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“All right, Freckles,” he said. “I think we convinced him.” Her eyes met his in a daze. “What? Who?” For the first time, Fox felt his heart speed up into a sprint while off the water. Had Hannah just kissed him … to kiss him? Because she wanted to? He thought of the way she’d stopped dancing when he walked in, the way she’d moved in his direction as if drawn by a magnet. Had he misread everything? Was this not about making the director jealous? “Hannah, I … thought you were trying to show Sergei what he’s missing?”
“Mamas don’t bother warning girls about jerks like yourself, because no one would come within ten feet of you. Smelly old ball sac!”
Obviously he hadn’t fooled Hannah into thinking he didn’t give a shit about anything. That life was just a series of pleasures and amusements for him. This girl, she saw through it. Worse, she wanted to reach him. But he couldn’t let that happen.
It was entirely possible her interest in the director had started fading around seven months ago, when a certain Fleetwood Mac album showed up on the doorstep, and now it was completely null and void. Still, as far as an answer to the question, was her relationship with Fox serious? She didn’t know. But she found herself taking a deep breath and saying, “Yes, it’s serious.”
“The main-character moment?” “Yeah. You know, when you’ve got the perfect mood going, soundtrack to match. And you’re on a rainy road, feeling dramatic. You’re the star of your own movie. You’re Rocky training for the fight. Or Baby learning how to merengue in Dirty Dancing. Or you’re just crying over a lost love.” She turned slightly in the seat. “Everyone does it!”
“Fox, if we were together, my trust would be the only trust that matters. And you would have it. I know who you are.
“He told Brendan he hasn’t been to Seattle since last summer,” Piper supplied, leaning forward on the bar to join the conversation. “He’s been waiting for you, Hanns. Like a ‘lovesick asshole’—and that’s a direct quote.”
