really go out with us.”
Garrett came over at Sax’s continued persistence and pulled my arm free. “Marissa has better stuff to do than hang out with the likes of you.”
Sax’s eyes sparked. “Let’s go find women with lower standards then.”
“Much lower,” Garrett said. They continued insulting each other on their way into the house. I circled back to get Garrett’s plate and followed them. Max had clicked on the TV and was flipping through the channels. Garrett sank onto the couch, typing on his phone.
Sax looked at the two of them, paced, and jangled his keys. “Let’s go already.”
Max stopped the channel on Karla Quintos. The high definition showed off her perfect skin. I set the dishes on the counter and watched.
Karla said, “No one expects much of Garrett Campbell’s new film Time Kick . Reports say the studio’s running behind because of his erratic no show behavior. And since Garrett has refused to do the martial arts training, my inside man says the stunts are going to look incredibly fake. Don’t you hate that, fans? Go online and tell Tween In how much. Or, if we got it wrong, Garrett, come on the show and correct us.”
Max cursed.
Sax resumed pacing with his eyes on the TV. “She’s such a freaking liar.”
Garrett said nothing and Karla came back on. “Don’t you worry, my big Scottish import, you still have at least one drooling fan.” The camera showed the sign for Scoop Out .
Uh oh.
A posed studio shot of the six finalists came on screen. I would have been excited to see myself up there in the official blue apron if the picture hadn’t immediately zoomed in on a shiny shot of my face.
Karla said, “Scoop Out’s newest contestant, Star Stalker Marissa has it bad.” The video showed a still of a coral-tipped hand drawing hearts around a picture of Garrett.
“That’s not me,” I said, holding up my unpainted nails.
The image changed to one of me barking. The credits scrolled across my face and my barks carried on in the background as the Tween In newscast ended.
Three pair of eyes swiveled to me: suspicious brown, electric blue, and Scottish green. Garrett hit mute while staring at me over the back of the couch. “Anything you want to tell me?”
I swallowed and flattened my palms on the cool black countertop. “You know Ashley arranged for me to take a cooking class so I’ll be a better cook for you.”
“Hmm.” Garrett made a noncommittal noise and his eyes flickered passed me into the kitchen. “I don’t need a cook.” His voice didn’t have the conviction it held the first time he’d said it, but his o ’s were still long.
I moved into the living room and continued my story as if he hadn’t spoken. “So I won this cutting contest and got to go on Scoop Out .”
Sax barked.
“One of the contestants quit.” I held up my hand. “I can’t say who. Confidentiality clause.”
“Why didn’t they bring back one of the old contestants?” Garrett asked.
“Dude,” Sax said. “She’s hot. Why would they bring back last week’s castoff when they had her?”
Annoyance warred with appreciation. I turned back to Garrett. “Now I can bring you show leftovers from the chefs.”
His face lit. Gorgeous. Movie star gorgeous.
Sax pointed at the TV. “I’ve got a stalker too.” He nodded like we asked for more details. “I get weird notes and my parents are upping the security.” He looked me over but spoke to Garrett. “If my stalker looks like Marissa, I may invite her to move in with me like you did.”
“I’m not a stalker. They give everyone a nickname. When Garrett called to ask about dinner his picture popped up and the rest is history.” I didn’t say I’d had the picture on my phone for six months now.
“It’s all good.” Sax bounced on his feet. “Time to go, man. Chicks with night makeup are waiting for us.”
“It’s birds, not chicks,” Garrett said.
My mouth twisted. “Women don’t love fungible nicknames.
Garrett came over at Sax’s continued persistence and pulled my arm free. “Marissa has better stuff to do than hang out with the likes of you.”
Sax’s eyes sparked. “Let’s go find women with lower standards then.”
“Much lower,” Garrett said. They continued insulting each other on their way into the house. I circled back to get Garrett’s plate and followed them. Max had clicked on the TV and was flipping through the channels. Garrett sank onto the couch, typing on his phone.
Sax looked at the two of them, paced, and jangled his keys. “Let’s go already.”
Max stopped the channel on Karla Quintos. The high definition showed off her perfect skin. I set the dishes on the counter and watched.
Karla said, “No one expects much of Garrett Campbell’s new film Time Kick . Reports say the studio’s running behind because of his erratic no show behavior. And since Garrett has refused to do the martial arts training, my inside man says the stunts are going to look incredibly fake. Don’t you hate that, fans? Go online and tell Tween In how much. Or, if we got it wrong, Garrett, come on the show and correct us.”
Max cursed.
Sax resumed pacing with his eyes on the TV. “She’s such a freaking liar.”
Garrett said nothing and Karla came back on. “Don’t you worry, my big Scottish import, you still have at least one drooling fan.” The camera showed the sign for Scoop Out .
Uh oh.
A posed studio shot of the six finalists came on screen. I would have been excited to see myself up there in the official blue apron if the picture hadn’t immediately zoomed in on a shiny shot of my face.
Karla said, “Scoop Out’s newest contestant, Star Stalker Marissa has it bad.” The video showed a still of a coral-tipped hand drawing hearts around a picture of Garrett.
“That’s not me,” I said, holding up my unpainted nails.
The image changed to one of me barking. The credits scrolled across my face and my barks carried on in the background as the Tween In newscast ended.
Three pair of eyes swiveled to me: suspicious brown, electric blue, and Scottish green. Garrett hit mute while staring at me over the back of the couch. “Anything you want to tell me?”
I swallowed and flattened my palms on the cool black countertop. “You know Ashley arranged for me to take a cooking class so I’ll be a better cook for you.”
“Hmm.” Garrett made a noncommittal noise and his eyes flickered passed me into the kitchen. “I don’t need a cook.” His voice didn’t have the conviction it held the first time he’d said it, but his o ’s were still long.
I moved into the living room and continued my story as if he hadn’t spoken. “So I won this cutting contest and got to go on Scoop Out .”
Sax barked.
“One of the contestants quit.” I held up my hand. “I can’t say who. Confidentiality clause.”
“Why didn’t they bring back one of the old contestants?” Garrett asked.
“Dude,” Sax said. “She’s hot. Why would they bring back last week’s castoff when they had her?”
Annoyance warred with appreciation. I turned back to Garrett. “Now I can bring you show leftovers from the chefs.”
His face lit. Gorgeous. Movie star gorgeous.
Sax pointed at the TV. “I’ve got a stalker too.” He nodded like we asked for more details. “I get weird notes and my parents are upping the security.” He looked me over but spoke to Garrett. “If my stalker looks like Marissa, I may invite her to move in with me like you did.”
“I’m not a stalker. They give everyone a nickname. When Garrett called to ask about dinner his picture popped up and the rest is history.” I didn’t say I’d had the picture on my phone for six months now.
“It’s all good.” Sax bounced on his feet. “Time to go, man. Chicks with night makeup are waiting for us.”
“It’s birds, not chicks,” Garrett said.
My mouth twisted. “Women don’t love fungible nicknames.
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