She shakes his hand and I know her well enough to guess that every molecule of blood has risen to the surface of her skin and is banging at the door. I bet her hand feels like a piece of burning coal in his palm right now.
“I have to say this,” she says, voice tight. “I’ll do my best to be cool, but I’ve seen everything you’ve ever done, and it won’t be easy for me to not lose it a little that you’re standing in my apartment.”
He smiles sweetly. “I get that. I still get nervous around actors I like, too.”
She makes a hilarious sound—half moan, half yelp—as she covers her face.
“What can I do to make you feel more comfortable?” he asks.
She laughs from behind her hands. “Probably nothing.” She turns jerkily in place, unsure what to do with her body. “Actually, I might drink.”
“Well,” he says, “I’ll drink, too. And if it makes you feel better, I have done incredibly stupid and embarrassing things in front of Gigi.”
A laugh rips out of me. “Oh, please. When?”
“You once walked in on me dancing to Eminem in my underwear.”
I gape at him. “When was this?”
“I think you were… seven? I was thirteen. It was terrible.”
“I have zero recollection of this,” I tell him, awed. “I’m deeply disappointed in my subpar brain.”
Alec laughs. “I really thought I traumatized you.”
“Clearly not.”
“And the hip-hop at the Larchmont talent show?” he says, wincing.
An image floods my memory and I clap a hand over my mouth. “How did I forget this?”
“Hip-hop?” Eden echoes, finally.
Alec nods, looking at her. “A few of my friends and I were pretty sure we were going to be the next big thing on the LA hip-hop scene when we were…” He looks up. “God, maybe sixteen? Gigi and Sunny would watch us practice after school for months.”
“They were so bad,” I confirm, remembering the routine they’d worked up, with lots of aggressive hip thrusting, empty space being filled with mumbled “yo, yo, yos,” and dubious attempts at break dancing. “Wow, keep going, this is great.”
“I think that’s enough for now.”
“This did help a lot.” Eden takes a steadying breath. “I can remain conscious for whatever happens next, but I don’t think I can call you Alec.”
“Okay.” He squashes down a charmed smile, and it does nothing to help the dimple situation. “What will you call me?”
She studies him. “Frank.”
He lifts one eyebrow. “I look like a Frank?”
She nods. Already I can see her unwinding. “You are my roommate’s friend, Frank.”
“Sounds good,” he says with a decisive nod. “Can Frank order some pizza for Gigi’s roommate, Lucy?”
“Does Gigi get a new name, too?” I ask.
“No,” Eden says.
Alec agrees easily. “Too many new names to remember.”
I turn, walking into the kitchen. “You two seem to have it figured out. Who wants a beer?”