“No…I’m sorry,” I hesitantly took the bag from him. “I was um… testing something. Thank you…very much.”
“No problem,” he scratched his head and turned to walk away.
“Wait, Ethan…You want to come in and talk for a second?”
“Sure,” he looked into my eyes as he walked into my suite.
I turned away from him and closed the door. “I was going to call you tomorrow…”
“Really? And why is that?”
“To tell you thank you for all the flowers. I like them a lot, especially the roses.”
“You’re very welcome. Shouldn’t you be in bed still?” he looked concerned.
“I was just going out to get some water from downstairs but I umm…I uh,” I couldn’t believe I was turning into mush in front of a regular guy. “I guess I already have that from you, huh?”
I motioned for him to follow me into my bedroom and sit on the sofa. I sat in the armchair across from him and folded my legs.
“So,” I avoided looking at him. “What type of errands do you have to—”
“Do you want me to stop pursuing you, Selena?”
What?
“No…What makes you say that?”
“You always avoid looking at me whenever I’m around you, unless you’re drunk. Are you afraid you’ll hurt my feelings if you tell me you’re not interested?”
I am interested…
“No…I’m,” I looked right at him and sighed, “I’m not used to dating regular guys…”
“I see…What’s the opposite of a regular guy?”
“Someone famous or ridiculously wealthy, like a billionaire or something.”
He smiled then shook his head. “Well, I’m definitely just a regular guy then. Does that bother you?”
“No…Well…Are you going to judge me if I tell you something personal?”
“Never.”
I leaned back in my chair. “Ever since I was a little girl, my dream was to marry someone famous. I wanted to be the next Julia Roberts and I wanted to marry somebody like Brad Pitt… As soon as I won my first modeling contract, my acting career kind of took off overnight and I wanted to find my dream husband even more so…I’m not trying to sound shallow or anything, but for the past four years I’ve only dated famous guys because I wanted to fulfill that dream.”
“Hmmm. Have any of these famous guys you’ve dated been nice to you?”
“In the beginning they were…But I guess overall they weren’t...That doesn’t mean I won’t ever find someone though.”
“Famous?”
I didn’t answer him. I looked down at the paper bag I was holding in my hands.
“Okay,” he stood up. “Well, I sincerely hope you feel better soon and—”
“You’re dumping me?”
“Dumping you?” he looked confused. “How can I dump you if we’re not—No, I’m not dumping you. I’m—”
“Moving on to the other fish in the sea?”
He nodded. “Something like that…But for the record, you’re a very beautiful woman and I’m sure you’ll find whatever you’re looking for soon. I’m going to—”
“I never said I wasn’t interested in dating you, Ethan…I am interested, I just—there are a lot of issues, and if you knew them, you wouldn’t want to date me anyway. I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t a good person. I’m not.”
“Selena, you should stop saying—”
“No. Listen,” I figured I might as well be honest for a change. “A week ago, my assistant gave me a reflective journal. She told me to fold two pages in the back and label them ‘self-improvement.’ One page was supposed to be a list of negatives—things I regretted doing over the past four years, things I needed to improve on, and things I would never do again. The other page was for positives—good things I’ve done for other people, things I’ve done well besides acting, and things I don’t need to change about myself….”
“Okay…” he looked even more confused.
“I still haven’t written anything on the positive pages. I can’t think of anything positive I’ve done over the past four years. Not one thing. If I did do something that seemed selfless it was only because I got something out of it in return—like publicity…I’m sure you wouldn’t want to date someone like that so I’m saving you the trouble. You should run while you can...”
I gripped the paper bag and looked down, waiting for him to say, “Thanks for the warning, sweetheart. See you around,” but those words never came. I looked back up and saw that he was still standing there, grinning.
“I’ll take my chances, Selena…People can change. Are those your only issues?”
“No…” I wanted to trust him but, “Did you really not know who I was when we first met? Like, you’d never seen any of my films or read anything about me? Ever?”
“I honestly had no idea. I’ve never kept up with celebrity culture.”
“And you promise you’re not a reporter?”
“I promise,” he looked sincere.
I crossed my arms and bit my lip. If he was a real reporter, he wouldn’t have had flowers delivered and personally brought soup over. He would’ve videoed my drunkenness last night and been well on his way to New York to expose me on every national network by now. He would’ve snapped pictures of me in a Sweet Seasons’ uniform, sent them to every press junket possible, and the paparazzi would’ve landed here in droves.