Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy(48)

“A little of both, I guess you could say.” He grins and sets a to-go cup from Alfred’s Coffee in front of me. “This is the best coffee LA has to offer.”

“You brought me coffee?”

He nods. “I figured you could use a little coffee to go with your M&M’s.”

I quirk a brow, and he nods toward the bag of half-eaten trail mix by my phone.

“I’ve noticed you’re a fan of trail mix. Well, I should say the M&M’s in trail mix,” he adds. “Truthfully, it goes against the integrity of trail mix, and everyone knows raisins and peanuts are the best part. But to each their own, I guess.”

“So, let me get this straight,” I begin and put both of my elbows on the table. “You came over here to annoy me and school me on the proper way to eat trail mix?”

“And bring you coffee.” He winks. “You can’t forget about that.”

“I brought you one of everything, Birdie,” Samantha says in a rush as she plops two plates full of food onto the table before she drops it onto the floor. “A turkey sandwich, pasta, a baked potato, salad, yogurt—you name it, and it’s here.”

She’s too busy trying not to drop shit that she doesn’t realize Andrew is standing beside the table, watching her with amusement.

“And your coffee!” she exclaims, removing it from the crook of her arm and setting it on the table. It’s then that she notices there are now two cups of coffee sitting in front of me. With her head tilted toward the side, she glances between me and the coffees before she lifts her eyes from the table and finds Mr. Hollywood Heartthrob standing right there.

“Oh, hello,” Samantha says and her eyes go wide for a brief moment, but then she checks her expression and forces a neutral smile to her lips. “I’m Samantha Mallory, Birdie’s assistant.” She sets the rest of her loot on the table—two bottles of water, a Twinkie, and a pack of Oreos—and holds out her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. Are you with the lighting department? I haven’t really had a chance to meet any of those guys yet.”

I bite my lip to fight my laughter. She knows who he is, but goddamn if she isn’t the best assistant in the whole wide world.

“I’m Andrew Watson.” He smirks as he shakes her hand. “Not with the lighting department, but I can vouch that Kenny and the rest of the lighting crew are good people. And I can also tell that you are the perfect assistant for this woman right here.”

“Oh, so you’re Birdie’s costar in the movie, right?” Sam continues to play dumb, and Andrew just nods.

“I sure am,” he says with a big smile. “I just stopped by to bring her some coffee and say hello. And now, I shall be on my way to get ready for our next big scene together. I believe it’s Scene 33?” He feigns uncertainty. “Is that right, Birdie?”

I just glare at him, which only makes his smile grow.

“See you on set, sweetheart,” he says, and then, after flashing a little wink in my direction, he turns on his heel and heads out of the tent.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Samantha says and lets out a little wolf whistle as she sits down beside me. “Andrew Watson is even more attractive in person. Which is saying a lot because he is always fuckhot in magazines and shit.”

“Too bad he’s an asshole.”

She eyes me knowingly. “A fuckhot asshole who brought you a coffee.”

“Yeah.” I snort and make a point to toss said coffee into the trash can behind our table and take a sip from the fresh one she just brought over. “He probably poisoned it or something.”

“Man, you really don’t like that guy, do you?”

I shake my head and start spreading butter on my baked potato. “I pretty much loathe him.”

“What’s Scene 33?” she asks and takes a bite of strawberry yogurt.

“God, don’t remind me.”

“What? What’s wrong with that scene?”

“It’s a sex scene, Sam. A freaking sex scene between Arizona and Cal.”

“And that’s the next scene on the books for today?”

“Yep.”

“Oh boy.” She bites her lip to fight her laughter.

“Do tell why you’re one freaking breath away from laughing your ass off.”

A snort escapes her nose. “Aren’t male actors supposed to, like, wear something called a merkin over their junk during sex scenes?”

“A merkin?” I question. “What is that? Some kind of penis mermaid tail?” Cheese and rice, now I’m going to be picturing a penis soldier in a seashell bra.

She cackles. “Lord, I wish. I’m pretty sure it’s basically just a piece of cloth to sort of hide the goods, but it doesn’t really hide the goods.”

“Oh my God,” I whine. “Why would you put this in my head right now?”

She shrugs, and I glare. “Just eat your stupid yogurt.”

Andrew Watson and his size thirteen penis in a merkin?

Maybe I should’ve drunk the coffee he brought me…

A little poison never hurt anyone, right?




I am a confident, sexy, empowered woman who is about to roll around in a bed in front of a whole bunch of people in just a pair of nude panties and a barely-there bra, and I’m perfectly okay with this.