LIAM

Ada looks like she'd rather have her dinner lit on fire than have me go sit with her. Her eyes are narrowed at me and not in a come-hither kind of way. So naturally, I enthusiastically accept the manager's invitation to join her for a complimentary dessert to celebrate her friend's birthday.

"Excellent, sir." The waiter smiles. "I'll let you know when the ladies are ready."

"Sounds great." I smirk, glancing over. Ada's got her elbows propped on the table, face buried in her hands while her friend takes about a thousand photos of their food.

"I thought you said that picture girl hates you." Wesley shoots me a questioning look.

"That she does, Wes. That she does." I take a swig of my Arnold Palmer.

"So what? You're trying to annoy her to death?"

I snort into my drink. "Something like that."

The idea of getting under Ada's skin is weirdly appealing. But I'm really hoping one of the other diners will snap some photos of us sitting together and post them on social media.

Ruby and Julian keep saying all the rumors and publicity are helping my image. I don't have any new auditions or prospects to show for it yet, though.

Wes laughs, throwing back the cocktail the waiter was only too happy to bring him even though he's underage. Celebrity does come with its privileges, not that I take advantage of that one. I never touch the stuff.

"Dude, you two just need to bang and get it over with," Wes says.

Of course, that would be his advice. He's had more girlfriends in the last year than I've had call times.

"I know this is hard for you to believe," I say, "but that actually isn't the solution to everything."

"That girl is smokin'. And all the tension between you two..." Wesley whistles. "You gotta work that shit out, man."

I shake my head but can't keep my eyes from drifting to Ada. She'd look goddamn gorgeous tonight, if she weren't a soul-sucking photog. She's wearing a black tank top that plunges low in front, making it more of a challenge than it should be to keep my eyes from traveling over her body. I haven't seen her hair down before. It's longer than I realized and looks like it'd be soft if I touched it.

"See. You're thinking about it." Wesley gives me a knowing smirk.

I take another drink, not bothering to respond.

We order another round and shoot the shit, talking about last night's Yankee's game while we wait for Ada and her friend to finish eating. The waiter must be watching Ada's table because he's there to clear away their dishes the second they're done. He catches my eye and sweeps a hand toward their table, giving me a little bow.

"I think that's our cue." I toss my napkin down.

Wesley hoists an eyebrow. "Think about what I said, man."

"You're an asshole. You know that, right?"

He chuckles as we make our way over to the girls' table.

Ada's friend notices us and leans forward, whispering something to her. Ada glances up. I've never seen someone roll not only their eyes but their entire body before, but she accomplishes it.

"Be nice," I hear her friend hiss.

"Um, hi." I stifle a laugh. Ada stares down at the table, not so much as glancing my way. "Happy birthday," I say to her friend.

"Thank you." The girl smiles hugely as though trying to compensate for Ada's obvious lack of enthusiasm. She shoots her a pointed look, and I can tell she's hoping Ada will introduce the two of us.

Seeing that that isn't going to happen anytime soon, I hold out my hand. "I'm Liam Anders. Nice to meet you."

The woman sitting at the next table—who's had one too many rounds of Botox—almost falls out of her chair craning her neck around to stare at me.

"Elodie Chen. So great meeting you, Liam." She returns my handshake with an unexpectedly firm grip.

"This is my friend, Wesley." Wes glances back-and-forth between me and Ada, a smile playing on his lips. I clap him on the shoulder a little harder than necessary.

"Awesome to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Wesley says smoothly, taking Elodie's hand in both of his.

"And you've already met Ada of course." Elodie shoots a pointed look at Ada, who's still looking determinedly anywhere but at me. There's a thunk from under the table, and Ada jumps like someone just kicked her. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

"Yeah, hi," Ada says not so much as glancing at me.

"Mind if we join you?" I ask even though it's obvious from her rigid posture she most definitely minds.

"Go ahead." She almost meets my eyes, and I notice a pink tinge to her cheeks.

I settle in beside her, while Wesley scoots into the booth next to Elodie.

"So it's your birthday?" I ask.

"Sure is. We thought we'd come experience how the other half lives for the night. This place is Ah. Maze. Ing."

I laugh. This girl takes bubbly to a whole new level.

I nod. "Almost good enough for a Paparazzi Queen." I look over at Ada, who ignores me, picking up her drink and taking a long swig.

"I gave her that nickname," Elodie says proudly.

"Really?"

"Yep. She was all nervous on the first day of her internship—"

"Elodie," Ada mutters under her breath, glaring daggers at her friend.

"Well, you were. Anyway," Elodie waves a hand dismissively, "I wanted to cheer her up, so I wrote Paparazzi Queen on the side of her cup. Who would've guessed it would become such a thing after that whole green juice incident?"

"Who would've guessed?" I echo. I'd assumed Ada asked to have Paparazzi Queen written on that cup like some kind of deluded badge of honor.

"So, acting, huh? What's that like?" Elodie turns to Wesley. He rests an arm on the back of the booth behind her and leans in, smiling. He's laying it on thick as he starts telling her about the show.

Ada's fidgeting with one of the unused forks in front of her. I'm tempted to grab her hand, just to see what she'd do. Judging by the expression on her face, I'm guessing she might punch me. I decide to keep my hands to myself.

"So—" I start.

Ada looks up at me, finally meeting my eyes, and damn. If I weren't an actor and she wasn't a photog, those hazel eyes of hers would be enough to give a guy heart palpitations. They're equal parts green, gold, and blue. The color shifts in the flickering candlelight.

I rub the back of my neck. "This is awkward."

"I don't think awkward begins to describe what this is." Ada studies my face like she's trying to figure something out. "What are you doing?"

"I was invited over for dessert." I shrug. "Here I am."

She tilts her head, shaking it from side to side. "No. I mean, why are you going along with this? The dessert, the photographs, the rumors. Why haven't you denied them?"

"Oh. That." I steeple my fingers together, tapping them against my chin as I think of how to say this without pissing her off.

Elodie's grilling Wesley about work, utterly oblivious to our conversation as Ada watches me. Her expression unsettles me somehow.

I scrub a hand over my face. "Turns out, these rumors aren't exactly bad for my career."

I glance over at her, expecting her to be upset that I'm using the stories about us to get ahead. She just raises her eyebrows, waiting for me to go on. "Apparently, my reputation has given some directors the impression I'm not willing to work with the press to promote films or whatever. Having people think I'm dating a pap is kind of a good thing for me at the moment."

That's the tip of the iceberg when it comes to why I'm doing this, but I'm not telling her more than that.

She nods like she understands. "That makes sense."

"Your turn," I say.

"For what?"

"Why haven't you denied the rumors?"

She reaches for the star-shaped charm dangling from her necklace and starts fiddling with it. "This whole thing has kind of been good for my career too. I'm not an actual paparrazo yet, just an intern. My boss has this competition going. She gives us points whenever we sell pictures, and whoever has the most at the end of the summer gets a job with the company."

She takes a breath. "She also agreed to give me points for any photos she sells of the two of us together."

"I see. So it sounds like this situation is—" I start.

"—mutually beneficial." She finishes the sentence for me.

Our eyes lock, and we both look quickly away.

"What do you say we encourage the rumors a little while longer then?" I ask.

She nods slowly. "I guess that'd be okay."

The weight around my shoulders eases the slightest bit. If Ada's willing to go along with this, then my chances of getting the part in Where There's Smoke just got a whole lot better.

I don't want her to get the wrong impression though. "We'll just make it look like we're together for the cameras," I say. "We won't really be dating or anything."

"Oh, God no," she says so quickly, it's almost insulting. My face must register my surprise, because she adds, "not that I wouldn't—I mean, I absolutely wouldn't, but you know what I mean."

"Don't worry. You're the last person on the planet I'd want to date either." I smirk at her, and an actual giggle escapes her lips. I have this bizarre feeling of pride over making her laugh.

Get your shit together, Anders. She's a photog.

"I guess we have a deal then?" She holds her hand out to me, and I take it.

"Deal."

She grins, genuine warmth in her eyes for the first time since we met.

The manager walks over, carrying a tiramisu large enough to feed the whole restaurant. A couple of sparklers adorn the top. He sets it in front of Elodie and waits as she blows them out. He claps politely before turning to me and Ada.

"If the two of you would be so kind, perhaps we could take a picture of you together?"

I look to Ada, raising my eyebrows. She shrugs. "Sure. That would be fine."

"Wonderful!" He holds up a cell phone.

We exchange a look like neither of us knows what to do. The manager's forehead furrows in confusion. He holds up his index fingers, motioning for the two of us to get closer.

I clear my throat, scooting toward Ada and wrapping my arm around her shoulders. Her body tenses against my side, and her hair brushes the edge of my jaw. I can smell her shampoo. It reminds me of the beach, coconuts. It's warm, tropical, and surprisingly, not unpleasant.

He takes the picture. I expect Ada to immediately pull away, but she stays put, tilting her chin up to look at me. "You know that De Luca cologne isn't the worst thing ever." The glint in her eyes is teasing, making the muscles in my stomach tense.

I huff out a laugh. I've been doing commercials for De Luca since I was sixteen years old, which I'm sure she knows.

"Did you just give me a compliment, Ace?"

"Never." She smirks. Then she seems to realize how close she's sitting to me, and her blush makes a sudden reappearance.

She pulls away as the concierge rushes up to the table. "Excuse me, Sir. Miss. But you may want to arrange for your transportation to pick you up at the back door. The paparazzi are swarming the front of the building."

"Damn paparazzi." I nudge Ada with my elbow.

She smacks my arm in return—too hard for it to be playful.

"Actually," I glance down at Ada, trying to gauge her reaction. "I think the front door will be fine?"

She nods. "Let me text my boss real quick and make sure she's got some photographers here before we walk out." She starts toying with her necklace again, looking worried.

I can't blame her for being nervous. She's experienced what it feels like to have the paps close in on you first hand now, and the two of us walking out of this restaurant together is going to cause an uproar. But I need Ackerman to see some convincing shots of us.

"Should I call for a car for the ladies?" the manager asks.

"That's alright," I say before Ada or Elodie can take him up on his offer. "We'll drive them home."

Elodie claps her hands in excitement. The girl has no filter whatsoever. It's kind of refreshing. Not what I'm used to. I hand him enough cash to cover dinner for all four of us with a more than generous tip. Ada starts to protest, but I hold up a hand.

"Please. My treat. Consider it a birthday present." I nod at Elodie, who makes a high-pitched squealing sound I think means thank you.

I text Briggs to let him know we'll be going out the front door. He's going to chew my ass out for this later. Walking out there when there's a mob of people waiting for us is going to make his job a lot more difficult. but it's a risk I need to take if I'm going to save my career.

Ada's peering back toward the door like she's trying to see how many paps are out there.

I stand, reaching out a hand to her. She stares at it.

"Just part of the show," I say.

She sighs like holding my hand is somehow going to be excruciatingly painful for her but nods.

"You ready for this, Ace?"

She slips her fingers into mine. "Are you ready for this, Superstar?"