Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy(47)

A yawn escapes my lips, and I giggle. “Coffee.”

She smirks. “And what else?”

I yawn again. “Two coffees.”

“Food, Birdie,” she remarks and rolls her eyes. “What do you want to eat? A bagel? A sandwich? Some pasta? They have pretty much everything you can think of.”

Considering it’s almost noon, I’ve been up since four this morning, and I’ve yet to eat anything of substance since the day started, I should be hungry. But should is the operative word. Ever since last night, when I realized my afternoon shoot would involve the dreaded Scene 33, my stomach has been a mess.

The freaking sex scene between Arizona and Cal.

“Honestly, Sam, I’m not that hungry.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “You have to eat something.”

“I’m eating right now,” I retort and hold up the bag of trail mix toward her. “See?” I pop two more M&M’s into my mouth and grin.

“That doesn’t count.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m talking about actual food, Birdie.”

“Fine.” I groan. “Just get me something light, then.”

“How about a bagel with some fruit?”

I want to say hell no, but in the name of keeping the peace, I mutter, “Sure. Sounds peachy.”

My assistant turns on her heel and heads out on her food search, and I take the time to pull my phone out of her purse that’s sitting on the table and scroll through my notifications.



Billie: OB-GYN says my vagina is looking stellar. Holding down the baby fortress as it should and everything. A model seven-month pregnant woman, I am.



I’m so glad the appointment went well, but the reminder that I still have to wait to find out if I’m having a niece or nephew until the baby is born is beyond dissatisfying. Ugh. Just tell me if it’s a boy or girl already!

I keep scrolling to a text from Rocky with a link to a comical story about my costar Tawny Rose. Apparently, the diva showed her whole ass on social media the other day—bitching about how difficult it is for a woman like her in show business, and lots and lots of people had things to say about it.

After snorting a couple times at the writer’s metaphorical use of the words “full moon,” I move out of my message folder and into my email.

The two top spots in my inbox are filled by my manager Neil with endorsement proposals from a makeup company and a famous fashion designer wanting me to be the face of their fall line.

And an email from my publicist Candy, asking me if I would like her to put out a statement regarding Tawny Rose’s social media meltdown, sits just below that. Apparently, quite a few magazines and media sources have reached out for my comments. Not happening. The evil part of me would kind of love to let the world know just how difficult that woman makes things for everyone else, but the rational side of me knows, in this case, it’s best to keep my opinions to myself. Those stories aren’t mine to tell.

“Well, hello,” a too-familiar voice says near my ear, and I lift my eyes from the screen of my phone to find Andrew standing beside my chair, grinning down at me. “How are you doing on this fine day, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Good Lord. Does this guy ever quit with the sweetheart bullshit?

“Pretty good,” I answer but make no move to return the sentiment.

Of course, he doesn’t miss a beat.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I’m doing?”

“Um…” I tilt my head to the side and search his eyes for a brief moment. “Nope. No, I’m not.”

A soft chuckle leaves his lips. “You know, I get the sense you’re pissed at me, but I can’t quite figure out why…”

Now, it’s my turn to laugh.

He grins. “And now you’re laughing at me.”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Are you laughing with me or at me?”

“Do you want the nice answer or the honest answer?”

His grin grows. “Hit me with the honesty, firecracker.”

“Firecracker?” I narrow my eyes.

“Call it an inside joke.”

“An inside joke?” I scrunch up my nose in confusion. “With…yourself?”

“Yep.”

“I’m starting to wonder if you can actually hear how ridiculous you sound…” I cackle. “Andrew Watson likes playing with himself.”

“Let me guess. This is another thing you have a problem with?” he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Call me crazy, but you having problems with me seems to be a recurrent theme.”

Good God, he has taken me so far down the rabbit hole of ridiculousness, I don’t even know what we were talking about in the first place.

“And where’s your new buddy Johnny?” he asks with a cheeky-as-fuck grin. “I figured the two of you would be getting cozy over some lunch.”

“I could ask you the same thing about your friend Tawny,” I snap back and immediately regret it when his lips curl up in amusement.

I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut around this guy. I need to do everything in my power not to react to whatever bullshit he’s peddling. Because Lord knows that’s what he wants. A reaction.

“Why are you here again?” I ask. “Is it just to annoy me, or is there an actual purpose to this lunch interruption?”