Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy(55)

We all take a drink, amused smiles etching all our faces.

“While I’d love to stay around and chat, I need to resume my hosting duties,” Howie says, an apologetic grin on his lips. “But please make yourselves at home and stay as late as you want.” He proceeds on the host path, excusing himself from our little circle and continuing to make his way through the party.

And the night moves on from there.

I chat with Johnny, laugh with Serena’s tipsy antics, and even find the courage to make my way around the party and introduce myself to familiar faces I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting in person.

Besides the cast and crew and studio heads attached to Grass Roots, I meet Fortune 500 CEOs, reality stars, fashion designers, famous TV personalities, uber-famous Hollywood actors, and the list goes on and on.

The attendee list is a hodgepodge of the rich and famous.

And I’m certain my sister is probably slightly annoyed that she and Luca didn’t make it out here tonight. So much so that I decide to take the time to text her about it.



Me: You’ll never believe who I just met.



Billie: It’s almost one in the morning, Birdie. Where in the hell are you?



Shit. It’s already that late?

I guess Samantha was right. I did need a night out to let loose and have fun.



Me: I’m at Howie King’s house. Tonight was his party for Grass Roots.



Billie: Oh shit, I almost forgot about that. If I weren’t so damn pregnant, I would’ve made Luca go with me.



Obviously, I know her well.



Me: That’s exactly what I told Howie. And, any guesses???



Billie: Just freaking tell me already.



I send her the discreet picture I took a few minutes ago.



Billie: Is that Timothée Carver???



Timothée Carver is an up-and-coming early twentysomething actor who is entirely too adorable to miss.



Me: It sure is. And I also met this guy, too. ;)



I send her another picture. This time, it’s of another famous—and incredibly sexy—actor by the name of Zack Hallows. He’s shirtless and just about to jump into Howie’s pool with a bunch of other partygoers.



Billie: Oh, what the forking forklifts. Consider me jealous right now. I also vote for you to bring Zack Hallows back to your place and bang his brains out.



Me: I’m pretty sure he’s dating some model.



Billie: Model, schmodel. Who cares. Go bag Hallows.



Me: LOL. Okay, crazy lady. I think all those pregnancy hormones are starting to go to your brain.



Billie: You texted me at 1 a.m. I’m practically 8 months pregnant and fall asleep before the freaking sun goes down every damn night. You should expect nothing less than crazy talk after 9 p.m.



Me: Go back to sleep. I love you.



Billie: What about Andrew? Is he there tonight?



Me: Of course he’s here. Mr. Attention Whore wouldn’t miss this kind of party.



Billie: Well, if you can’t convince Hallows to break up with his girlfriend, just take Andrew home and angry-fuck him.



I roll my eyes. Andrew Watson is the last person on the planet I’d take home tonight—or any night, for that matter. Not to mention, all freaking evening he’s been surrounded by his harem of fangirls, fawning over his every word.

Not that I’m paying attention or anything.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

Okay, fine, so maybe I’ve been paying a little attention. But it’s more out of amusement than anything else. I’m simply entertained by how easily he can be so fucking charming, when I know that underneath that megawatt smile is a certified asshole.



Me: Jesus Christ. What is with everyone thinking I need to screw someone tonight? Samantha was encouraging the same ridiculousness.



Billie: Because it’s been like five years since you’ve had sex. We’re all worried for your vagina. Hell, I think I might start a prayer chain or a GoFundMe in her honor.



Me: Ha-ha. Very funny. And it’s been like a year, you psycho.



Billie: 5 years…1 year…it’s all the same. A really LONG time. Anyway, I’m going back to bed. I’ll see you at lunch with Rocky tomorrow. Love youuuuuuu.



Since Rocky is back in LA for Harrison’s business trip, we’ve already made plans to meet back at Frankie’s at noon tomorrow. Truthfully, I’m excited to have a few hours to gab with the girls. Especially since I have a whole bunch of crazy Tawny Rose shit to gossip about it.



Me: Yeah, yeah, see you then.



I slip my phone back into my small clutch and head back into the house in search of some food. The fact that I’m a few glasses of champagne deep and the last time I ate was the burger and fries Samantha brought back for lunch means I need to find sustenance soon or else I’ll be feeling hella hungover tomorrow.

But when I step into the dining area where the tables upon tables of food were set out earlier, I realize I’ve officially missed the window of dinner opportunity.

Shit.