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the edge of the restaurant, hidden discreetly behind a palm tree. She’s the kind of girl you see in all those Roxy ads. Tan, tall, slim, and blond. I’m sure she surfs in the mornings, models during the day, and works here at night. If the acting thing fails, this sounds like a pretty good life. Minus the modeling.
    “So I’m thinking of staying put this weekend.” Rainer reclines in his chair and slips his arm casually over the back of mine. We’re sitting corner to corner at a four-top, but Rainer has sat so close to me we’re practically side by side. Next to us, two girls out with their parents audibly swoon.
    It’s never easy to forget he’s famous.
    “Yeah?” I say, pulling apart a roll.
    Rainer has been jetting back and forth to L.A. pretty much every weekend. Now I think it’s probably to see Britney, but I haven’t asked.
    He takes a sip of water, keeping his eyes down. “Yeah.I just figure I haven’t really even been here. What am I running off for?”
    “Britney?” I offer, and immediately regret saying it out loud.
    Rainer frowns. “What do you mean?”
    I imagine responding, “You want to make sure that your girlfriend isn’t hooking up with Hollywood bad boy Jordan Wilder, right?”
    Then I say, “Tabloids,” when what I really mean is “Lillianna.” I’ve heard about Jordan Wilder from Cassandra before, too. Bad news.
    Rainer looks amused. “You read those?”
    “Er, no, not exactly.” I can feel my face start to get hot.
    “It’s okay.” Rainer puts his hand on my bare shoulder. It feels soft and warm.
    “I don’t read tabloids.” I exhale. “I probably should, because maybe then I’d know who people are, but I don’t. My best friend used to fill me in.” Normally I would have brought up Lillianna’s comment with Cassandra, but I haven’t had time. “Lillianna mentioned someone named Britney. It’s not important.…” I’m rambling, I can tell, but it’s hard to stop. The way he’s looking at me—a combination of interest and confusion—is making me nervous.
    Rainer clears his throat and retracts his hand. “We’re not dating. We were but not anymore.”
    “Oh.”
    Rainer smiles. “How about you?”
    “Britney isn’t really my type,” I say.
    Rainer laughs. “Funny.”
    “I try.”
    He leans closer to me. “Anyone back home?”
    I think about Jake, probably picketing some animal shelter or a Barnes & Noble right about now. “No.”
    “Really? You?”
    “Surprisingly, yes, this doesn’t make them come running.” I hold up some stringy strands of hair, and sand immediately cascades down into my lap.
    “You’re a movie star, haven’t you heard?” he says. His blue eyes sparkle. There is one movie star at the table, and it definitely isn’t me.
    “I’m an
actress
,” I correct.
    “In our position, sweetheart, it’s the same thing.”
    I try not to let it affect me, I do, but the way he says
sweetheart
makes the nerves in my stomach begin to vibrate.
    Rainer sits back and smiles. “So, what are you having?”
    I notice the calm charm with which he talks to the waiter, the way he stands up and untucks my chair when I come back from the restroom, the way he smiles and makes light conversation when a mother and daughter come over to our table asking for his autograph. He’stotally comfortable with it. More than that: He actually seems to like it.
    “You get used to it,” he says, cutting his salmon. “It’s a little invasive sometimes, but it’s also really flattering. It means they love what you do.”
    I don’t have the heart to tell him that after today, I’m not sure anyone is going to love what I do.
    “It’s going to get better,” he says as if reading my mind. “You can’t let Wyatt get to you.”
    “You’re right,” I say.
    He puts his elbows on the table, bending his head close to mine. “So, will you tour me around this weekend or are you going to make me beg?”
    I swallow. “Doesn’t your family have a house