Free Playing the Perfect Boyfriend (Gone Hollywood) by Julie Particka

simple fact that Jade laughed— laughed —at an anal joke was one of the many things winning his affections. Then she followed up with, “Your intentions were clear long before we walked into that store, and you didn’t hear me saying no, did you?”
    Sexy. Funny. Honest.
    He loved that she didn’t filter. Almost without fail, whatever came to her mind seemed to come out of her mouth. She wanted sushi for dinner? Jade didn’t beat around the bush with a “whatever you want.” No, she said she wanted sushi for dinner. Sex on the bar? She said, “Hey, what do you think about eating dessert off each other tonight?” They’d ended up going a different direction last night, but he fully planned to revisit the dessert thing later.
    But more than that, she made him feel like he didn’t have to hide who he was. With her, he was free to be himself—to let the illusion of guy-next-door drop—and it felt good after keeping everything in check for so damn long. Even before landing the Providence Academy gig, he’d learned to default to Mr. Nice Guy. The practice had served him well for years, but Jade didn’t need to be handled with kid gloves, which meant he didn’t bother with filters, either. “I know you said I only get one drawer, but I’m wondering if we can renegotiate.”
    She lowered her sunglasses down her nose and arched a brow at him. “What did you have in mind?”
    “Next week, I have to be on set almost every day, and your place is thirty minutes closer than mine, more if there’s traffic. Not to mention the drive to my place for the sole purpose of grabbing clothes for the next day to then turn around and drive here…”
    So far, he’d spent every night at Jade’s, only returning to the house he shared with Chaz and Todrick while she was at work. He’d pick up new clothes, check his mail, chat with his buddies, and then turn around and head back to the W. But once he had to start work at eight in the morning, and earlier as soon as filming actually began, spending the night would be a thing of the past—unless her place became his place. And, if she said no, he didn’t want to think about late nights filming. Their faux relationship would become their no relationship simply because there wasn’t time to see her.
    “What you’re saying is I either let you bring more stuff over, or I give up my good-night kiss.”
    “Oh, you can still have a kiss, but it’d be a quick one, on the mouth, and that’d have to be it most nights.”
    Her lips twisted into a smirk. “I like just kissing. It’s one of my very favorite things, so you better sweeten the pot, lover boy.”
    Had he not known from her tone she was teasing, he might have been offended. But he’d not only gotten to know her sarcasm the last couple days, but her nipples were perking under her T-shirt, and her breathing had gotten quicker. She didn’t want that long, body-covering good-night kiss to disappear any more than he did.
    Glancing up as a group of tourists brushed past, he caught sight of two things: a guy with a camera way more elaborate than your average sightseer, and Ghirardelli’s. Perfect. They could kill two birds with one ice cream. “If sweet is what you want, may I also offer you a Presidio Passion sundae? We can sit at the counter and share it, be one of those disgusting couples who make googly eyes at each other.”
    She laughed, full and loud, no inhibitions at all. “What is it with you and food?”
    “I like food. I like you. The combination is pretty much irresistible.”
    “Wait a minute, I thought you were Mr. In—Incorrigible. Insatiable. Incognito.” She flicked his baseball cap, and it tipped up. “Sometimes inconceivable. Definitely ineffable.”
    “Ooh, nice word,” he said, taking off the ball cap so the photographer could get a clear shot of the two of them. If nothing else, she couldn’t complain that he wasn’t living up to his side of the make-sure-Isak-saw-them-out bargain.
    “Thank