I didn’t think you had it in you to punch someone.”
That perks him up. “Are you calling me weak?” He raises an eyebrow as some of the stress evaporates from his features, his shoulders dropping.
“With those muscles?Never. But you weren’t your happy self when you walked in.”
“Just more Bria bull…stuff”
“I’m sorry. I really wish that would all work out for you. Want to talk about it?”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I want to eat. Do you want to stay for lunch?”
“You’re my ride home, so… I’m at your mercy.”
“Is that why you’re still here?” he questions, hitting me with a smirk that could melt steel.
“No, it’s not actually.” I stand tall, folding my arms across my chest. “If you must know, I was woken up early by a phone call and fell back to sleep after. Your arrival woke me.”
“At twelve?”
“Yes, at twelve. Put that judgy expression away.”
Reed chuckles. “Sorry, it’s been a while since I slept that late. Actually, no, I’ve never slept that late. But you do you, Hayls.” He bites back a smirk and I snort.
“You said something about lunch? Put yourself to use, would ya.”
“Anything for you.”
Anything for me? I grin but my mind drifts back to my conversation with my agent.Would you fake date me for me, Reed?I bet you would. Lucky for you, I’m not going to ask.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Hayley
Igroan as the cheesy goodness coats my taste buds, the heat warming my soul. “I don’t know how toasties taste different over here, but they’re sooo good.”
“Toasties?” Reed cocks a brow as his lips pull into a grin.
“Sorry.” I roll my eyes. “Grilled cheese. You and your American words.”
“Funny that. You know, with me being American.”
“It’s still annoying,” I huff. “It’s safe to say I have at least one person a day staring at me like I have two heads. And a director at the audition last month asked me to say, ‘put another shrimp on the barbie.’ We don’t even call them shrimp, you jackass.”
“You don’t?” Reed questions and I’m about to have a go at him when he cracks up laughing. “I’m kidding. I knew that. It’s prawns, right?”
My eyes narrow and I fake a pout. “Lucky. You’re right.”
