Free Isn't She Lovely by Lauren Layne Page B

help me? Play the girlfriend?”
    And just like that, we drop the facade of the movie altogether. We’re talking about him. And me. We’re talking about us even though there is no us.
    I gape at him. “Are you freaking kidding me? You were for real with that garbage?”
    He moves quickly, pushing back from the counter and sitting back down beside me. He’s not touching me, but he may as well be for all the heat he’s giving off. I’m annoyed that I’ve noticed.
    The last thing I need is to be aware of Ethan Price. Particularly when he’s gone off the deep end about a real-life Pygmalion scenario, one I don’t think I’m going to like. At all.
    “You have to admit it’s a good idea,” he says. “Think about how much better ourscreenplay will be if we can base it on our own experience.”
    “To say nothing of what you’ll get out of it,” I say, folding my arms over my chest. “If you want to be a modern-day Pygmalion, have at it, but find some other girl to be your stone statue.”
    “Ivory,” he corrects.
    I kick him in the shin, and he grins.
    “Seriously, find someone else,” I say again, not wanting him to smile at me. Not wanting to smile back.
    His grin fades slowly, and he puts his elbows on his knees and rubs his hands through his hair. “I’m going to sound like the biggest prick for saying this, but I don’t know any other girls who won’t get the wrong idea.”
    I give him a sympathetic look. “It must be hard. A city with a population over eight million, and not a single female who won’t swoon over you?”
    “Sure, there’s one,” he says with a shrug. “You.”
    I’m not entirely sure that’s true about me not swooning. Especially when he touches me. But he’s got a point. He’s not my type. And I’m not his. Still …
    “What about someone not interested in any men?”
    He rolls his shoulders. “A lesbian would work. But I don’t know any. And if I’m going to do this, I need someone I know, at least a little.”
    “And you think I’m your best bet? You barely know me.”
    He doesn’t say anything, and I press on. “Come on, you can’t tell me that you don’t have buckets of rich, brainy female friends.”
    “Sure, but the ones I’m closest to are friends with my ex. The others …”
    “Would be too eager to take on the role for real?” I fill in.
    He gives a guilty smile.
    Gross. There really are girls ready to crawl all over him.
    “Why not just tell your parents that you and the fake girlfriend broke up?” I ask. He sighs. “Because then they’d be back on their Olivia-Ethan reunion kick. Plus there’s all this family obligation crap coming up, and Olivia will be there …”
    Bingo .
    “And you’re not over her.”
    He winces, and I know I’ve broken some sort of guy rule by even going there, but for God’s sake, it’s written all over his face.
    “You’re so pathetic,” I whisper, not even bothering to hide my smile.
    The corner of his mouth lifts. “Shut up, Kendrick.”
    “I can already tell you’ll write super-sweet cards on romantic holidays.”
    “So you’ll do it?”
    “Hell, no,” I say. “First of all, nobody would believe I’m your girlfriend.”
    “Why not?”
    I gesture down at my combat boots, baggy sweats, and skull tank top before putting a hand behind my ear to highlight my multiple piercings.
    His smile grows wider, and he gets a calculating look in his eye. “Has the film student not seen any of her precious Pygmalion-themed movies?”
    “I have …,” I say warily.
    He leans a little closer. “Then you’ll know that one of the hallmarks of such a story is the creation of the new woman. Whether it be from stone to flesh, or Cockney flower girl to lady, or angry goth to debutante …”
    I feel a little flash of panic as I begin to understand. “You want to turn me into a socialite?”
    He gives me a once-over, his eyes lingering on the important parts, and the temperature spikes about six hundred degrees.