My face falls. “I’m sure I can portray intense emotion,” I snap. What had I expected? That there was some sort of connection between us? After everything? “And if you’re so anal that you have to bring work into a conversation at a party,” I continue. “Don’t make it about my personal life. You could have just said that as my director you expect me to portray intense emotion, not ask me about my romantic history.”
“You sound mad.” He chuckles. “Do you regret telling me about the two great loves of your life?” His eyes are mocking. “Lighten up, Liz…” He shrugs and raises the e-cig to his lips again.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I retort. “You… nicotine addict.”
He raises an amused eyebrow at my lame insult. Without waiting for him to respond, I flounce back into the house.
Why do I let him piss me off so easily?
“I’ve been looking for you,” Fiona catches me as soon as I rejoin the party. “Where were you?” Her eyes fix on a movement behind me and she grins. “Ohhhhh…”
“Ohhhh what?” I turn around and see that Aidan is behind me. For a moment, I feel actual physical pain just from looking at him. Why can’t things be different? Why can’t I think of him as just another guy?
I scowl and grab Fiona’s hand. “This party sucks. Let’s go.”
She starts to protest, but one look at the infuriated expression on my face, and she follows me out of the room.
Chapter Eight
Aidan
Liz stalks out of the party. Her friend follows close behind her, trying to keep up. I watch her go with regret, not sure why it takes so little to piss her off.
You’re mocking me, she’d said.
The truth was, I wasn’t mocking her. My laughter, my words…had been a defense against the intense jealousy that threatened to pull me under when she talked about her feelings for the nameless men in her past.
And I have no right to be jealous, no right to want to touch her so badly, no right to want to reach across the moonlight, take her in my arms, and never let her go.
“Hey, Aidan…” My thoughts are interrupted by a familiar face. It’s an actress I know from somewhere I don’t remember.
“Why aren’t we dancing?” Her tone is flirty.
My mind is still too focused on Liz to care about the invitation in her voice. “Because…I was just leaving.”
“Me too!”
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted to dance.”
“That was before.” She links her arm through mine, staying by my side while I go to say goodnight to McKay and Neil Anders, who is in a friendly mood from all the wine and fawning attention.
Outside, a cool breeze teases my face and ruffles my hair. It’s good weather for walking. Beside me, Amanda, if I remember her name correctly, is still holding on to my arm.
“So…the night’s still young.” She gives me a playful grin. “Wanna get a drink or something?”
“Not tonight.” She is attractive, but I’m not in the mood for a meaningless hookup. Somehow, it doesn’t hold as much allure as it should.
Because I’m thinking about Liz.
Liz, who can’t even be bothered to be polite to me.
Liz, who’s not just the star of my play, but also the producer’s nineteen-year-old daughter.
I’m obsessed with the one girl I shouldn’t even be thinking about.
My ride arrives and stops by the sidewalk, engine idling. I hold the door open for my companion. “See you tomorrow.”
She looks disappointed. “You aren’t coming?”