Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
TJ squeezes my hand, giving me an affectionate glance before returning his focus to Trish. “We were roomies for three weeks in London. Eight years ago,” he says, and the memories—dear God, the fucking amazing memories—of those twenty-one days hit me like the sun rising in the morning.
“He helped me run lines for that audition,” I say.
“He was nervous. But I knew he’d get it.”
I smile, a little embarrassed. “He was very, very encouraging.”
“That’s not all, Trish,” TJ says, and I freeze for a second, unsure where he’s going. Then, he turns to me and finishes, “Remember what I said about you getting an Oscar someday?”
Damn, that’s sweet and sexy. I lift a finger, wag it. “Don’t jinx me.”
He returns to Trish, who’s waiting with avid eyes with a laugh. “Allow me. I told him, and this is pretty much an exact quote, When you get your Oscar, be sure to thank me for running the lines that got you your breakout gig.”
I smile for the twentieth time tonight, a little glowy everywhere.
“You did say that.”
Trish beams. “What a wonderful story. Roomies reunited.”
“Hey, that could be the name of your book, TJ. Or wait—maybe The Roommate Arrangement. How about that?”
He gives me a crooked grin. “You’re naming my books now, Jude?”
“Seems I am,” I say, bumping my shoulder to his.
“Just one more question,” Trish says. We’ve made it this far, so I mentally cross my fingers that she isn’t about to curveball me with an Is William really just a friend?
She turns to my date instead. “TJ, is it too soon to expect that Jude might inspire your next big book?”
He blinks as if he’s caught unprepared. Then he parts his lips to speak, but no sound comes. He looks lost.
I jump in. “A man can hope. Thanks again, Trish.” I want to ask him what’s wrong, but a few more bloggers ask for photos, so we smile and pose and answer a few simple questions.
Are you looking forward to the musical?
-Absolutely.
What do you think of your Oscar prospects?
-It’s an honor to be nominated.
How are you enjoying New York?
-It’s wonderful, especially since my boyfriend’s here.
When we’re done, I guide TJ away from the spotlight of reporters and away from Slade and the handsome man by his side, presumably his date. I tug TJ into a corner of the theater, near a bar. “Sorry Trish asked you that.”
He shakes his head like he’s trying to shake off a mood. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal.”
But his smile is unconvincing. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive,” he says firmly, then nods to the seats. “Should we sit?”
We do, and I’m left with that all-too-familiar feeling that he’s keeping secrets. Just when I let myself believe he might feel something for me, I’m reminded of why we’re bad for each other.
We are friction. We scrape, and we grate. That’s the problem. When we’ve been good, we’ve been very good.
Trouble is, we don’t always talk to each other. We don’t break down walls very well.
But we’ve got to sell this fake romance, so I focus on the job and the parts we’re playing. As the house lights flicker, I take his hand, squeeze it, and kiss his cheek once more. “You look good tonight.” That’s true, but it’s also easy to say.
He turns to me, his expression serious, his eyes vulnerable. “Lately, I don’t like it when people ask where my ideas come from,” he says softly, just for me. “It makes me feel like a failure. Like I have no imagination. I already feel that way.”
That’s a surprising one-eighty, but a damn welcome one as TJ unexpectedly opens up to me. Though I hate that he’s so hard on himself, I’m touched that he’s sharing. “You’re not a failure. You’re brilliant, and you’re creative, and you’re just going through a rough patch.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m broken.”
I squeeze his shoulder, trying to impart some confidence to him. “You’re not. I’ve been through times like that when nothing is happening. But you’re not broken. This is a business of ups and downs.”
“It’s a lot of down right now,” he says, blowing out a heavy breath.
“It’ll change. I’ve read your books. And besides, now I have to inspire you, as Slade said. Take you on swoony dates,” I say, trying to lift his spirits as I raise my hand and play with the ends of his hair.
He offers a small smile. “Thanks. It’s a little silly. The whole thing is.”
“Yes, it is. But we can do this. We convinced Trish. We fucking nailed that. And we are going to nail the dating thing,” I say, my face dipping closer to his. And fuck it. I want to kiss him, and I’m pretty sure he wants me to.
Our lips brush, and my whole body feels every delicious second of it.