I'm a little perturbed by how perturbed I am.

Trace doesn't get it and keeps telling me to snap out of it, like anybody can just click their fingers and stop feeling a certain way. He doesn't get it; but that's probably because my explanation wasn't exactly the fullest ever. We talked about my depression and why I went to Adora, but I don't think he ever really got the extent of it. Again, that might be because I underplayed things, but it was difficult enough having that conversation with my mother who's a lot more perceptive and persistent. He'd have to be an idiot to miss my reaction on seeing Addy in that restaurant, but once again I managed to play it down. I haven't lied to him about anything, I wouldn't, but there's stuff that remains unsaid and unless he gets it into his head to ask directly, it'll stay that way.

First of all, it was a shock to see her. I don't just mean that in the obvious 'what the hell are you doing here' way, though there was a lot of that too. Maybe she decided to do LA instead of NYC for that teacher exchange thing after all? She didn't exactly seem keen on LA… whatever, I can't say I care. The fact is that she's here and that's weird enough in itself; in my head she belongs on a Mediterranean beach in her bikini with sun block and sand clinging to her. What got me first though wasn't so much that she was here, it was how different she looks. The Addy I knew was tanned, smiling, bare-faced and relaxed. If it was possible to be any more laid back than horizontal, she would be. The Addy in that restaurant was wearing make up - not just a little lip gloss, but a full face of make up. Her hair was coiffed instead of flying around her face in the wind, and she was all dressed up like she meant business.

"How long is this likely to take?" Rachael asks, snapping me from my reverie.

"Hopefully not long," Trace replies. He's driving and I'm riding shotgun, staring out of the window without really taking in any of the scenery. "We just go in, drop off the documents and while we're there see if we can bump up our meeting."

"Yeah, remind me why we're doing this instead of a courier and one of those staff we pay to call people for us?" I ask.

"Because we happened to be headed this way, it's cheaper and it's not so easy to bullshit people about there being no gaps in the schedule when they ain't in front of you."

"Or maybe you're just an anal retentive control freak who has to do shit the hard way."

Trace starts cussing her out for that and I just grin. Rachael is so right it's not even funny. Well, it is, but you get me. They even succeeded in taking my mind off of Addy for thirty seconds. It's not like I've been obsessing for the last few days, but I saw my surfboard in the garage this morning and it brought her to mind.

She looked uptight, too. Even before Addy realised I was looking at her and her expression went all hard and scary, she looked tense. Even in our heart to heart moments when she was talking about shit she'd been through or that was worrying her, she never looked so wound up. That's what really kills me, that scary expression on her face. I was just getting over the shock and about to head to her table for a delighted reunion (because my ass was happy to see her) when she gave me the death bitch glare and turned her back on me. She turned her fucking back on me. If there hadn't been an audience of gawking diners I would have marched over there anyway, but while I don't mind witnesses to a nice little catch up I am not dumb enough to let my adoring public see me get bitched out or ignored or whatever. That's a gossip columnist's dream, some mystery woman giving Mr Hollywood the big brush off.

Three days later, and I've pretty much worked out that she must have realised I'm famous by now. It'd be hard not to see some article about me somewhere, we are in paparazzi central.

Since this is the only thing that could have changed since the last time I saw her, I'm thinking that's why she's pissed. Which seems pretty unreasonable to me, the more I think about it. Okay, I lied, but it was one lie and in context it's a pretty understandable one. It can't take much to see why a celebrity if given the chance might fail to mention his fame and riches to some total strangers he's never met before. People always assume they could handle it and be blasé about it, but whether they realise it or not the second they find out they treat you differently and you can see it. Some manage to stay cooler than others but with all of them there's still that little extra attentiveness, agreeing with you more than anybody else, kissing up to you just that little bit.

"Hello?" Trace waves a hand in front of my face. "Earth to Butthead, are you listening?"

"Nope." I yank my cap down over my eyes and purposely ignore whatever expression he may be pulling or finger he might be flipping.

"Fine, your loss."

"Not much of a loss. I could definitely go without hearing that you can't keep it up ever again. Just get the bitch a vibrator and stop whining."

I burst out laughing, Trace bursts out swearing, and Rachael just grins evilly. I can see her in the mirror. "Rach, babe, I love you," I tell her.

"Who could blame you?"

"You're both brain damaged, both of you." Trace mutters.

"Oh lighten up," I tell him.

"This coming from Mr 'I'm Sulking Because Some Ho I Met Last Year Doesn't Wanna Know," he snorts loudly. "Not exactly Mary Fucking Sunshine, are ya pal?"

Fuck, I'll be truthful, he's not wrong. I have been kind of pissed. He's massively exaggerating, it really only was this morning that it's been on my mind, but he's not entirely off base.

I'm pissed because the second I saw her I thought maybe I'd get to show her how much better I've got since she last saw me. I'd idly daydreamed about the notion once or twice, so the idea of making it a reality was great until she and that icy glower of hers burst my bubble. Hell, I didn't think she had it in her to look that fucking evil. I was kind of scared of her, which is the other reason I didn't risk trying to say hello anyway. My ego while healthier than it was isn't exactly invincible (no matter what certain gossip bloggers will try to tell you). She just… she was such a big part of my little psychological break through that in a weird way, I kind of wanted her approval or congratulations or something.

It's pathetic to want validation from some summer fling you only knew for a couple of months, but I'll admit it.

It shouldn't bother me so much and I'm kind of annoyed with myself for letting it. It is pathetic, she was just a summer fling, and it wasn't like I wanted to rush over there and immediately resume it. In all honesty she doesn't look so hot right now, when somebody's clearly so uptight it's not attractive. Her hair doesn't look so cute scraped back like that and she doesn't need the war paint either, she looked better without it. It's not even like I suddenly wanted us to be best pals; I only thought it'd be cool to meet her for a drink sometime and catch up. I could get this stupid need for approval out of my system and she could tell me about her travels, since she's finally taken my advice and got off that island for a while. It would have been a nice way to round that whole episode off, you know? A quick epilogue to see we're both doing good and maybe get a number to send the odd 'hi' text once in a while. That would have been cool.

Ugh, fuck it; I need to stop thinking about it. Trace says it's just my narcissistic need to be liked by everyone that's making me sweat this, not any care for the woman herself. There may be something to that, except for that dumb ass narcissistic part. If she wants to be angry about last summer she can be angry, it's not my problem. I have no regrets.

Well, no regrets except trying squid. That shit was rubbery.

***

"No woman, I'm telling you, she's booked solid."

"But I definitely scheduled it in her diary!"

"Clearly you didn't because I'm staring at it and it's booked solid with meetings that aren't with you," says an really exasperated British voice. I can't fucking believe it.

"Are you calling me a liar?"

There's some chick in a pencil skirt standing in front of a reception desk with her arms folded. She's glaring at Addy who is sat back in her chair glaring back with just as much gusto. Of all the fashion houses in all the world she just happens to work for the one I'm trying to get on board for a diffusion line? What are the odds? This shit only happens in movies; it's way too coincidental.

"I am stating a fact - your meeting is not scheduled in her diary. Infer from that what you will but stop standing there like this is my fault or I can do something about, because it's not and I can't. I also have about a zillion phone calls that you're keeping me from."

Trace leans into me and in a low whisper asks me the question. "Dude, am I dreaming or is that the chick from the restaurant."

"I wish you were dreaming," I mutter back. I'm not enjoying Addy in LA. Maybe less than three minutes is too little to judge, but LA Addy seems like kind of a bitch.

"I thought you said this chick was really chill?" He says incredulously. "She looks like she's got a major stick up her ass."

"Well it wasn't there when I left," I whisper back with a shrug. Rachael is just rolling her eyes at the pair of us, but she's crabby anyway because she thinks this little errand is a waste of time. I can't say I disagree with her but hey, I had nothing better to do.

The lady who can't schedule meetings flounces off in an obvious huff (the effect is ruined by her stilettos which are so tall they make her stride really short - she's waddling) and Addy immediately presses a button on her phone and starts talking. She's got a really expensive looking wireless headset on. From the way those two were talking to each other I don't think either of them noticed they had visitors and it's not exactly a great impression to make. Addy still hasn't realised, I don't think.

"Sorry Tess, Nancy was just being a moron again. Yeah, whining about Elena not turning up to a meeting that's not in her diary. I might have been nicer about it if I wasn't already busy as hell… so yeah, cars for Maria and Stefano, I need to book flights for you and David and book a meeting space for the Bloomingdales pitch on the 15th, right?"

There's a bunch of assenting noises as she listens to whatever this Tess person is saying and much scribbling of notes. Her brow is furrowed in creases that I don't remember seeing once on Adora. The woman looks stressed, no other word for it. Her make up isn't quite hiding some dark smudges under her eyes and her shoulders have hunched a little. It's hard to equate this woman to the one I knew, yet I know they are one and the same. I guess it goes to show that no matter how hard and fast you click with someone, it takes a long while to get to know them properly. I'd never have guessed she could ever be like this.

She hangs up and would have immediately gone to make another call if Rachael hadn't stepped forward and said 'hi.'

"Hi, I'm sorry I didn't see you there." Props to her, she seems unembarrassed by what we heard and by the fact that she's clocked my presence. "What can I do for you?"

"Hi, I'm Trace Ayala for William Rast," he steps forward and goes into business mode. "We're just dropping off the proposal for Dan."

"Great, thanks." Addy takes it from him and immediately stashes it in a neatly labelled cubicle. Funnily enough, it has Dan's name on it. That would make sense. "Dan's not actually in the office right now, did you have an appointment?"

"No, no," Trace says waving a hand. "But we do have a meeting set up with Elena that I was hoping we could pull forward?"

Addy shakes her head. "Sorry, but she's booked solid. Next available appointment is probably later than the one you already got."

Trace gives her the date and a really crappy attempt at a charming smile, but politely she runs through the diary anyway. She's avoiding my eye completely, but at least that's an improvement from the bitch glare. Rachael stares at me curiously wondering why I'm staring, but I'll tell her later. If I can muster the inclination, that is. It's just weird to see her go from so bitchy to so clinical. Even in my own thoughts I sound like a broken record, but I just cannot believe this is the same chick who dared me to kiss her in a lightning storm and who laughed at me because I was afraid of a spider (a huge fucking ass spider, I might add).

"Okay, okay, I give in, you're right." Wow, she got the annoyingly persistent Ayala to cave. Impressive. "But this thing is still on for Thursday night, right?"

That was a definite look passing over her face. She had no idea we'd be going, and I'm guessing the discomfort means she will be too. Seriously, coincidences like this just do not happen. "Yes it is. Tickets are going out by courier tomorrow so your offices should get them by three, latest."

"Great, thanks," Trace says. "And also can you point me at a bathroom?"

"Down the hall and to your right. Can't miss it." She points with a wry smile.

"Ladies' room down there too?" Rachael asks.

"Yep."

It's not until Rachael starts walking after Trace that I realise this leaves me alone with Addy. He had better not have done that on purpose, the little bastard, or he's in for some pain. She ignores me, naturally, typing away with alarming speed and occasionally tutting when she reads something she dislikes. I can only see her top half, clad in a crisp white shirt with her hair straightened and pulled back in a pony tail. It's a far cry from her past bed head look. Contrary to what girls think, sometimes less is more on the styling front.

"If you're going to stare at something please stare at something that isn't me," she says dryly and without turning her head from whatever she's typing.

"Oh, umm, sorry." Was it just my hearing or did I stutter a little. "It's just weird seeing you; you're supposed to be in Adora."

"And you're supposed to be in a bank but am I gawking?"

Oh yeah, she's definitely pissed about the occupation thing. That sarcasm which used to be affectionate is now out to cut. Lucky for her (or more for me I guess) I have a thick hide - you need one in my line of work.

"Yeah. Sorry about that but… well, you know the shit that was going on, it was kind of nice not to be famous for a while. Took the pressure off."

"I'm not sure I do know. Apparently you're not averse to lying so I'm not sure I can trust anything that comes out of your mouth."

Fuck lady - bitter much? Again she surprises me, because I didn't think she'd care. After all, she was the one who was all 'I don't get involved, we move on at the end of the summer.'

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything. But I swear that was the only detail I changed. Everything else I told you was Gospel truth, promise."

Addy bristles defensively. "You didn't hurt my feelings. I'm just a little annoyed, is all. Not fond of liars."

Clearly this is totally bogus because otherwise she wouldn't give a shit, but I am not stupid enough to voice such things out loud to a woman. It's on the same level of stupid as asking if it's that time of the month when she's pissed, you have to be a real dumb ass to go there. The safer course is to take the conciliatory approach rather than actually start spitting out truths or pointing out any overreactions. That's the way to earn yourself a night on the sofa and at least a week in the doghouse.

"I'm sorry," I repeat again. "If it's any consolation, it was great to see you until you gave me the death glare."

I think that twitch in her cheek meant she was trying not to smile. "Not helping yourself here."

"No, really," I press. "It was a shock, obviously, but it's cool you finally got to travel, like you said… but how come you're not teaching?"

You see what I did there? Reminded her how attentive and helpful I was with the advice? The ice is starting to melt; I can see it in her eyes. Brown eyes can look just as frosty as blue ones - you wouldn't think so, but they can. "They didn't have a place in NYC for me but Lily got an internship here and they happened to need bilingual office staff."

"Right, because Elena's backers are in Spain?" I ask. She nods.

"So… mega pop star, huh?"

I wince a little. "Yeah. Again, sorry about that."

"Ahh… I'll get over it," she says grudgingly. "Just a bit of a shock to open up a magazine and see your surf buddy's some sex symbol or whatever. You're just lucky I didn't call the Enquirer."

"For which I am insanely grateful." I mean every word of that. Most of the time if you read shit about me sexing some girl on a beach or on a roof it'll be a pack of lies dreamed up by some wannabe model with fake tits, but Addy would be telling the truth. That's far more dangerous than any shit somebody wanted to make up. "So it looks like they keep you pretty busy."

"Slammed, it's pretty non stop around here. Bit of a culture shock to say the least."

Trace turns the corner, and Rachael is right behind. I think a swift exit now before I say or do anything else to put my foot in my mouth is a good idea. If it spends any longer in there it's going to have to set up a forwarding address. "So you going to this charity thing?"

"Unfortunately I have to work it," she groans. "Laugh a minute, that'll be."

"Well…" God help me, for I'm about to push my luck. "If I buy you a drink to keep you going is it going to get thrown in my face?"

She still looks to be considering that a little too seriously for my liking, but with a long suffering expression she shakes her head and says "I suppose not."

"See you there then."

With a small smile I say a quick 'bye' and head out. Trace and Rachael take the hint and do the same, although from the nosy looks on their faces I know I'm going to get grilled about this in the car. I bet the little asshole left me alone with her on purpose. Meddling idiot - I don't care if it helped he needs to mind his damn business.

Still, at least she doesn't totally hate me. Safe in that knowledge I think I'll spend the afternoon with less Addison on the brain than I did this morning.