Hiding Out in Hollywood (Celebrity Love)

Chapter Seven

"Hi."

The single syllable was all Emily could think of to say. The expectant look in Cory's eyes told her he was waiting for something more. An awkward silence stretched for what seemed to her like hours. Finally, Cory spoke.

"I didn't realize you'd be here."

"Yep." She could have said the same for him, except it made sense for Cory to be at the roast—a lot more sense than it made for her to be here, if she thought about it. He was a well-known singer in a chart-topping rock band, after all. The music industry was his scene, not hers. She should have asked Wally about the guest list before she'd allowed him to coerce her into coming.

"You look great," he said.

She squinted at him, trying to decide if he was being sincere. There was no reason for him to be paying her compliments. The last time they were face to face, they had been at the Hotel Café, a small Hollywood music venue where Cory had put on a surprise solo show for his fans. Cory had asked Emily to come for his own self-serving reasons of getting media attention, and that's exactly what he had gotten—just not quite in the way he'd hoped for. While he'd given the performance of a lifetime, dedicating a song to Emily and asking her for a second chance at a relationship in front of the entire audience, she had also summoned every ounce of acting skill she possessed and had pretended to go along with him.

Then Emily went home and had gone public with the real story of what Cory and Jesse had put her through while they'd played their headline-making games. Cory had only been looking for extra media attention to help boost sales of his band's new album, and she'd played the player and had ended up with Wally Hood and a lot of other entertainment reporters on her side. She couldn't possibly be in Cory's good graces anymore, unless he was trading music for the sainthood.

Cory was still watching her, waiting for a response.

"Thanks," she said. She avoided meeting his eyes.

A waiter carrying a tray of champagne walked into her line of sight then. She raised her arm, hoping to flag him down. If there was ever a situation in her life that called for something to drink, this was it.

The waiter nodded at her and made a beeline to where she and Cory stood. She took a champagne flute from his tray and Cory did the same.

"Cheers," Cory said, raising his glass to her.

Emily pressed her lips together and half-heartedly raised her glass. She took her time taking a sip and swallowing, hoping a reason she had to be on the other side of the room would come to her fast.

Cory moved his crutches forward and scooted closer to Emily. She instinctively took a step back, bumping into someone's elbow.

"Sorry," she said, twisting her head so she could peer over her shoulder. The man behind her whose elbow she'd bumped into didn't seem to notice.

"Can we talk?"

Emily wished she could pretend that she hadn't heard Cory's question. Those had to be the three worst words in the English language, at least right now. She turned her head back to him.

"You're already talking," she replied, crossing her arms.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." He watched her for a moment. When she didn't say anything, he spoke again. "Why are you still mad at me?"

He can't be serious, she thought. If he was, then he was either the most clueless person in Hollywood, or the most self-absorbed. She had a few different answers for why she was mad, but she also knew rehashing the past wasn't worth it.