I Did Something Bad

Fourteen

“May, I can—”

“How long have you known?” Tyler asks.

Hours later, we’re in May’s trailer, the two of them supposedly running lines while the crew sets up for the final scene of the day, a formal ball, which is why I’m now watching May Diamond in a backless mauve ball gown and Tyler Tun in a black tuxedo partaking in a silent duel of the gazes.

Finally, May pulls her knees up under her layers of tulle and rolls her eyes. “Does it matter?” she asks, her know-it-all smirk confirming Tyler’s suspicions.

“Yes,” Tyler says, plopping himself down on the other end of the couch.

Which leaves me the makeup chair. I swivel it around, and the squeak interrupts their staring showdown. “Sorry.”

“Did you really think you could keep a secret from me?” May’s eyes narrow once more at Tyler.

Tyler’s brows lift in response to her tone. “Where’d we mess up?”

“ We? ” May’s own brows waggle in a suggestive manner as she shoots me a glance. “I knew something was up when Tyler walked you back to the car because you were having a bad period day. To be honest, I thought you guys had had a quickie in some dark corner of the park, especially because he could not stop talking about you after the dinner you guys had. And after you left the set, he kept checking his phone and—” Tyler opens his mouth, but she holds up a hand before he can even get half a syllable out. “Please, I know you were checking to see if she’d texted. I’m your best friend, I know the look on your face when you’re waiting for a girl to text.”

My throat constricts and emits a weird gulping sound. Tyler is silent, but when I look over, shades of pink are starting to appear on his cheeks. “May,” he says, shifting in his seat.

May rolls her eyes again. “But then on that Monday when the police came to question everyone, you were fucking up every take. And while Khin was being interrogated, all you kept asking was if she was done yet. And then earlier—” She passes me an amused look. “When you went deathly pale when they brought out the pen, it all clicked. You could never be an actress by the way, Khin. No offense.”

“Heh,” is all I can say.

“This isn’t a game, May,” Tyler says, surprising me with his terseness.

But May doesn’t seem the least bit bothered. “No, it’s not. Now I need to know what the plan is.”

“Plan?” Tyler scoffs. “There is no plan. You’re going to stay quiet while we take care of this.”

“ We? ” May repeats once more, this time definitely giving me a pointed look. “If I can figure it out, do you really think no one else will find out? You’re welcome for earlier, by the way. There goes my diva pass.”

“We didn’t ask for your help,” Tyler retorts. “And that was so stupid earlier. What if someone had called you out? Like your assistant?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” May sits up and lifts her shoulders as if to say, Come at me . “Should I have let your girlfriend incriminate herself with her pen?”

“I’m not—” I try to cut in.

“This has nothing to do with you,” Tyler tells her, either not hearing the g -word, or ignoring it altogether.

May bites down on her bottom lip, eyes flattening into cutting slits. “Look, asshole, you can either loop me in and let me help you, or I start tracking your every move and meddle to my heart’s content.”

Tyler throws up his hands. “Why are you doing this?!”

“Because I’m not letting my best friend go to jail!” May counters without missing a beat. “Are you telling me that if I was caught up in a murder, you wouldn’t help me get away with it?”

“You—”

“Answer the question.”

He presses his eyelids shut with a thumb and forefinger. “Of course I would,” he finally says.

He opens his eyes and as the two of them hold their gaze, my mind races right back to that first night of shooting where I saw then what I’m seeing now, what I recognize because I have it myself with Nay and Thidar: a soft, deep love that could stretch and bend across thousands of miles without ever once ripping. Many people assume friendship love isn’t as fulfilling, as unconditional, as overwhelming as romantic love; those people are so, so wrong.

“Of course you would,” May repeats with a nod. An I’m not leaving you nod. A we’re a team nod. “Now—” She turns to me. “Where are we on lawyers? Do you need—”

“No lawyers,” Tyler answers.

“Why no lawyers?” She tosses a frown in his direction. “What happens if people find out?”

“People aren’t going to find out.”

This time, with a pointed eyebrow raise, she asks, “And what if they do? We need a backup. If someone finds out, what happens to Khin? What happens to…” The silence cloaks the air like thick netting, but she doesn’t need to finish the sentence. What happens to you?

“They’re not, ” Tyler counters with an air of finality. “You wanted to know what the plan was? Well, that’s it. The plan is that nobody finds out.”

Despite his harsh tone, May doesn’t parry. Instead, she stares, and stares—and stares for several more seconds. It occurs to me that she’s waiting for him to change his mind, waiting for him to be sure that this is what he wants to do before she agrees to follow him to the ends of the earth. At last, when she’s certain he’s certain, she nods. “Okay, then,” she says, confirming my theory. “How are we doing that?”

Tyler looks like he’s ready to try to push her away again, but I can tell by now that May Diamond and I are cut from the same cloth—that look she has in her eyes right now is the exact same look I get when I’ve decided I want something. “We’re going to a bar tonight,” I say. Tyler glares at me, but I respond with a defiant lift of my chin.

“Well, well.” May settles back and gets comfortable in her triumph. “Thank you, Khin. I would love to join you guys.” Someone gives the door several loud raps from the outside. “Catch me up in the car? I’m assuming we’ll take yours?”

We’ve been parked about a block away from Devil’s Lounge for a solid twenty minutes while trying to come up with a plan. Except, in the words of the inimitable Phoebe Buffay, we don’t even have a “pla.”

“Let me flirt with the bartender!” May grumbles, head bobbing in the center space between me and Tyler.

Tyler looks over at me for backup. “Flirting with the bartender isn’t the solution to everything.”

“No, but it could work in this case. We could go undercover—”

“Undercover?!” Tyler gives his hair a violent, impatient rake. “We’re not going undercover! Way to lean into the melodramatic actor stereotype.”

“Oh so, what? We walk in there and,” May puffs out her chest and says in a low, mocking tone, “you introduce yourself as Tyler Tun and ask if anyone will give us any information about this Jared in exchange for a ticket to the movie premiere?”

“You are so in—”

I halt one hand in front of each of their faces. “Stop! I have a plan.” I turn to May. “Any bartender you flirt with is only going to be trying to get into your pants. And it’s going to look way too suspicious when people hear that May Diamond was asking around about a specific person who they’re undoubtedly going to later find out is already dead.” Then to Tyler. “But you can’t just waltz in either. Actually, neither of you can.”

After a pause, Tyler scowls as he realizes what I’m implying. “Khin, I’m not letting you walk into that seedy bar alone.”

Protectiveness isn’t always a turn-on for me, but I kinda like it on him. “Tyler,” I say, cocking him a half smile. “You don’t think I’ve walked into seedy bars alone before?”

May props an elbow on my headrest. “It’s annoying, right? There he goes again, thinking that we women aren’t capable of handling ourselves. God forbid we enter a bar on our—”

“It’s not the women going to bars alone that’s the problem,” Tyler says. “It’s the men .”

His gaze lands on me and there’s a dark flash that I hadn’t expected. And then it makes sense. Of course. What happened with his sister.

“Hey,” I say. He looks like he’s starting to drift off to an unpleasant place. I rest my palm on his shoulder and give it a light squeeze.

As though it works, as though I’ve managed to ground him just as he was starting to lose himself, his expression softens, eyes refocusing on me. “Hey,” he says.

“I’ll be okay. And you’ll be right here, listening through the phone.”

I hold his gaze, hoping that each of my silent reassurances gets through.

Nothing is going to happen to me.

This is totally different from what happened with Jess.

I’m not scared because I know you two have my back. Especially you.

“Okay,” he says, his halfhearted nod telling me that he’s anything but. “But the second something seems off—”

I return a firm nod. “I promise.”

I didn’t mention to Tyler that I’m not really a dive-bar person because I didn’t want him to have another reason to freak out, but… I am not a dive-bar person. They’re dark with sticky floors and countertops, and just generally give me the creeps. Nonetheless, I take a seat in the middle of the counter, placing my purse on the stool beside me and my phone on the countertop. I’ve already clocked four white men—two at one far end of the counter, and two in one of the side booths near the entrance—and all of them are not subtle about their interest in me as I settle myself.

It’s a quiet Monday night. The bartender excuses herself from a conversation with the men at the end and comes over. “Hi there,” she says.

“Hi,” I chirp.

“What’ll it be?”

“Gin and tonic, please.”

“Huh,” she replies, looking like she’s trying to hold back from saying something.

With a tentative smile, I ask, “Is… everything okay?”

“Sorry,” she says with a short laugh. “I just… have never had someone under forty order a gin and tonic.”

Despite my phone volume being on zero, I swear I heard Tyler snort. “You sound just like my friends,” I say with a jovial eye roll. “But with the week I’ve had, it feels like I’ve aged ten years. I’m Kh—” I catch myself in time. “Carina.”

“Julie,” she says with a nod. She places a glass on the counter and starts mixing. “Wanna talk about it? Let me guess—men?”

I prop my chin atop a fist. “Isn’t it always? I met him on this dating app, and we had a great first date. Like, I kept worrying that the butterflies were going to pummel their way out of my stomach.”

“Awww.” Julie pauses to place a palm over her chest. “That’s cute!”

“Right?” I say with a one-shoulder shrug. “And we had an incredible night together, and were texting nonstop until a few days ago when he just—” I give her a what the fuck grimace. “Ghosted me.”

Julie lets out the deep sigh of someone who’s heard this story a hundred times. “Men,” she repeats.

“You wanna know the worst part?” I ask sheepishly.

“Hit me.”

“I… kinda went down a social media wormhole and saw that he was a regular—” My eyes dart from side to side. “Here. So I kinda came tonight hoping that maybe… I’d see him? Ugh, I know, it’s pathetic.”

Julie puts the drink down in front of me. “It’s not pathetic. What’s his name?”

I take a slow sip, pretending to mull over whether or not I should tell her. Finally, I say, “Jared.”

“Jared?” I look up, and Julie’s whole face is scrunched up. “Australian? Dark brown hair? White? That Jared?” she asks, but her reaction makes it clear that what she really wants to ask is, That’s the Jared you were gushing about?

I nod. “He doesn’t have a girlfriend or anything, right?”

“He did, but I hear they broke up a while ago. Maybe about a month? Two?”

So Dipar was telling the truth. “And you… haven’t seen him with anyone else? Heard him talk about anyone? Sorry, I know I sound nosy,” I hastily add. “I just… really liked him.”

“Huh,” is all Julie says, working overtime to be polite.

“Have you seen him?” I ask. “Recently?”

I can tell she’s really trying to school her face, but it’s like her face doesn’t know how not to look disgusted when talking about Jared. “No, sorry,” she says. She doesn’t sound sorry. “Last I saw him was about two weeks ago? Maybe two and a half? I do remember that it was also a Monday. I try to take the Monday night shifts because they’re quiet,” she explains and gestures around at the venue. “But lucky me, I got to serve Jared that night.”

She gives a surprised start when I snap up in my seat. Two weeks ago. A Monday. That was the night— “Oh my god,” I blurt. Her head rears back at my attitude shift. “That was… the night after our date,” I say. “How was he that night?”

Julie frowns at the ceiling, face screwed up in concentration. “His particular crusade that night seemed to be how”—she forms air quotes—“ all women are bitches, and all bitches need to be trained .”

I sputter. “Oh. Wow. Shit. Really?”

“Like I said,” she says with a wry smile. “Lucky me got to serve him all night. He got weird right at the end, too.”

“Weird? Weird… how?”

“Well, it was otherwise a slow night, so I was checking my Instagram, and one of my friends was livestreaming from in front of the park where they were shooting that Tyler Tun and May Diamond movie—” Bile threatens to rise up my throat, but I force myself to seem unperturbed. “Out of nowhere, Jared perks up from his seat and asks what I was watching, so I told him, and then he demanded I show him. He was fairly drunk by this point so I didn’t want to argue, and I tilted the screen toward him, just for a few seconds. I didn’t think he would be interested in a livestream of Tyler Tun getting out of his car, but I don’t know how that guy’s brain works. And then it was like he got this rush of energy, and he downed his drink and left. Without paying, obviously. I don’t know what the fuck happened, but hey, I was glad he was gone.”

He saw me. He was wasted and angry and he saw me on that livestream and despite his inebriated state, he got lucky and managed to sneak into the park from the other side. That’s what happened.

After a pause, she adds, “You know, Carina, sometimes… you should let people walk out of your life.”

I cock my head. “What do you mean?”

She wipes her hands on her apron and leans forward. Her shock has been replaced with concern, and she’s giving me more “big sister” vibes than “bartender.” The lines in her forehead constrict as she says, “You seem like a good person. And Jared, frankly, is not .” After shooting a quick glance at the men at the end, she lowers her voice to the point where I have to bend closer to hear her. “He doesn’t have any friends. Not even the other men who use this place as Yangon’s unofficial White Men’s Lounge want to be associated with him. Which says a lot. He comes in here already drunk and leaves even more drunk. My boss lets him have a tab because it’s easier than fighting him to pay for his fucking drinks. I’ve heard rumors that he’s also a shit gambler and owes more than a couple of people more than just a few thousand kyats. Basically, and I know how it’ll sound”—her eyes drop—“I wouldn’t be surprised if somebody refused to take his bullshit anymore and he’s lying dead in a ditch right now.”

“This is good news, right?” May says in the car. Although her place is farther out, we’re dropping Tyler off first because he has a meeting with his publicist and manager in approximately twenty minutes.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well, according to what Julie said, it sounds like half the city wanted him dead. That is a huge suspect pool.”

“But I’m the only one who was the star of his camera roll,” I remind her.

“But they can’t arrest you based solely on that .”

“Because cops are notorious for being just,” Tyler mumbles. “Apart from Detective Olivia Benson, obviously.”

I look over to make sure I heard his little quip right. It’s a good thing we’re waiting at a stoplight because otherwise his teasing half smile would’ve quite possibly led to a small crash, and the last thing I need right now is to crash a car that has Tyler Tun and May Diamond in it. “Obviously,” I say, and his smile grows into a full grin.

“Soooo what’s plan B?”

At the sound of May’s voice, Tyler and I break eye contact and whirl our heads to face the windshield. “I don’t know,” I say. “I’ve already talked to the two people anyone is most likely to spill their secrets to: their partner, and their bartender. What am I supposed to do, track down his therapist? But—” I mutter through a frustrated exhale. “I’ll try to see if I can find any other leads.”

When we near his place, Tyler directs me farther down the road to the side street that leads to his building’s back entrance. “What’s this meeting about, by the way?” May asks.

“Oh, the usual. Just movie stuff,” Tyler says, keeping his eyes ahead so he can point out the turn before we miss it.

Suddenly, I’m not giving the road the full attention a responsible driver should. I don’t need to see either of their faces to feel the agitation that’s crept in and is dissipating in the air around us, like a stealth gas leak.

“Movie stuff? What movie stuff? ” May scoffs. “ I’m interested in movie stuff.”

Suddenly, I’m interested in movie stuff, too. Just because the focus tonight is murder doesn’t mean I can’t also be doing some (quiet) research for my article; after all, it hits me that this is the first “normal” off-set time that I’ve ever been alone with May and Tyler, the first time I’ve seen them interact when no one else is around. What is Tyler Tun and May Diamond’s relationship when no one’s looking?

“I—hey!” Despite being startled by Tyler’s yell, I maintain control of the car. When I glance over, May has Tyler’s phone in her hand—I’m guessing his “Hey!” was in response to her swiping it from his lap—and is unlocking it. “Give that back!” he presses, but May retreats to the far corner of the backseat where his seat belt prevents him from reaching her.

“Tyler,” she says. Her reflection in the rearview mirror is squinting at his phone, then over at him, then back at the phone as she scrolls up and down. “You said it was just Bolu and Christian. There are, like, thirty people on this call.”

“I said Bolu and Christian would be the only ones from my team, ” he says, still trying to swipe for his phone like a dog at the end of its leash.

“I don’t know half of these names! What is this meeting about?”

“Studio stuff,” Tyler exhales. “It’s going to be long and boring. I can give you the minute-by-minute details tomorrow if you want, but I’d like to get in a quick shower beforehand, so can I please have my phone back?”

Now that we’re parked by the entrance, I no longer have driving as an excuse to busy myself. And while a part of me is, for obvious reasons, very intrigued by this series of events, another part is aware that this feels more akin to a private conversation between the two of them.

“Promise?” May asks at last.

“Sure,” Tyler says.

At that, May hops out from the backseat, gives him a hug good night, and takes the passenger seat.

“Hey,” I say as she types her address into my phone’s Maps app. “I’m sorry again that we got you tangled in all this.”

“Pfft.” She waves a hand. “Like I said, no way in hell I was going to let my best friend try to figure out a murder on his own. Or I guess he’s more trying to get away with murder?” She slips on her seat belt. “You know what I mean.”

“You’re a really good friend,” I say, reversing the car and rolling toward the exit.

“Hey, Khin?” she says, then pauses.

“Mm-hmm?”

“This profile of him you’re writing.”

“Yeah?” I ask casually, even though it occurs to me that since she’s the one who brought it up first, this time alone with May is a potential gold mine for said profile.

“You’re—” She hesitates again. I’m waiting for a break in the stream of cars so I can join the far lane, and can’t look over to gauge her expression. “You’re going to be fair, right?”

I see my chance and curve onto the road. “What do you mean?”

“I know you have a job to do, but… don’t take advantage of him? Please? He—” I glance over into her unexpected silence, and find a sweet yet unsure smile spreading on her glossy pink lips. This is the first time I’ve ever seen May… nervous? Tense? “He’s really enjoying spending time with you. I can’t remember the last time he let his guard down like this with, well, anyone. Especially someone who also happens to be a journalist. It’s been a long, long time since I saw him like this again, all… soft.”

I frown, not enjoying how the line He’s really enjoying spending time with you has given me immediate heart palpitations. “Soft?” I ask, ignoring the first part of what she said.

She nods. “Ty has the biggest, purest heart of anyone I know. It’s this soft, golden thing that he used to wear on his sleeve. You know he used to be one of those people that strikes up conversations with strangers on planes?”

I make a mock gagging sound. “Ew.”

“Right?” She laughs. “But now he… keeps it in a glass case because all the world keeps trying to do is crush it. Like he’s a circus animal and if they prod enough times or at the right angle, they’ll find something that makes him not soft, not kind, not him . I’ve seen way too many reporters try to catch him out, trick him into saying something potentially career-ruining, all so they can, what, say that Tyler Tun isn’t as wonderful as everyone thinks? I want to tell him to stop being so guarded and distrustful all the time, but I can’t when I see how everyone treats him. So Khin, please don’t… do that, okay? Please be fair? Kind, even?” she asks.

I know I should, at the very least, pretend to be on board even if I don’t think what May’s asking for is completely fair. I’m obviously not going to print his real big secret about his sister, but that doesn’t mean I can’t print any other confessions he relays to me. Especially ones that relate back to his career, like, say, if I managed to get out of him what his big meeting tonight was about. His family aside, everything else he tells me, a journalist, is fair game… right?

“I… I will,” I reply, and force the corners of my lip upward, relying on the darkness to hinder her ability to see through my coerced expression.

“Thank you,” she says, but I can still discern something in her tone that tells me she doesn’t believe me wholly. Then again, like she said, I suppose that’s par for the course in their line of work: How close is anyone in their inner circle to being offered the right sum to expose a secret? “Anyway, moving on.” She laughs to brush off the tension that has sunk into the creases of the leather seats. “Are you seeing anyone?”

It’s an innocuous question, one that acquaintances have asked me while we’re waiting for drinks at the bar, but coming from May’s mouth, it’s both shocking and, for a vague reason, feels loaded. “No, I—” I swallow. “I don’t know if Tyler told you, but I recently got divorced. I’m trying to take some time away, focus on myself, focus on new projects, you know, all that usual ‘wellness’”—I make air quotes with one hand—“stuff before I start dating again. Which I will, eventually. But right now, no.”

“I see.” The two words are slow, intentionally so. I peek over again, and again, there’s that sly smile on her glossy lips.

“What?” I ask with a timid laugh that I hadn’t planned.

“Nothing!” she says, but her voice not so much projects as it dances across the center console. It’s the voice she puts on during talk shows, the bright, cheery May Diamond that men, women, and nonbinary individuals alike would inexplicably bend over backward to please. It’s the voice that, paired with her gleaming smile, makes people go, Well, we don’t usually allow this, but let me see what I can do.

“You know,” she starts with an almost singsong inflection. “Tyler’s been taking a break from dating as well, but I’m pretty sure he’s looking to start again. Eventually. Maybe even soon.”

If we were talking about literally any other guy, I would say with complete certainty that she’s trying to wingwoman me on her friend’s behalf right now. But we’re talking about Tyler. Tyler, who was last seen in Sicily with Zo? fucking Kravitz. Not because I don’t think I’m on his level, but because I am not on Zo? Kravitz’s level (nobody is).

Instantly, my brain sparks with an idea. “But he dates a lot, doesn’t he? Or at least, he used to?” I ask, making great effort not to slip into what my friends call my “journalist voice.”

“He’ll go on dates, but that’s only because he doesn’t want people to think he’s a recluse loner.”

“People?”

“Industry people. The people who do the hiring,” she says with a rueful scoff. “He— we, ” she clarifies, “need to stay relevant in people’s minds. That’s why I do so many modeling campaigns, go out all the time. But Ty doesn’t like those, and he doesn’t like parties, which is another way that people stay relevant. It’s not like one of those fake Hollywood dating PR stunts,” she reassures me hurriedly. “He does like the people he goes on these dates with, but it’s never serious. He never, say, started watching Law she’s correct, but factual accuracy doesn’t do anything to abate my queasiness.

There is nothing I can do to deny it: I am jealous at the idea of Tyler dating May. I turn the epiphany over and over, trying to come at it from all angles, trying to see it through as many different perspectives as possible like it’s a prism and surely it must be distorted.

And then another, more excruciating thought flies through my brain cells before I can close the gates: I am jealous at the idea of Tyler dating anybody .

The epiphanies fall like dominoes in my brain.

Because I do not want to simply “start dating” again.

Because there is only one person I actively want to date.

“But we never have, I promise.” May’s voice cuts through the warm, heavy haze that’s blanketed all of my senses.

“Wh-why not?” I ask, because I need to know. Why would anyone choose to not date Tyler Tun?

“Because Tyler doesn’t know what he wants in a partner, and as much as I love him, I want to be with someone who does know what they want from a relationship. Someone decisive and who, if it comes down to it, knows where his priorities lie.”

Pulling up at a light, I cock my head in her direction with a generally confused expression.

“Okay, so you know how everyone is juggling a lot of balls, and sometimes you gotta drop some plastic balls to save the glass ones?” she asks.

I nod.

“But with Tyler, everything is a glass ball. You know he personally campaigned for two years to get this movie made?”

I gape at her. “What? This one?”

“Yep. He attended pitch meetings and sat down with the writers afterward to see how they could implement the feedback into the script. He’d fly twelve-hour round trips while he was in the middle of shooting other movies or doing press tours because he wanted to be present for in-person meetings,” she says. “No studio wanted to fund this film. A rom-com starring two Myanmar people, set in Yangon? But Tyler and Yasmin refused to give up. I’ve been trying to get him to chill, but of course, he’s already thinking ahead to publicity time. He and I are both listed as executive producers, but he deserves the title a thousand times more than I do. And this big call he’s got tonight? It’s probably about his next movie, or the one after that, or even the one after that. Knowing him, he’s got his next six films already lined up. Do you know he drinks three coffees every morning?”

I don’t notice that the light has turned green until a succession of loud, angry honks jolts me. “Every morning?” I ask. I guess that explains all the mints.

“Yep. He wakes up, has one coffee, runs three to seven miles depending on how much time he has, showers, has another coffee, replies to his emails because he has a self-imposed forty-eight-hour response time, and then has one last one before he heads out the door. Every. Morning.”

I’m trying to do the mental math of how long all of that takes. How early does Tyler wake up on the mornings that he has an 8 A.M. call time? Guilt warps my insides as I realize how late he’s been staying out with me in the evenings.

“He is exhausted, ” May continues. “But if he’s not busy working, he’s busy looking after everyone else. The first big paycheck he got, he used it to build his parents their dream house. He was so excited to hang out with them more while he was here, but after what happened at that dim sum place”—she shoots me a quick look to let me know that she’s not blaming me, but stating facts—“now he’s terrified that people will start hounding them. I know his mom and dad keep trying to tell him they don’t care as long as they get to see him, but he keeps rescheduling meals with them.”

I glance over at my phone to make sure I’m still on the right path. I have no idea how I’ve been driving for the past ten minutes. Shoutout to muscle memory. “And the same is… true when it comes to dating? This juggling act he’s got going on?”

May chuckles, as though this whole time she was waiting for me to circle back to this question. “Yes, unfortunately. It’s so fucking clichéd, but he doesn’t let anyone get close because he doesn’t want to be distracted and accidentally drop a glass ball. But ever since his career kicked off, he hasn’t taken the time to figure out his identity outside of it. As though he’s scared that if he takes even one break, all of it will disappear in a flash. I love him to death, but he’s one of those people who, if you take away his job, doesn’t know who he is. Or what he wants. And like I said, I want a partner who knows what he wants.”

And there we go, yet another item to add to the list of Reasons Why Crushing on Tyler Is a Preposterous Idea that I Cannot Believe I Am Even Entertaining—because that is exactly who I am: someone who knows what she wants. If I were to (after drinking a bottle and a half of wine, obviously) ask him out, it wouldn’t be for a one-night stand. No, I already know that if I were to admit out loud that I wanted Tyler Tun, I would want to dive headfirst into the deep end. The problem is, he would hesitate on the ledge.

Everything May’s saying—has said—is helping cushion the blow of my recent epiphany (although now I’m wondering if I am the last person in this world who has realized that they want Tyler Tun in that sense? Probably). After all, she knows him better than anyone in the world, and if even she’s aware that being with Tyler can only end badly, then I’m certainly not ready to offer up my heart like that. My brain rewinds to another thing she’s said in this conversation, about how hard Tyler’s worked to get this movie made. Because that’s what he’s here for, and in spite of the ever-growing guilt that I hadn’t anticipated when I first got this assignment, it helps me refocus and remember what I’m here for. We’re both simply doing our jobs. This time we’re spending together is just that small sliver in the middle of the Venn diagram where we temporarily overlap.

“What about you?” she asks. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

“No,” I say, the lie pricking my tongue.

That night, I enter my office—noting guiltily that this is the first time in weeks that I’ve opened this door—and write on the whiteboard, not at all a note for my assignment but a giant, block-lettered reminder to myself for if and when I come close to having a lapse in judgment: DOESN’T KNOW WHAT HE WANTS. NOT FOR YOU.