Page 80 of Don't Date Your Nemesis

I had eaten them.

I was guilty and banned from touching or kissing her for an hour. It was a torturous hour, and I counted each second until I pounced on her like a hungry wolf and had my fill for a couple more hours later.

Although it was a grave mistake which I shall never repeat.

Okay, that was a lie. I ate it this morning, but only a couple of bites. They were addictive, unfortunately.

Deepika was gracious with every interviewer. Funny when they asked boring questions and stunning in a way that had nothing to do with the dress and everything to do with how she carried herself.

She was in her element, and I was glad that I was her date and not the annoyingly handsome Hollywood’s golden boy, Marcus Reynolds.

The ceremony dragged with speeches, musical numbers and more speeches until they announced Best Supporting Actress.

Deepika’s hand found mine, squeezing tight.

My heart pounded in my ears, wishing and hoping they would say her name.

“And the award goes to…”

Not Deepika.

Her face fell for a microsecond as disappointment flickered across her features before she pasted on a smile and clapped for the winner.

But I noticed it as I squeezed her hand back and kissed her temple. She pursed her lips and reached for her wine glass and took a long drink.

Then another.

And another.

Uh-oh.

In the limo home, she tried to act unbothered.

“It’s fine,” she said, staring out the window. “I mean, I-I didn’t expect to win anyway. The other performances were really strong. It’s an honor… j-just to be nominated, right?”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

“Deepika, you were⁠—”

“I worked so hard on that film,” she said, her voice small as the words tumbled out of her. “I improvised half my scenes because the script was terrible, and I made that character real. But I’m still just ‘the best friend.’ I’m always the best friend and never the lead.”

Tears streamed down her face, mascara running, and she didn’t even seem to notice.

I pulled her into my arms, kissing her hair.

“You were the best thing in that film,” I said into her hair. “You were robbed. They’re idiots.”

She looked up at me, her eyes red and watery. “You watched it?”

“Four times.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to understand your world,” I said, wiping a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “And because watching you act is… something special.” I’ve cried watching your movie, especially the emotional scenes, but I’m too much of a coward to confess to that.

She believed me, and I could see it in her eyes as they softened and dropped to my lips.

She kissed me. Softly and gently I tasted her wine and salt from tears. She hummed into the kiss, pressing against me in the back of a limo while LA lights blurred past the windows.