Page 19 of I Think He Knows

I sputter out a wheezy laugh, which earns me a few strange looks from people in my vicinity. One of them does a double take, says something to their friend and points. Then, after what looks like a hurried whisper-debate, strides over.

“Um, Carter Callahan?” The woman, who looks about my age, blinks up at me.

“Hey.” I smile at her warmly, but not invitingly. I know the drill by now: be friendly, but professional and to the point.

She shifts on her feet, red patches growing on her cheeks. “I, uh, just wanted to say I love you, and I love Freya DiMauritz, and I’m so excited that you’re together.”

“Well, thank you.”

It’s been just over a week since I had that initial PR dinner with Freya. The gossip columns wentcrazyfor the photos of us, so we’ve been spending a lot more manager-arranged time together in public, prime photo-opp locations. We’ve neither officially confirmed nor denied relationship rumors, but Elena wants us to lean into the mystery element of it all. She even wants to meet with both of us tomorrow to discuss me taking Freya to the premiere of my latest movie to generate further buzz.

I’m okay with it. I think. The whole faking a relationship for PR purposes thing is a bit weird, but it’s definitely not a new concept in Hollywood. Besides, Freya’s a nice girl and we’re becoming friends, of sorts.

Although Freya’s just the first prong of Elena’s multi-step approach to “redeem the fallen reputation of Carter Callahan”, as she puts it. She also had me take a surfing trip to Malibu so she could curate some clean, wholesome content for my social media and fan sites.

It was actually awesome. I can’t believe I’ve been in LA for the majority of the last nine years but never surfed. I’ll definitely go again when I can.

I exchange a few more polite words with the girl, and when she finally wanders off, I turn my attention back to my texts.

Carter:This is LA, there are many, many doctors who can change my boob size.

Then, perhaps against my better judgment, I text again with a subject change.

Carter:No date tonight, then?

Lana Mae:Actually, yes. My new slasher bestie was born out of a dinner date. The guy took me to a make your own pizza place.

What a loser.

Which is a bit uncalled for. Actually, very uncalled for. Make your own pizza actually sounds fun. I guess I’m just hot and a little hangry right now.

Carter:That’s a unique first date idea.

There, I can be nice.

Lana Mae:Second date, actually.

Carter:Wait, this is #7 again? You gave Kermit a second chance?

Lana Mae:Nope. This was Andrew. We met for coffee a few days ago, and he invited me out for pizza tonight.

Carter:I can’t even keep up!Three dates in one week? You’re a certified player, Donovan.

Lana Mae: Speak for yourself, Mr. Just-A-Work-Meeting ;)

I look up from my phone, feeling strangely and inexplicably frustrated, to find a teenage couple looking at me intently. I nod at them, and the girl immediately makes a beeline towards me, tugging her boyfriend behind her.

Dutifully, I say hi, and accept their request for a picture. After a few selfies, they thank me and leave, the girl smiling ear to ear as she taps furiously on her phone.

I watch them go, and a weird little pit forms in my stomach as the boy slings his arm around his girlfriend and pulls her in close. I don’t even remember a time when things were that simple, so cut-and-dry.

Because while I’m spending more and more time faking a budding relationship with a veritable stranger, my best friend might be falling for someone for real. I have no idea why I feel so bothered by this.

And even less of an idea if it’s in any way my place to feel anything but happy for her.

8

LANA MAE