plenty of sleep. And I try to eat mostly healthy and I do yoga and I don’t binge drink or anything. I guarantee I’m healthier than you.”
There was no good reason for me to feel so defensive, except it always felt like he was judging and attacking me.
“Yeah, right. Getting so high you dance half-naked on a table in a nightclub is healthy.”
I stiffened, realizing he’d seen that notorious video of me from when I’d been nineteen.
I hated that video—taken on someone’s phone—and I’d never be able to live it down.
I’d gone a little wild that year, trying to shake my childhood star reputation. I’d done some stupid things. But that video made it look a lot worse than it really was, and it had been shown all over the news and internet.
I controlled my reaction—made up of anger and something like betrayal—and narrowed my eyes at him. “That was one night. It happened to be documented. Are you really going to tell me you’ve never had a night that would look just as bad if it had been caught on camera?”
He met my eyes for a minute, and there was momentarily something like understanding in his gaze. Then he glanced away and muttered, “I’ve had hundreds of those nights.”
The words actually made me feel better.
How we’d gotten into this conversation, I didn’t know. We’d just been talking about how we’d slept the night before. But it was the best conversation we’d had in a week. He felt like a human again—and not some cold, dangerous, sexy stranger.
I let out a breath. “Everyone has.”
He turned his head to meet my gaze again, as if in response to the softness in my tone. Our backgrounds might have been light years apart, but we still understood each other. Knew each other somehow. Were similar in ways neither one of us could have predicted.
“Not everyone,” he said in a different tone, with almost a smile on his mobile mouth. “You should meet my buddy’s girlfriend, Kristin. I don’t think she’s had a wild night in her life.”
I laughed. “Maybe she’s had nights you don’t about.”
“Maybe. But I doubt it.”
“Don’t you like her?”
“Sure. I like her fine. I’m just not sure what she sees in Declan, since he had nothing but wild nights until he met her.”
“Well, love changes people. And sometimes we’re drawn to people who are completely opposite from us.” I’d come over to sit on a stool beside him as we talked, but I flushed a little as I realized what I’d just said.
It was true. It was absolutely true—since Cole was as different from me as possible, and I was ridiculously drawn to him—but I didn’t mean to say it. What if he thought I was talking about us?
He didn’t react to the words. Just gave another half-shrug. “Yeah. I suppose that’s what it is. They’re happy, so why should I question it? It’s all a mystery to me anyway.”
“What is?”
“Love. The way people couple up. It never makes sense, and it always comes out of the blue, and I never expect it to last.”
I’d always felt the same way—like love was some sort of magic that happened to everyone but me. I’d sometimes watch couples and wonder in bewilderment how they’d gotten together and what they saw in each other and why something like that had never happened to me.
I’d dated plenty, but I didn’t think I’d ever really been in love. Whenever I dated someone, even if I really liked him, it always felt like I was going through the motions, like I was pretending to be someone other than me.
I couldn’t imagine what it was like to be with someone for real and just be me.
“Yeah,” I said at last, looking away from him since I suddenly wanted to reach out and touch him. “I’ve never gotten it either.”
We sat side-by-side, drinking coffee, lost in our own thoughts. But it felt like we were together somehow.
When I was feeling too vulnerable, I realized I needed to start thinking about something else. “So what are we going to do