I make a show of looking at my watch. “I don’t mean to be nosy—”

“I find that hard to believe,” she interrupts in a mumble.

“—but don’t you have a job?”

“I do,” she says, more to the screen than to me. Her eyes are still down and the little pendant she wears swings ever so slightly with each of her exhales. It’s too easy to remember how she looked on her back, nothing but that necklace resting above her breastbone and my rope around her—

Focus, Finn.

“Then shouldn’t you be in an office, or out with ladies who lunch?”

She makes a show of closing her laptop slowly. “Not today.”

“Why?”

She’s definitely growing irritated with my questions, which—let’s be honest—only makes me more curious. “Because I don’t work today. My mom isn’t feeling well. I was just looking some stuff up.”

“So when you work, what exactly do you do?” I ask.

“I’m an intern at NBC.”

I make another show of looking at my watch—more dramatically this time—at the fact that it’s one twenty in the afternoon on a Tuesday, and she’s sitting in a pizza place staring at a laptop and playing on her phone.

“Part-time,” she clarifies, adding, “I work about twelve hours a week.” Twelve? At my less than impressed expression she throws in, “What?”

“Unpaid?”

“In-tern?” she says, as if saying the word more slowly will help me understand. “I want to work in the film industry but you have to start somewhere, and NBC is local.”

“I see. So you, like, get coffee and stuff.”

“Occasionally.”

“Doesn’t that bug you? You’re the kid of a famous actress and a big Hollywood guy, and yet they make you the lowly coffee girl?”

I’m only partly serious. I mean I am curious, but in truth, she’s just really fun to wind up.

“That’s not all I do,” she says, and then reconsiders, smiling at me with surprising self-deprecation. “Actually, yeah, they love to make me do the grunt work because of who my dad is. I’ve worked on his sets for as long as I can remember, and probably know more about how movies are made than most of the people I work under now. But Dad always told me my first lesson in work should be how to earn respect through humility, so I guess that’s what I’m doing here. It won’t always be this way.”

Huh. Wasn’t expecting that. And it’s a little disquieting how much it sounds like something my own dad would say. “So you went to college and majored in... ?”

“Communications.”

“Communications, ah. What is that, like majoring in Twitter and Facebook?”

She purses her lips playfully studying me. “You’ve heard of Twitter?”

I consider flipping her off for this.