Falling Out of Hate with You (The Hate-Love Duet #1) - Lauren Rowe Page 0,1

are far too many of them in this world, and, certainly, at this party, and I’m far too good at getting whoever I want, to chase after someone who’s caught the eye of one of my best friends. Especially when I barely know the woman in question.

I’d call my general mindset in this regard “bros before hoes” or “dicks before chicks,” if our bandmate, Ruby, not to mention, my cousin, Sasha, hadn’t both made a thing about the words “ho” and “chick” being derogatory. So, maybe “brovaries before ovaries” would be the better bet? The point is that I always respect The Dibs. Although, in this instance, Kai probably shouldn’t pursue the reporter, anyway. Not because I want her. But because I’ve surmised there are extenuating circumstances.

I reply to Kai, “You never need to ‘call dibs’ with me. Just tell me you’re in hot pursuit and that’s that. But I think you’re gonna need to set your sights on someone else this time, brother. When I played ping pong with Georgina earlier to talk about my interview, I got the solid vibe she’s already with Reed. Or if not, she’s definitely at the top of his To Do List.”

“Reed?” Kai bellows, like that’s a preposterous notion. Like every woman at this party wouldn’t give her left tit to get with Reed. The guy with the big house, the fit body, the garage full of sports cars, and a bank account that puts every band member here to shame. But, whatever. My bandmates and I are drinking and having fun tonight, and roasting the bastard who takes way too big a cut of our royalties, thanks to the shitty contract we signed as puppies, before Eli started repping us, is one of our favorite drinking games.

Titus and Kai continue roasting Reed for a bit. And as they banter, I reach for my phone when it buzzes in my pocket. I wouldn’t normally check my phone at a party. But only my inner circle has this particular number, and almost all of them are here tonight.

When I check my screen, it’s a text from my cousin, Sasha, as suspected, regarding our grandma.

Sasha: Are you available to FaceTime, by any chance? Mimi had a nightmare you died in a plane crash. She wants to see your face.

Me: Can’t FT. I’m at a noisy party and kinda drunk. How about a quick video?

Sasha: Awesome.

I shoot a brief selfie video in which I smile, make silly faces, and blow kisses to my grandma amid the noisy throng around me. And after I press send, Sasha quickly replies in all caps.

Sasha: IS THAT ISABEL RANDOLPH BEHIND YOU?!?

I turn around, and, I’ll be damned, one of the most famous movie stars on the planet is standing directly behind me, chatting with a group of suits I don’t recognize.

Me: It is, indeed.

Sasha: HOLY SHIT. Do you know her?

Me: Nope.

Sasha: Go meet her and send me a photo for my birffday! Pleeeeease!

Me: Your birthday isn’t for two months. But more importantly, doing that for you would require me to speak to a new person, which, as you know, I try to avoid at all costs.

Sasha: Why do you go to so many parties, if you hate talking to new people so much?

Me: Because I like talking to MY people while surrounded by new people I can gawk at but NOT talk to. Especially tonight, when we’re celebrating KC’s bday.

Sasha: Aw, wish KC happy birthday for me! Have you performed a birthday dare for him yet?

Me: Not yet. He’s still deciding what brand of humiliation to inflict upon me.

Sasha: LOL. Don’t do anything dangerous.

Me: It’s always all in good fun. Give Mimi a hug for me.

Sasha: Already did. She loves the video. Says she loves you and stay safe.

Me: Love her, too, and you. Tell her I’m fine and mostly traveling by bus on the next leg of the tour.

Sasha: Will do. Goodnight. Have a blast.

My cousin is being sincere when she tells me to have fun. But I can’t help feeling guilty she’s there on a Saturday night, hanging out with our grandma and one of the nighttime caregivers I’ve bankrolled, while I’m at a star-studded party in LA. Not to mention that Sasha works hard at a real job in Chicago—she’s a massage therapist—while I traipse around the world and swoop into town for occasional visits, whenever convenient, like I’m Weekend Daddy after a divorce.

Sasha always says she wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s ten years my