Free How to Get Ainsley Bishop to Fall in Love With You by T. M. Franklin Page A

together, as a couple—”
    Any argument I had got stuck in my throat. A couple. Right.
    “—and I don’t really feel right doing this without him, you know?” She looked up at me hopefully, and then her eyes darted to the side. I followed her gaze to see Ian coming back up the stairs.
    “Are you sure about this?” I said, lowering my voice as he drew closer.
    “Just drop it, okay?” she said under her breath. “Leave it, Oliver. Please.”
    Ian stepped up and dropped an arm over her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ve got the keys. You ready to go?” He glanced at me, and there was something in his expression. Something not quite hostile, but definitely cool. “What’s up, man?”
    “Nothing. Just heading home.”
    He nodded and turned toward Ainsley, effectively dismissing me. I started to walk away, unsure of what else to do, and heard him say quietly, “We okay?”
    The smack of a kiss, and then Ainsley replied, “Of course we are. We’re good.”
    By the time I got to my truck, they were already pulling out of the parking lot. I heaved my backpack onto the seat, the stolen play making it seem heavier than usual. I stared at it for a while, my thoughts churning. Ainsley said to leave it alone. Ainsley said she wanted to leave the play as it was.
    But she really didn’t. I knew she didn’t.
    I started the truck and cast one more sidelong look toward my backpack, chewing on the inside of my cheek. Maybe . . .
    Maybe I could go ahead with my plan. I could get some ideas about how to improve the play and bring them to her. Maybe she’d see how good it could be and change her mind.
    I mean, there was nothing wrong with that, right? Putting together some suggestions, getting some input from someone who knows the business? Ainsley would appreciate that, right?
    I pulled out onto the road and ignored my pounding heart. It was the right thing to do. Ainsley would see that.
    Eventually.
       
    “Did you bring it?” Hank leaned in like a secret agent in a spy movie. I nodded, glancing over my shoulder—not sure why, because it was hardly like I was passing off international secrets—before I handed him a copy of Ainsley’s play.
    “This must be some girl,” he said, flipping through the pages as he leaned back in his chair. We were sitting in the common room at the senior center, chatting over bowls of pretty decent rice pudding—if rice pudding could be decent.
    “She is.” I twirled my spoon in the pudding and then toyed with my phone as Hank read. After a while, he rolled up the script and tapped it against his open palm, a faraway look on his face.
    “So what do you think?” I asked.
    He huffed out a laugh. “It’s terrible.”
    I sighed. “Yeah.”
    “But it’s not unredeemable.”
    “Seriously? You think so?” I felt a rush of hope in my chest. Maybe I could actually help Ainsley. Show her that I could be someone she could count on.
    “The problem is, she’s written this”—he glanced at the title—“ Love in the End Zone , as a romance, but it’s screaming to be a comedy. I mean, the premise alone is rife with comedic opportunity.”
    “Comedic opportunity?”
    He held up a finger. “ Missed comedic opportunity.”
    “So you think it could be funny. I mean, in an intentional way?”
    Hank nodded. “Oh yeah. It’s halfway there already. Only needs some tweaking.”
    I frowned, unsure of how Ainsley would feel about that. “What kind of tweaking?”
    “Well, take this scene for example,” he said, turning a couple of pages. “Layla is in the locker room by herself, since she’s the only girl on the team, and wondering if she’s made a big mistake because Bo doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to her.”
    I nodded, my eyes scanning the familiar page. There were more parts than Drama Club members, so Ainsley was playing Layla as well as directing.
    “But what if she can’t use the girls’ locker room and had to use the boys’?”
    “But