“Of course they are, Xander.”

“No one’s making you uncomfortable or pushing shit too far⁠—”

“No,” I tell him, and then I repeat it to make sure he hears me. “No. I just…”

Foster bounces up the steps, roughing up his dark hair. He has on low-slung sweats and a sleeveless shirt despite the chill outside. I’ve detached from the world, even before he looks up and pauses. Suddenly it’s all noise and blurry edges, other than the path between us.

Outside of a mic pack handoff and the required words for filming, we barely even exchanged glances since last week. We definitely haven’t been alone. For good reason since two seconds in and all I can think about is coming on his hand. How right it felt with him looking at me like he did once upon a time.

What happened after creeps in then. The coldness in his eyes and dead tone when he walked out, leaving me with his pirate mask and emotional whiplash.

“Rem? You good?” Xander asks.

The sound of his voice has the iciness seeping into Foster again, his nostrils flaring.

“Yeah,” I say, experiencing a chilling of my own.

I jerk my gaze back to my phone, forcing it to stay there when Foster storms past.

Xander sighs. “You have no idea how much I miss you.”

He smiles and drags his teeth over his bottom lip. It reminds me of the last night we went out and the next morning when I was the goal.

My attention shifts to the picture-in-picture, where I can see Foster stopped behind me, gripping the curtain, then he disappears through it.

“I need to go.” I flash a smile at Xander, but it falls flat. “A baby sprinkle’s like a shower but less about necessities. Pick some mocktails you can make baby puns with and always choose the most bougie option. Jasmine will love it, and you’ll earn an extra toleration point with Heath. Good luck.”

I end the call before he can respond, tossing my phone next to my camera at the end of the couch. I’m on my feet by the time the curtain rips back a second later. Foster comes out, but I block his path to the exit, forcing him to a stop.

“Move,” he grits out.

“Not until we talk.”

His eyes remain locked with mine. “It seems to me you already have someone to talk to. The wannabe boyfriend, right? Your rock god.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks as he refers to Xander’s text from Halloween.

I can be your rock god, baby.

My gaze lowers to the floor. “He’s not … Xander’s my roommate.” When he doesn’t answer, I glance up. “He was making a joke about the half-built baby crib behind him. Heath made him bail on a party to put it together since he’s covering for me while I’m here.”