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

22. If Cinderella Had Been Set in the Time of Smart Phones…

Allie

Oh my God.Is this happening? Does he actually want to kiss me? Here? Now? The look on his face says the answer is yes. He wants to kiss me. In public, where any one of the hundreds of people in the audience could just look up and see us sitting in this box. Hudson Finch wants to kiss me. Every cell of my body hums with excitement. I lick my lips, then I hear myself saying, “But this isn’t a real first date. It’s a PR stunt.”

What the hell, Allie? When Hudson Finch says he wants to kiss you, you say yes.

He glances at my lips and moves in a little closer. “We get to decide what this is,” he murmurs, cupping my jaw with his hand. “And I want this to be a real first date.”

Say yes, idiot. Say yes and kiss him before he changes his mind.“You do?”

Giving me that smile from his People’s Sexiest Man cover, he nods. “But only if it’s what you want, Allie.”

“I don’t know. I mean, it definitely sounds so much more fun than you reading the playbill to me, so…”

“Yes or no, Allie.”

“Yes.”

My eyelids drift shut and he closes the distance between us, kissing me softly, carefully, making sure I want this. And after a second, my grip on the playbill loosens and I feel it slip out of my fingers. I lift my hand to his jaw and feel his smooth skin against my fingertips and breathe in the scent of him that’s been making me wild for three long, torturous weeks. I let out a little moan that feels suddenly desperate and slightly embarrassing, because that little sound is an admission that it’s been years since I’ve been properly kissed. But his reaction tells me I have nothing to be embarrassed about. I part my lips to give him more access and he takes it, sliding his tongue into my waiting mouth, doing things to me that I never thought would happen, things I’ve been dreaming and thinking about when I’m supposed to be working.

Our mouths move together like they’ve always known each other, and yet it’s also new and fresh. It’s intoxicating and amazing and terrifying all at the same time. I know we shouldn’t be doing this, but there’s no way I want to stop. He tilts my head back a little further, his hand moving to the back of my neck, his thumb caressing my cheek tenderly while his lips and tongue wake up parts of me that have forgotten what a man can do. All this time I’ve been pretending I don’t need or want or care about this. But I do. I want it. I want it all. And I want it from him. I’ve never felt more like a woman than I do in this very moment, here with Hudson.

A light cough from behind us interrupts the moment, and we pull away from each other, both of us trying not to laugh as an older couple who will be sharing the box take their seats behind us. My face flames with … well, everything … while Hudson turns to them and smiles. “Good evening.”

“Hello,” the man says with a knowing grin.

“Say, aren’t you that actor?” the woman says.

“I’m Hudson, nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand to shake each of theirs while the man says, “I’m Jack and this is Jackie, my wife. And who’s this lovely lady?”

“This is Dr. Allegra Cammareri. She’s an astronomer and the most impressive person I know.”

Oh my God. Best introduction ever. Yes, I will marry you. I will be your wife. Not that he’s asking…

Jack offers me a wry grin. “Yeah, you looked pretty impressed with her a minute ago.”

Jackie smacks his arm. “Shush. You’ll embarrass them.” She turns to me. “We were young and in love once too. Pretend we’re not here.”

“They’re hardly going to make out with us sitting two feet away,” Jack says. “Sorry to kill the moment.”

“That’s fine,” I tell them, even though my lady bits are yelling at me that it’s absolutely not fine at all. “It’s probably better that we stopped there.”

The lights dim and the audience starts to applaud. Hudson and I turn to face the stage, my mind swirling and my heart pounding as the opera starts. He slips his hand onto my lap and interlaces his fingers with mine, spreading warmth from the top of my head to my toes. This is a proper date. A proper first date, he called it, which means he wants more of them. We’re all dressed up and I look beautiful for once in my life and he’s holding my hand and I have no idea what’s happening on the stage because my thoughts are booming and sparkling like fireworks and my heart is exploding with joy and all I can think about is how very badly I want to climb onto his lap and crush his mouth with mine and run my hands all over him and frantically take off this dress and his tux and go so much farther than would be considered even remotely smart with a man like him.

The entire first half of the opera my mind races like this, thoughts of all the lusty, wonderful things I want to do with him swirling around in my head. What if we do them all as soon as this is over? What if we get in the limo and pick this up where we left off? Would I actually have sex with him? In the back of a limo? Yes. I would. I’d happily go for that ride. And it may sound cheap or sleazy, but it wouldn’t be. Not with him. Not with the way he takes care of me at every turn. He’s everything I’ve always wanted, and the truth is, I’m in love with him. Totally and completely in love with him. As much as I’ve been trying to convince my heart to stay dammed up, he’s managed to break it open and now all the emotions are just pouring through me. There is literally nothing I can do to stop it. Not that I’d want to. So I’m going to sit here holding his hand, and after the standing ovation, when we get back in that limo, I’m going to have a glass or two of champagne to bolster my courage, then make it very clear that I want him. All of him. And I want him tonight.

The lights come up for the intermission and Hudson turns to me. “How about a glass of champagne?”

“I’d love one.”

We stand, then slowly follow the crowd in the direction of the lobby. I can feel his hand on my lower back and it’s all I can do not to press myself against his fingertips. When I look back, I see he’s got his phone out and his face is screwed up as he stares at the screen. “Shit,” he mutters.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m really sorry, but we need to get out of here,” he says. “I’ll explain it when we’re in the car.”

My heart beats a little quicker as I take in the worried expression on his normally relaxed face. He types something into his phone before we walk down the wide staircase to the main floor. “Come on. We need to go out the back.”

He takes my hand and leads me to the back entrance, then stares out the window. As soon as the limo pulls up, he says, “Let’s go. We need to hurry.”

The driver steps out and opens the door for us while Hudson and I rush to the car. I get in first, then slide out of his way and wait, my stomach twisting as I wonder what the hell is going on.

Once the door is closed, he lets out a sigh and stares at me for a second. “Someone was filming us when we were in the balcony.”

“What do you mean? It’s already on the internet?”

He nods. “Unfortunately, yes.”

I stare at him for a second, watching as his jaw clenches and he glances out the window, wondering if my coach has already turned into a pumpkin far before the clock struck twelve. “Well, that’s not such a big deal, is it? We were just kissing,” I say as the limo crawls through the alley.

“In theory it’s not a big deal, but now that it’s on video for public consumption, it’s going to create a whole new level of interest in you,” he says.

I open my clutch and pull out my phone, one part excited and one part terrified. I let a little grin escape at the idea of Lando the Liar seeing me snogging a Hollywood superstar. Suck on that, Lando. I’m moving up in the world. “Let’s see what they have to say.”

I search Hudson Finch opera date and immediately a bunch of videos pop up. “Whoa. That was fast. The opera’s not even over yet.”

“Yeah, that’s why I wanted to get you out of there. By the time it is done, the paparazzi will be swarming.” The limo pulls out of the alley and when I look out, I see camera crews setting up in front of the opera house. A guy with an enormous lens on his camera spots the limo and comes running toward it, but the driver pulls out and takes off before he can reach us.

“This is not how I was expecting this evening to turn out,” I mutter.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

I offer him a small smile and a shrug. “Well, the whole idea was to get some good publicity, so I suppose we could say mission accomplished.”

He smiles back, trying to look reassuring, but I can see in his eyes, he’s concerned. I look back down at my phone, my curiosity taking over. I scroll through the videos until I get to a famous celebrity gossip blogger. “Ooh, Ferris Biltmore has already posted about us.”

“I don’t think you should watch that.”

“Why not? He’s hilarious.”

“But he’s not exactly kind. Let’s just … forget about all that nonsense and try to enjoy the rest of the evening.”

I glance at him for a second, then press play, my stomach in knots.

Ferris stares at the camera for a second, then says, “Okay, bitches, breaking news out of San Fran tonight. My Hudson is out on a date and it looks like they’re heating up the opera house. Check it out.” The feed cuts and a video of us starts up. We’re sitting in the balcony and just as I’m holding up the playbill, the camera zooms in on us. I watch as Hudson tells me he would very much like to kiss me. You can’t tell what he’s saying on the video, but his words are burned into my soul. We talk for another few seconds, and now he’s kissing me.

Oh God, is that what I look like when I’m kissing? Why is my chin doing that? And why are there two of them? I don’t have two chins. Do I?

The video stops and Ferris bites his knuckle. “Okay, so here’s the scoop on the woman in question. I already got the dirt from my cousin’s best friend’s pet psychic who knows a guy who went to school with her. Her name is Allegra Cammareri and she may look pretty here, but trust me, she ain’t in Hudson’s league.”

“Okay, let’s shut this off.” Hudson tries to take the phone from me, but I pull it away.

Ferris rolls his eyes. “This brings me to my first segment of the night, ‘Hudson, What Are You Thinking?!’”

The words appear next to his head and Ferris shouts in the camera, “Hudson, what are you thinking?! Making out with this … less-than-average person?!”

A terrible photo of me that Lucia tagged me in on Instagram pops up to replace the graphic. It was taken on my thirtieth birthday, and I was sweaty after being out on the dance floor at the bar. I also had just taken a shot of Sour Puss and my face is all screwed up like the cat on the bottle.

“You’re fucking with this?! This?!!!” Ferris says, his pitch going so high I can hardly hear him.

My body goes numb as Hudson slides the phone out of my hand and shuts it off. “Shit. Sorry.”

I sit, stunned, humiliated, and hurt, tears stinging my eyes as Ferris’s words blare through my brain.

“I know it’s hard, but try not to take it personally. He wouldn’t be happy no matter who I was with.”

I nod a little, trying to pretend I’m fine with the whole thing. “It’s all good. I know he’s got a thing for you. And that picture of me is probably the worst one anyone has ever taken. I’m going to kill my sister for posting that.”

“You’re fine. You just look like you’re having a really fun time,” he says. “Unlike now.”

I chew on my bottom lip, my mind racing to figure out what this is all going to mean. “Okay, so the team is obviously going to find out, and oh, crap, my family too.”

Hudson winces. “Your dad.”

Nodding, I say, “Yeah, and you thought it was awkward when he just suspected you of wanting to…” I trail off, not finishing the sentence because I honestly don’t know what Hudson wants from me. “Maybe don’t come over tomorrow for Sunday dinner.”

“Yeah, that would be the smart play,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I knew better and I’m sorry.”

My entire body feels hot, but not in a good way—hot with shame. I stare down at my hands and fold them on my lap, not knowing what to say.

“That didn’t come out the way I intended. I’m not sorry I kissed you, I’m sorry I kissed you in such a public place because now your life is about to get a whole lot more complicated.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Just … don’t go looking online. It won’t do you any good to read the shitty things people have to say.”

“Some of them may be nice.”

“You won’t remember the nice comments. Only the nasty ones. Trust me. I know.”

We’re quiet for a long time, then Hudson says, “Hey, would you like to get something to eat? I hate that the night is ending so early.”

I shake my head, my stomach too tied up in knots to want to eat. “No, thanks. I think it would just draw more attention.”

“What if we go through a drive thru? In-N-Out Burger?”

“I don’t want anything, but we can stop if you’re hungry.”

“That’s okay. Why don’t I just get you home?”

“Yes, that would be good,” I answer. “I can’t wait to get into some cozy pajamas and crawl into bed.” Alone. Without the man of my dreams.

I stare out the window for a few minutes, then feel Hudson’s arm wrap around my shoulder. He gives me a kiss on top of my head and pulls me close. “I’m sorry.”

I let myself lean into him, basking in the warmth that is his body. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault.”

“No, it is.”

He holds me like this for the rest of the ride home, neither of us saying or doing anything more than just snuggling together as my mind tries to wrap itself around reality. This is what it would be to be with him. It wouldn’t be a fairy tale. It would be the relentless pursuit of privacy. It would be me never measuring up to what society believes Hudson should have. It would be me getting hurt over and over again. I close my eyes and let my thoughts drift, feeling hollow and alone, even though he’s right here.

When we pull up in front of my parents’ house, the lights are still on, which means my parents are still awake. I reach up and unclasp the necklace, letting it drop into my hand. My skin feels cold and empty where the jewels were, and I hand them to him with a sad smile. “Thank you for the lovely evening.”

“It wasn’t lovely. I screwed it up,” he says, sliding the necklace in his jacket pocket.

“You tried. That’s what matters,” I answer. “Besides, even half a date with someone like you is a once-in-a-lifetime thing for a girl like me.”

The driver opens the door and Hudson gets out, then holds his hand out to me, and I take it, allowing him to help me. He grips my hand and turns toward the front door, but I stay put. “I think it’s better if we say goodbye here.”

Hudson opens his mouth to protest, then closes it and nods. “All right. The last thing I want is to make things harder for you.”

“I’m fine. I’ll see you Monday, work buddy,” I tell him with a little punch on his arm.

“See you Monday.”

I start toward the house, but he stops me with his voice. “Allie, wait. Let’s not end things like this.”

Turning to him, I say, “It’s the only possible ending. I’ve already gone through all the possible scenarios in my mind and they all end exactly like this, only much, much worse.”

He was right when he said I wouldn’t remember the nice comments, not that there are many of them. I will remember the nasty ones forever, because they feel like they’ve been branded into my soul. It’s two a.m. and I’m lying in bed still scrolling, even though I should’ve been asleep hours ago. Even though I should be working. Even though it’s going to do me absolutely no good to read about how I should never wear anything without sleeves until I spend at least a year hitting the gym to tone these sausage arms. It’s definitely not good for my self-esteem to read about what a mismatch Hudson and I are or how I should be the poster girl for ‘skinny fat,’ or how he’s really scraping the bottom of the barrel as far as dates go. Oh, and here’s another one: CuteGirl24 has posted to Hudson that she’s right here in L.A. waiting for him to come back and that she literally has no gag reflex, so that’s lovely.

I finally force myself to shut off my phone and put it on the charger. I close my burning eyes, wishing I had never agreed to go out with Hudson. Wishing I’d never met him. And certainly wishing I’d taken his advice about not reading what the trolls have to say. It’s hard to believe that only a few hours ago, the world was full of possibilities. I was filled the excitement of the start of something new and wonderful. Only it wasn’t. And it can never be. And believing that it could be anything more than something professional makes me the stupidest person to ever walk the Earth.