“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “It’s just you did it yesterday when I saw you at Wilson’s and now, so naturally, I’m curious.”

“Uh, yeah. I have a tapping problem.”

“Kinda like an eye twitch?” He laughed. “I get those all the time, especially when my roomie does crazy shit. Which is more often than you’d think.”

I smirked. “I’d explode if I tried to stop. Mostly, it soothes me … kinda like a baby that sucks its thumb.”

“Or a gunslinger who’s getting ready to fire off a shot.” He mimicked the action of pulling a gun from an imaginary belt and firing it at me.

I giggled and then cocked my head in surprise. “You’re not like I expected,” I said, biting my lip at the words. Maybe it was a sixth sense or a gut feeling, but I knew Blond Guy wasn’t judging me for my eccentricities.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, you’re overwhelmingly gorgeous—I’m sure you know that—yet you’re kind. It’s refreshing. Surprising even.” I spilled more. “My tapping was worse when it first started—I’d get blisters on my fingers I did it so much. Some of my friends, even my ex … were embarrassed by it, or maybe they just didn’t know what to say.” I stared down at the table. “I appreciate you not making a big deal about it.”

A gentle look came over his face as he picked up my free hand and stroked my palm. “There are worse things in life than tapping your leg. I don’t know what happened to you, but I’m glad you’re still here. Your tapping makes you unique. Also—” he grinned and wiggled his eyebrows “—I happen to dig different, Violin Girl.”

A bolt of electricity zapped through my insides and went straight to my lady parts. “Violin Girl?”

Just then a commotion at the door caught his attention, and I angled my head and took in Blair Storm, sweeping inside the entrance in a tight white sundress and skinny stilettos, entourage in tow. Perfect. Guess they’d moved from the coffee shop to here. Dammit. I sighed.

Patrons pulled out their camera phones and started clicking away as she waltzed around, her mane of white hair caressing her shoulders as she pranced by like a My Little Pony. A group of young girls squealed and ran to her with paper and pen out. She obliged with a sweet smile on her face.

Only I knew better.

I wished I didn’t let her bother me.

He let go of my hand and snapped up out of his seat, nearly knocking down his chair. His eyes careened from me to Blair and then back again, as if he couldn’t make up his mind about what to do or say.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He popped off his hat and ran a hurried hand through his hair. “I—I have to go. My friend’s here now.”

My eyes flew to Blair. “She’s who you’re meeting?” I hissed, filling in the gaps.

“Look, I wish I could explain, but it’s complicated.”

Disappointment settled in me, and I held my hand up. “Wait. Is she your girlfriend?” Maybe he wasn’t the sweet person I thought he was.

He shrugged, his mouth thinning, and I waited for him to explain further, but he just stood there.

“So what you’re not telling me is that you and her are a thing?”

He eased off his sunglasses and tucked them in his pocket with care as if weighing his words. “Do you mind if we talk about this later? I can’t explain—”

“No. Just tell me the truth. Are you and Bubbles going at it?”

“Bubbles?”

I waved my hands at him. “Never mind that. Just answer the question.”

“What do you mean?” He crossed his arms.

And then I started babbling. “Are you doing the bedroom rodeo with her? You know, bumping uglies? Rolling in the hay? Playing hide the sausage? Churning butter? Making love?”

His jawline tightened, and his eye definitely twitched. “I don’t owe you an explanation of my love life. How do I know you won’t spill what you know to the media?”

“I guess you don’t. Maybe I like to keep my own name out of the papers. Maybe you and Blair aren’t the only famous people in this room.” I groaned at my own stupidity. I’d said too much. I picked up my purse, eyeing the paparazzi who’d come into the shop. They weren’t here for me, and I hadn’t even been on their radar in a long time, but I still wanted to avoid them.

“Thanks for the ice cream,” I said tersely. “Next time … pretend you don’t know me if we happen to see each other.”

“Wait. Don’t go,” he said as I headed to the door.

But I knew he didn’t mean it. I wasn’t an imbecile. I could tell he hadn’t wanted to be seen with me.

“Violin Girl!” he called out, frustration evident in his voice, but I increased my stride, anxious to put distance between us. Like an idiot, I looked over my shoulder as a soft cooing came from Blair. I watched her jump in his arms and lay a big kiss on his cheek. My stomach rolled, and I don’t even know why.

I backed out the door, unable to tear my eyes off them.

“First impression? She called me a wiener.”

—Sebastian Tate

“WHO WAS THAT girl?” Blair hissed under her breath as we posed for a couple of pictures inside the ice cream shop.

“My neighbor. No one that concerns you.”

She reached out, her hands taking mine in a fake handhold. “It concerns us both if the media even sniffs that we aren’t a real couple. You want that movie, don’t you?”

I shot her a dark look. “Don’t patronize me, Blair. I know exactly what I want and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it. I also know you need me to make you look younger for those acting jobs you want. We both benefit.”

“You seem to have the gist of it.” She applied lip gloss and then puckered up her mouth. “Now kiss me. There’s a guy from TMZ here.”

I feigned a happy expression and took her mouth, my hands on her shoulders. Her hairspray smell clogged my nose, reminding me that she didn’t smell like strawberries, like Violin Girl had. I closed my eyes and wondered what kissing her mouth would be like. Would her lips be as soft as they looked? Did she like long, slow kisses or hard ones that took her breath away? Would she even want to kiss me? I clenched my hands, remembering how close we’d been at our table, how I’d ached to know more about her but had sensed she needed to go slow.