She looked at him sideways.

“And what are you not good at?”

He laughed again.

“I guess I walked right into that one, didn’t I? I’m less good at all of the politicking on Capitol Hill, the trading favors and using coded language and being passive-aggressive—I hate all of that, but I feel like I’m going to have to learn how to do a better job of it in order to get anything done in the Senate.”

He was probably being too honest with Olivia, but he couldn’t help it. She’d asked him a real question; he wanted to give her a real answer.

“Why did you run for Senate in the first place?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“I’m an arrogant asshole who thought I could handle it?”

They both laughed.

“I’m sure that’s true, but why else?” she asked.

He pulled into the movie theater parking space and turned off the car before he answered.

“I wanted to make a difference. I know, it sounds so trite. But it felt like . . . I had a charmed life, you know? I was born rich, I grew up in fucking Beverly Hills, life came easy to me. I didn’t understand that for a long time, but once I did, I realized it was all a waste unless I used my abilities and my privilege to help other people. I was a prosecutor first, and that’s when I really saw how much pain and sorrow there is out there in the world. And I got really sick of putting people in prison—people who didn’t deserve it, or who had gone through so much in their lives. And I knew the only way to really fix things was to change the laws in the first place.”

He looked at her for a second and then looked away. That might have been a little too much honesty. But it was hard not to tell Olivia the truth, when she looked at him like she really cared about what he said. Like she cared about him. He told most of the world the glib, easy answer, but somehow he couldn’t do that to her.

Ah. This was why Wes was so concerned.

Granted, he hadn’t told Olivia the entire truth—this was still the flattering version of his life story. He still wanted her to like him, after all.

“And now I’m in a job where I wear fake glasses to go out on a date—I hope you like these.” He pulled a pair of new glasses out of the glove compartment and slid them on, and was relieved to see her smile. He grabbed his UCLA cap from the back seat and put it on, too.

He wanted to reach for her hand, but it seemed too early for that. He compromised, and put his hand on her back as they walked toward the theater.

“Anyway, I hope this movie is funny—after the week I’ve had, I could use a few laughs.” He looked over at her. “I’m glad we could do this. It’s really great to see you again.”

Olivia smiled at him, and moved closer to him as they walked.

“I’m glad, too.”

Max seemed different tonight, and Olivia couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was their second date, so they knew each other a little better? Maybe it was the texts they’d been exchanging all week, which had gotten progressively more friendly and relaxed over the course of the week? Maybe it was his mood, just off the plane from DC? Whatever it was, she liked it. He seemed more human.

She’d been especially surprised by his heartfelt outburst about his job on their way here. She’d wanted to ask him more questions about that, but he seemed a little embarrassed, so she decided to hold off. But everything he said about his job made her respect him more.

She shook her head at herself. What was she doing? She didn’t need to like and respect this guy! Sure, yes, it was nice, since she’d likely be voting for him for reelection in about four years, but this movie was just a preamble to sex later that night, and then they’d never see each other again. Liking him too much was a waste of time!

Max scanned the tickets from his phone, and they found their seats inside the movie theater. This was one of those new theaters with reserved seats and big comfortable chairs, and when they sat down, they grinned at each other.

“Can you believe we put up with those old, narrow movie theater chairs for so long?” Max said to her.

“You read my mind,” she said as she reclined her chair. “These are great.”

He reclined his chair to meet hers, and handed her the popcorn.

“Don’t let me eat so much popcorn I ruin my dinner,” he said.

She laughed.

“If you were that hungry, we could have stopped on the way here. Or gotten you your own popcorn.”

He shook his head.

“I’m actually not that hungry—I ate so many of those cookies they give you on the plane, but it’s easy to eat an enormous amount of popcorn without even thinking about it.”

When the trailers started, Olivia relaxed into her chair. She barely cared what was on the screen; it was just nice to be out, in this comfortable chair, with Max next to her. Their arms touched as they lay on the armrests, and it felt soothing. Comforting. For just a moment, she could believe that someday her career and life would be in order again. She moved her hand just a tiny bit closer to his, and he immediately wove his fingers together with hers. She had a sudden instinct to pull her hand away—this felt too . . . boyfriend-like. She didn’t want a boyfriend, and she especially didn’t want someone like Max Powell for a boyfriend. He was too high profile, too full of himself, too high maintenance for her. And she was sure he didn’t want someone like her for a girlfriend. But she couldn’t bring herself to let go of his hand. So they watched the rest of the movie like that, hand in hand.