“Of course, that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying it’s clear Caleb genuinely liked you and probably . . . I don’t know, felt like he didn’t want to mess up your friendship. He was your employer, after all. Your direct superior. That made you technically off-limits to him, right?”
I’m not impressed with his logic. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up. I appreciate that. But I think Nate was right. He was this douchey crew guy. And he—”
“Sound guy?”
“Yeah.”
“I know Nate. I hate that guy.”
“So do I! He’s such a douche. Nate was the only guy who kept hitting on me, even after that drunken game, until I finally told him to stop. I said, ‘Look, I’m never gonna get with you, dude. So, leave me alone.’ And you know what that asshole said to me in reply? He goes, ‘If you’re holding out for C-Bomb or one of the other band members, don’t bother. Those guys can pull anyone they want, three at a time. They’re never gonna stoop to banging a lowly PA who’s a six, on a good day.”
Colin practically spits out the vodka drink he just sipped. “That motherfucker said what to you?” Breathing fire, he pulls out his phone and begins swiping. “That asshole follows me on Instagram. I’ll spam-like a bunch of his photos, so he looks at my profile. And when he does . . . Come here, Ames.” Colin holds up his phone, framing our faces. “Snuggle up to me, like we just got finished fucking in the bathroom. Let that asshole think I just went ‘Instagram official’ with my hot new girlfriend.” I nuzzle close, freaking out he called me hot. And when I get a whiff of Colin’s delicious cologne, and he kisses the side of my head in reply, I feel butterflies, even though I know Colin’s only pretending to be my boyfriend for the photo.
Snap.
The photo taken and approved by me, Colin posts it like a man possessed, and then, as promised, immediately spam-likes a slew of Nate’s photos. But midway through his online campaign, Colin pauses and looks at me. “Nate doesn’t know you’re like a sister to me, does he?”
Fucking hell. I was feeling like something new had maybe started bubbling between us during this meal! He called me attractive! Said I’m hot! Was all the mutual attraction I thought we were both feeling all in my head, again?
“Uh, no. I didn’t mention my connection to you during the tour to anyone but Caleb.”
Colin freezes. “You told Caleb about me?”
My heart begins pounding. “Just that we grew up together and you’d gotten me the job.” I pause, not understanding Colin’s stiff body language. “Did I mess up somehow?”
“No. Of course not. How’d Caleb react when you told him about me?”
“He was super sweet. He said he wasn’t surprised you got me the job because you’re a good, loyal friend. He even said he missed hanging out with you.”
Colin’s eyes saucer. “Caleb said that, or he implied it?”
“He said it.”
“He said he missed hanging out with me?”
I nod. “He did.” My heart skips a beat at the excitement in Colin’s expression. Obviously, this bit of news means the world to him. “I know Caleb and Dax had some sort of falling out,” I venture tentatively. “But Caleb had nothing but complimentary things to say about you.”
“Yeah, Fish and I had nothing to do with what happened. Neither did the rest of the RCR guys. Even Dax didn’t have any hard feelings, really. It was all Caleb. Dax tried to reach out to him, lots of times. But Caleb Baumgarten is one stubborn motherfucker.”
I run my fingertip over a fork in front of me, my heart thrumming. “Do you think maybe you could reach out to Caleb now, since so much time has passed, or would that make waves for you with Dax?”
Colin purses his lips. Takes a sip of his vodka drink. He fiddles with his napkin for a long beat. “Yeah, I think I could do that.” He flashes me a crooked smile. “Thanks for telling me what Caleb said.”
My heart feels like it’s pounding against my sternum. Fireflies are ravaging my belly. Swoon, swoon, swoon. “You’re welcome.”
The air between us feels charged, like Colin’s a magnet and I’m steel. I’m not imagining this crazy pull between us, am I? Colin’s gaze drifts to my lips, briefly, and then to my boobs, and then to his drink on the table, where it remains. Was Colin thinking about kissing me just now? Or am I falling prey to wishful thinking again?
“Hey, Colin!” Logan says, pulling Colin’s attention from his drink on the table. “Do you remember that time when we were about ten and . . .?”
And that’s it. The electricity coursing between Colin and me, real or imagined, is gone. Colin is engaged in conversation with my brother now, and I’m looking at the back of Colin’s head. Shit.
Exhaling, I pull out my phone and sneak a peek at the photo Colin posted of us, and my heart physically palpitates at the sight of it. Oh, how I wish the canoodling couple in this photo were real.
“Yeah, so this guy named Nate . . .” I catch Colin saying, even though his head is turned. “Such a dick . . . sound guy . . . So, I posted a photo of Amy and me on Instagram, looking like we’re a couple.”
What’s that now?
When I’m able to tune into Colin’s voice above the chatter and clatter at the busy table, I hear him explaining that photo of us to Logan. He’s telling my brother the shot was meant to “bait” Nate into feeling like an “asshole” for “negging” me during the tour. And Logan is laughing and thoroughly enjoying Colin’s story.
“I’m gonna post a bunch of shots with Amy and the Goats tomorrow night at the wedding, too,” Colin explains, before launching into describing our strategy for impressing that employment agency in LA. “So, don’t be surprised if my Instagram looks like The Colin and Amy Show this weekend.”
“That’s so awesome!” Logan says, laughing. “Thanks for doing all that for her. You’re the best.”
I frown, feeling thoroughly annoyed. I’m grateful for everything Colin is doing for me, of course. I can’t wait to head to LA and work for him, however briefly, and stay at his place while doing it. But does Colin have to go to such great lengths to make sure Logan doesn’t think, even for a second, Colin and I could possibly be interested in each other?
After a bit, Colin returns to me and catches me scrolling through his Instagram account. “Has Nate liked our photo yet?”
“I didn’t look.”
“Well, let’s see.” He picks up my phone, taps on my screen, and scrolls for a long beat.
“Oh.” Suddenly, there’s a shift in his body language—a subtle jolt of his torso that makes me think we’ve struck gold and caught a fish called Nate on our line.
“Nate liked our photo?” I ask.
“Huh? Oh. No.” He puts my phone down on the table and smiles. “So, Amy. I just got yet another brilliant idea to help you. I’m going to a friend’s birthday party in Malibu next weekend—the Saturday before shooting starts for me. Tons of famous faces will be there, so why don’t you come with me as my ‘date’ and try to land yourself a job there?”