Crash Into Me(10)

Her smile grew even bigger. "Yes. He and I have moved to me staying over, so you get to have the apartment all to yourself on nights like last night. Tell me you took advantage of that and didn't just come home after slaving away for Shitty Sheila and her crappy art show."

I didn't say anything, but my cheeks grew hot and my blush signaled that I had something to tell her. "Well, there was something. It's probably nothing, but..."

Jordan squealed. "Ooooh! I'm going to get a drink and you need to meet me in the living room to tell me everything. Get up and start talking!"

I loved that she was willing to listen to my silly ramblings about what would likely amount to nothing. Some friends only wanted someone to listen to them but weren't there for you when you had some juicy details, or in this case, wishful juicy details. But that wasn't Jordan.

By the time I made it out to the living room, she was planted in her favorite comfy chair with a glass of diet soda in front of her. "I'm ready, so hit me with the details."

I took a seat across from her and folded my legs under me. For a second, embarrassment rushed through my body. I was twenty-four years old and no stranger to dating. It's not like I was a virgin either. Suddenly, I felt silly about making a big deal out of my time with Tristan.

"Well?" Jordan asked impatiently.

"I met someone, sort of," I said, struggling to describe exactly what had happened.

"Nina, you never like the guys we meet. He must be something pretty damn good."

I screwed my face into a grimace. "I like some of them," I protested half-heartedly, knowing she was probably more right than wrong.

"Uh-huh. Name one."

I couldn't name one. They were all perfectly nice, I guess, but none of them really got me going. It never took long for me to fall out of like with them.

"That's not the point."

"No. The point is that you met someone you actually like. Tell me everything!"

"His name is Tristan. Tristan Stone. He..."

Just as I began to tell my story, Jordan's green eyes grew wide and she leaped out of her chair, nearly knocking over her glass. Marching over to the table by the window, she rifled through the half dozen newspapers she bought every day on her way to work downtown. When she turned around, she held up one in front of her. "You mean him?"

I craned my neck to look at a picture of a couple at some gala event. She walked a few steps closer, and I saw the man in the couple was Tristan. The woman on his arm didn't seem to be any of the women I'd seen surrounding him at the gallery the night before, though.

"What day is this from?"

Searching for the date, Jordan said, "Tuesday. Now tell me what happened with someone so famous that he ends up on Page Six regularly."

Stunned, I sat back in my seat, unsure what to tell her. I didn't know him like that. "What do you know about him?"

"Nina, you're the one who met him. I've only read about him in the gossip page."

God, I felt stupid! He wasn't just some good looking guy with a great car. He was someone famous. Now I was sure last night hadn't meant anything to him.

"I don't know anything about him like that. I saw him at the show and then he showed up at the gallery later on."

Jordan sat down and shook her head. "What do you mean he showed up later on? To buy something? I bet Sheila loved that."

"No, he was waiting outside the gallery in the alley way after I locked up."

"What do you mean? Had you spoken to him during the show?"