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the refrigerator. "Do you want another drink? A snack?"

"What is there?" I asked. "And yes, another gin and tonic, please."

He opened the door wide and showed me—a couple of bottles of beer, and a container of hummus. "That's it, I guess."

"Are you calling beer a snack? That's a first, isn't it?"

"Well, it's got carbs and calories. Why can't it be a snack?" He lifted a bottle and slowly eyed the label. "They don't put any info on there so you won't feel guilty and stop drinking 'em."

"Nobody wants to feel guilty when they're getting drunk. Is there something to dip in the hummus?"

Jack opened a small cupboard, revealing another empty space, except for one thing: "Pita bread. It matches." He gave me a thumbs up.

Success.

My stomach grumbled, but obviously not loudly enough that he could hear it from his position. I'd have to use words to communicate. "Okay, I'm sold. Bring me food, please."

"Right away!"

He tossed the pitas and the hummus onto the couch beside me. "What the hell?" I yelled. "I'm not going to catch food."

"It's not even opened. You're safe. Plus, it's my furniture, and if I want to dump hummus all over it, I will dump hummus all over it."

I fiddled with the twist-tie on the pita bread. "I can't argue with that."

We sipped and ate, laughing constantly during the final moments of the flight. I felt so relaxed, so renewed. Our time together—and this vacation as a whole—was proving to be incredibly useful to my emotional state. I wasn't worrying, wasn't panicking about a damn thing.

"So what are doing here?" I asked. I was mid-bite on an abnormally large piece of pita, chomping until it became something I could actually swallow.

"Some business bullshit. I can take you along for almost everything, though. Maybe a cool party or something too." He had a look on his face that seemed to scream I have a secret. His subsequent quick grab for more pita to occupy his mouth seemed to suggest he was trying to hide a smile.

"Is there something else?" I asked curiously. I swallowed my gargantuan bite and then paused before grabbing more.

"It's a secret," he said promptly. "That means I can't tell you."

"Jack! Why'd you have to tell me at all then?" Knowing that something was coming would only make it worse since I didn't know what it was.

"My lips are sealed. You'll just have to wait."

I shook my head and laughed. Why the hell did I care so much, anyway? "Fine. I guess it'll be more fun that way, huh?"

"Last time I checked, that's how surprises work." He scooted toward me and gave me a hug, entirely impeding my ability to eat. "You'll really like it, I promise."

I rested my head against his chest. I thought of things I wanted to say but realized I probably shouldn't say them. Infatuation was back with a vengeance only like a bee sting this time—and my hand was still deep inside the nest.

***

Not long after that, we were strapped in and landing, pulling into a smaller runway for private planes at LAX. I couldn't believe how incredible the huge, sprawling city looked from the sky. It was breathtaking, especially with slowly setting sun.

We also managed to do the whole time-travel thing due to the time difference. This time, we won, but on the flight back, we'd lose.

"We're going to go to the hotel before dinner, okay?" Jack sat up and reached toward his suitcase. He missed, but his phone buzzed after re-gaining a signal and so he didn't try again immediately.

I nodded. I was thrilled to be here and willing to do almost anything. "Where are we staying?"

'The Hollywood Roosevelt," he said casually, his fingers tapping a text into his phone.

"Are you kidding? Seriously?" The hotel had such a huge history when it came to pop culture and celebrities.

He laughed at me. "I get a discount when I stay there. That's the primary reason why I do. They feature it all the time on those bullshit celebrity news sites as if a celebrity sighting is newsworthy." Jack put his phone into his pocket. "Any famous or successful person is good enough for them."

"If that's all you write about, then I guess it is newsworthy. Does that make me famous by association then?" I asked, my eyes gleaming.

Jack kissed my cheek."Prepare to sign autographs."

"I've been practicing my signature, so I'll be just fine, thanks." I gave Jack a cocky grin and then let him finish.

"Teddy's nightclub downstairs is a hot spot too. We can check it out. You'll probably see some famous people there."

My heart was racing almost as fast as the plane had been flying. I don't think I had ever been more giddy in my life. "Is that the surprise?" I asked again. "Staying somewhere like that?"

"No. It's something I planned just for you. Let's go." Jack stood up and successfully grabbed his suitcase this time. He took my hand and helped me to my feet.

I kept trying to figure out what it was, but convinced myself to let it go after we got out of the plane.

A limo was waiting for us, and so we obviously needed to keep moving. We hopped inside and Jack greeted the driver like they already knew each other. Honestly, they probably did since he used to live out here. Not surprisingly, the driver reminded me of Percy.

After departing the airport, I watched in utter fascination as the city rolled by as we traveled toward Hollywood Boulevard. Jack remained quiet, aware that I was overwhelmed by visual stimuli. I didn't even realize that I had fallen completely silent. I just kept staring and absorbing everything that happened to pass through my vision.

I hadn't been this excited in years. I had just been in New York City a few hours ago, and now I was rolling through West Hollywood in a limo. This was kind of like a dream vacation come true—with the hottest tour guide in the world.

We arrived

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