Page 39 of Burn the Script

I’m not surprised. The thought of socializing with strangers kills his appetite. Once I’d figured out that turning my body into a dessert platter was the easiest way to get food into his stomach after a party, I stopped trying to feed him beforehand. We both reaped the benefits of that discovery.

“What’s good to eat around here? I’m starving.”

“There’s a sushi place on the next block,” he says, pointing out the way.

Music, laughter, and loud conversation accompany our journey, but none of it comes from us. Miguel glances at me on occasion, and my chest flutters because the needy organ inside it likes when he looks at my lips.

Half the tables are full when we enter the restaurant and snag an empty booth. Traditional Japanese music plays in the background, low enough for diners to hold private conversations. It makes sense why Miguel chose this place, despite knowing I don’t like sushi. He’s always preferred quiet atmospheres to loud ones. Coffee shops, the seaside at dawn, an intimate gathering…he’s most comfortable when there’s not a big crowd. And I’m grateful for his choice because this wig has exacerbated the headache I’ve had all day.

After watching a pair of lovebirds snuggle together in one side of a booth, my gaze slides back to Miguel. He peruses the menu, more relaxed than he’s ever been in a restaurant with me. I realize the disguise is the reason he’s at ease. It’s fine. Whatever makes him less anxious works for me, but these itchy contact lenses need to go.

“I’m gonna pop into the bathroom and take these contacts out. Will you order for me?”

“Sure.” Switching his focus to the non-fishy entrées, he mutters, “Lose the mustache while you’re in there. You know I have sensitive skin.”

I freeze halfway out of the booth. Will he let me kiss him tonight? From the way he continues reading the menu, oblivious to what he implied, the chances are slim. But kissing him is the only thing on my mind as I barrel into the restroom and pluck the contacts from eyes.

As I lean toward the mirror, looking closely at my disguise, I smooth the mustache with my thumb and middle finger. Being with Miguel tonight required a team effort. When Carmen told me about the speed-dating event, I knew I’d be short on time once my flight landed. Maisy made some calls and traded favors on my behalf.

The car service dropped me off at home, where a special effects makeup artist named Anthem was waiting by the gate. While their partner battled traffic from the driver’s seat, Anthem transformed my face in the back. The mystery favor I owe Anthem will be worth it because they did a stellar job on my disguise. No one has recognized me, except Miguel.

No one recognizes me.

I gasp at the stranger in the reflection but don’t give him a second thought as I rush back to the table and slide into Miguel’s side of the booth. Panic flares in his eyes when I grab his hand, cutting off any protest before he can think of one.

“Let them look.”

“Don’t.” He tugs against my grip.

I tighten it, speaking with hushed urgency. “No one recognizes me, Miguel. We can do whatever we want tonight. Be whoever we want to be.” Bringing our hands to my lips, I quickly kiss each of his fingers as emotion clogs my throat. “We can be us…in public.”

His breath catches, an echo of mine from a minute ago. When the brown eyes I love so much begin to mist, I know he’s convinced to play along. He scoots closer, pressing right up against me, his body stiff as a board but connected.

“Why didn’t we think of using disguises like this before?”

My sharp laugh draws attention, and we duck our heads together. “Don’t ask me. You’re the brains and beauty behind this operation. I do as I’m told.”

He chuckles, melting into me. I wrap an arm around him and press my lips to his hair. The hand he slips under the table squeezes my thigh in response, and I pull him even closer, wishing the touches would never end.

When he speaks again, my neck muffles his voice. “And what if I told you to keep holding me until the night is over?”

“Then I’d say your wish is my command, because I have no intention of letting you go.”

Wednesday, January 25th

Me

The package will be ready for pickup tomorrow.

Carmen

Aye, aye, Captain!

I’m having lunch with him on Friday.

Me

Perfect. Thanks for the help.