Love Signals: An opposites-attract, forced proximity, only one bed, revenge romantic comedy (Love St

7. Time to Turn Up the Charm

Hudson

If there’sone thing I can easily read, it’s people. And Dr. Allie Cammareri does not like me. Not one little bit. I could tell by the way she was scowling as soon as the interview ended. If I had to guess, I’d say she already found out I was never at her parents’ bakery. Or maybe she’s just one of those smart people who looks down her nose at regular guys like me. I don’t know, but whatever it is, I’m going to fix it. It’s either that, or this is going to be the most awkward experience of my life.

I’ve offloaded the Entertainment Nightly crew and am now attempting to find ‘my’ office, without much luck. I’ve been wandering the halls for a good five minutes now and I honestly have no idea where I am. Poking my head into the lunchroom, I hope I’ll find someone in there so I can ask for directions, but the room is empty.

The box of pastries is open on the middle of one of the tables, so I decide to bring a plate back to Allie as a peace offering. Although, since they’re from her parents’ bakery, she might be sick of them. Also, I’m not really sure why I need to make a peace offering at all and part of me feels annoyed to be doing this. But most of me knows that I’m going to need to really turn up the charm or this is going to go south fast.

I grab a plate from the cupboard labeled ‘Plates, bowls, and mugs,’ which is conveniently located next to the one marked ‘NASA freeze-dried foods.’ Oh, I hope they have freeze-dried ice cream. I used to love that as a kid.

Okay, doofus, forget the ice cream. You’ve got a job to do.

Walking over to the table, I see there’s only half a cannoli left. Half. Who does that? And also, how the hell is this all that’s left when I’ve only been here for an hour? That box was heavy with pastries.

I pick up the measly treat and place it, along with the gold lacy paper it was sitting on, onto the plate. Blerg, that looks totally lame there by itself. I hurry over to the fridge and find some strawberries in a plastic dish and set three next to the pastry. “There. Much better,” I mutter.

A couple of minutes later, I manage to find the office. I put on my best smile and walk in, only to discover Allie’s too engrossed in whatever she’s doing on her computer to notice me. I set the snack down on her desk and using my pillow-talk voice, I say, “I thought you might be hungry for a little snack.”

She glances down at the plate, and says, “Oh, thanks. That’s really thoughtful of you.”

This was a terrible idea. Just terrible. “I didn’t eat the other half or anything. This was all that was left when I got into the lunchroom.”

“Yeah, sweets move fast around here,” she says, tapping at her keyboard. “Except the freeze-dried ice cream. That’s been there for years.”

“Oh, good to know,” I tell her, glancing at the plate again. “I found the strawberries in the fridge, but now I’m wondering if I may have just stolen someone’s lunch.”

She nods. “You did. Those are Keenan’s.”

Shiiiitttt. “Stupid. I’m used to the craft service spread on set. Everything is for everyone.”

“I see,” she says, her expression basically telling me I’m an idiot. “Here we feed ourselves.”

“Should I … take them back?”

She pushes her glasses a little higher on her nose. “No, I’ll email Keenan and tell him about the mix up. He won’t mind. If you had taken something from Gwen’s lunch, however…”

“Won’t happen again,” I say, holding up both hands and grinning at her.

She nods blandly and turns back to her computer. Wow. She’s definitely annoyed because this is not how people treat me. She one-hundred-percent called her parents and found out I haven’t stepped foot in their bakery. “Say, Allie, I was hoping to clear something up with you.”

“Sure,” she says without looking at me. “But can you give me a second? I’m right in the middle of something time-sensitive.”

“Of course.” I sit down at my empty desk, feeling the air get sucked away from me. If I were alone right now, I’d totally be talking into the fan. Luke, I am your father… Huh. I’m hungry. Checking my watch, I realize it’s as fake as these stupid glasses. A fake watch? Seriously, Nola? I pull my phone out of my pocket, only to see that it’s after noon already and I’ve missed four texts from my publicist.

Brittany

We need shots of you in your professor fit on day one at the job for your Instagram a.s.a.p. Send me several of the following: At your desk, with some excited-looking staff, and next to one of those huge satellite thingies, you know, like from that old movie Contact with Jodie Foster. Take your jacket off in one of them so people won’t know it’s the same day. I’ll use some to cover us the rest of the week.

Dude, let’s get on this please. I’ve got to get the ball rolling here.

I forgot, you get extra points if you do 20 sec videos for TikTok and Reels.

Wayne from Galaxy is already on my ass to make sure his “hundred grand was money well spent,” so the sooner the better.

Me

I just finished with the EN crew. I’m on it.

I sit back in my chair and hold my phone up, trying to get the best shot for a selfie, but it looks like I’m just sitting in a chair with a blank wall behind me. I glance around and spot the picture of Einstein with his tongue out. Perfect. Getting up, I stand next to it and make the same face, then snap a few shots. The entire time, Allie’s typing away, although I can feel her eyes on me. Her super smart, judgey eyes. But when I look at her, she’s got them trained on her screen. I take a couple of shots of me sitting on the edge of the desk with a map of the solar system behind me, then send the pics to Brittany, hoping that’ll hold her off a bit.

Allie clears her throat, which is the universal sign for ‘you’re being annoying,’ so I sit back down in my chair. “Sorry. I don’t want to distract you. It’s just that the studio wants some pictures for my social media.”

“Of course. Do what you’ve got to do.”

I sit back and wait for her to finish up whatever it is that’s so important. Maybe I haven’t done anything to annoy her. Maybe she’s just not a people person. She sure is pretty though. A pretty, slightly nasty woman who probably knows I’m a big liar and has lost all respect for me.

I can fix this. I know I can. I’ll explain what happened with the pastries and ask her if I can take her out for lunch so we can get to know each other better. Only I better not say it like that because that sounds like I’m hitting on her. There’s a fine line between being charming and being creepy, and that’s a line I definitely don’t want to cross. Although if she were up for crossing the line…

Just as she takes off her glasses (which I’m sure are real), Chad pokes his head into the room. “Say, Hudson, if you haven’t had lunch yet, there’s a great sandwich shop just down the street. I’m heading there and you’re more than welcome to come with, if you like.”

“Thanks, Chad, but I was thinking I should take Allie here out to eat. You know, get to know each other a little since we’ll be working together so closely.”

Allie turns to me. “You know, that’s a really kind offer, but I am right in the middle of running this data so there is no way I’ll be able to leave my computer for at least an hour.” Glancing at Chad, she adds, “You guys go.”

Chad’s eyes light up. “So? Guys’ lunch out?”

Oh, perfect. “Sounds great.”

I stand and pocket my phone, then start toward the door. Turning back, I say, “Why don’t I bring you something back?”

“No, that’s okay,” she says, pointing to the food I brought her. “I can nosh on that.”

“That’s not a proper lunch,” I tell her. “I’ll get you a sandwich. Is there anything you’re allergic to?”

“Liars,” she mutters.

Did she just say liars? She did. It was barely audible but that’s what she said. I’m going to have to explain as soon as I get back from lunch. “What?”

“Lentils.”

I narrow my eyes a little. “Well, I’ll make sure not to get you a lentil sandwich then.”

“Thanks.”

My phone pings and I know it’s Brittany wanting more pictures. I sigh as I follow Chad down the hall. “Say, Chad, I need a few pictures to send to my publicist of me with the team. Would you be up for a selfie?”

“Certainly,” Chad answers. “Let’s wait until we get outside. We can take one by the sign.”

“You don’t happen to have any of those satellite dishes here, do you?”

He barks out a laugh. “You mean radio telescopes.”

Okay, dude, you don’t have to laugh at me. “Right. That.”

“No, the closest ones are up at Black Creek, which is over a five-hour drive from here.”

“Really? That far?”

“Yeah, you can’t set them up in highly populated areas or you get too much interference. We actually use data from telescopes around the globe. But we should arrange for you to take a trip up to Black Creek. It’s a part of the job you should know about if you’re going to convince anyone you know anything about SETI research.”

“So I don’t accidentally use the word satellite or something.”

“Exactly.”

All right, Hudson, new goal: get through lunch as fast as possible so I can get back here and fix things with Allie.

So much for my goal. When we got back from lunch, Chad walked me back to my office (which made it feel like the most awkward dude date ever), and as soon as Allie saw us, she asked Chad if I could spend the rest of the day in the server room with him under the guise of ‘it being the most important thing for me to train on and him being the foremost expert on it.’ Chad was thrilled. Me? Not so much.

I set her turkey, brie, and cranberry sauce sandwich on her desk and said, “I really hope we get a chance to talk later. I need to explain something.”

“Of course, we’ll have weeks and weeks to talk,” she answered without looking away from her screen. “Just … not right now. I’m so close to a breakthrough here.”

“Okay, in that case, I don’t want to disturb you.”

“Thanks. Talk to you later,” she answered.

But it turns out she’s the liar, or perhaps I should say she’s also a liar, because by the time Chad was finished confusing the hell out of me, it was after five o’clock and she (as well as her laptop) were already gone. She did leave a little note on my desk:

Hudson,

I’ve gone home for the evening. I’ll see you when you come in tomorrow morning. No rush in getting here if you want to sleep in or hit the gym or something.

Cheers,

Allie

If that’s not a polite way to tell me to fuck off, I don’t know what is. So now I’m back at my condo, eating supper alone, hating my life.

Instagram Reel: Hollywood Dish with Ferris Biltmore

The video starts up showing Ferris sitting at his desk wearing a fedora and a sweater vest with an orange shirt under it. “Hello bitches. Quit your bitching about the fact that I’ve left you hanging about the huge celeb who’s sporting the garish rock because after the devastating news about Hudson Finch last week, I spent four days completely horizontal. But then, I got a DM from my dry cleaner who told me her neighbor’s roommate’s sister works for Entertainment Nightly and she spilled the tea that the big man himself is off to Mountain View to prepare for the role of his life. It’s going to air this evening, and you can bet your biscuits I’ll be watching it with my eyelids taped open so I won’t miss a second.

“Apparently, his team is rebranding him as smart, like Benny Cumberbatch if he were hot. And this brings us to a new segment here on Dish called: Why Didn’t You Do This Ages Ago, Morons?”

The graphic appears behind him and Ferris leans forward, scowling at the camera. “Why didn’t you do this ages ago, you morons? You no-IQs? You … you human losers? Obviously Hudson should have been playing the smart and sexy guy all along because … wait for it … he is both smart. And sexy. You should’ve put him in these sorts of roles to start with. Although, if you had, we wouldn’t have Beach Cops or Beach Cops II which would be a tragedy for all humankind, so I suppose I can forgive you for starting him out as just the hot guy. But seriously, it took you way too long to get here. And in the interim, you made him make Beach Cops III, and do a movie that got shelved, so, you’re not forgiven for leaving him as just the hot guy until the ripe age of thirty-nine.”

The graphic disappears and a picture of Hudson in his glasses and suit jacket takes its place. “And this, my little friends, is a photo taken only this morning of the big man himself, arriving at some awful science place, where apparently he’s going to sequester himself for six weeks. I don’t know what they do but supposedly it’s something about aliens, which might actually be fun if it turns out the aliens do show up and they’re well-dressed, hot, and all about the probing. But back to what I was saying: six weeks! Those lucky, lucky bitches! Spending six entire weeks with Hudson Finch. If I got to do that, I would literally die happy. Even if I knew someone was going to chop me into little pieces as soon as the six weeks was up.”

He nods and mouths, “It’s true.”

“Now, this brings me to a special segment called: I Hate You, You Lucky Sons of Bitches!” The graphic appears and Ferris shouts, “To the people at the science place where Hudson Finch is going to be, I hate you, you lucky sons of bitches. You don’t deserve him. I don’t care how many PhD’s you’ve got floating around in that dreary building. Hudson is a god. He should be with the other gods back here in Hollywood. But since apparently he’s decided to grace you with his presence, you better treat him right. Or I’ll be coming up there. Which brings us to my new segment: Don’t Make Me Come Up There!”

Graphic swap and Ferris scowling. “Don’t make me come up there, science people. Do not. You don’t want me to come up there. And believe you me, I’m going to hear about it if there’s any ill treatment of my main man. If he gets even so much as a dirty look, I’m getting in my VW Bug and setting Google Maps straight for your office. I swear to all that is holy, you will pay if you mistreat him. I’ll see to it.

“But I digress, and there’s no time for digressing because EN is going to start in a few minutes and I need to change into something formal and find my eyelid tape. See ya later, bitches! Ferris out!”