Given that I wasn’t going to see him again, as the Academy Awards was the last show in Hollywood’s awards season, there was no point in destroying tonight. Maybe it was selfish, but I wanted this memory to be a shiny one.

“My best friend is a big fan of his and I’ve seen a couple of his movies. Plus, he’s pretty famous.”

A disgruntled look crossed Noah’s features. “Yes, it’s amazing how successful he’s become with all of his obvious physical disadvantages.”

I couldn’t help myself; I laughed. “Yeah, okay, pot.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What did you call me?”

“I said you are the pot and Chase Covington would be the kettle in your he-got-ahead-because-of-his-good-looks claim.”

“Come on,” he said. “I know how I look.”

“And how’s that?” I asked, genuinely curious, given his self-deprecating tone.

“I’ve always been a little goofy-looking—”

“Goofy-looking?” I repeated, slamming my hand against the armrest between us. “What inbred, nearsighted, and totally-lacking-any-semblance-of-taste idiot told you that you were goofy-looking?”

Was this even possible? Did Noah Douglas really not know how deeply, primally attractive he was? I mean, when he was younger, he was definitely ganglier and had braces like the rest of us. He hadn’t grown into himself yet. But now he had and it was some very excellent maturing that had taken place on his part.

Even if he had been a little goofy-looking once upon a time, I’d still idol worshipped him.

“That’s good to know,” he said.

“What is?” The fact that I thought he was hot? Wasn’t that just, like, common knowledge?

But he changed the subject on me. “Chase Covington is just . . . a blonder, nicer version of me.”

I heard the unspoken dig in his voice. “By nicer did you mean less talented?”

His eyes crinkled with a smile. “I would never say that.”

“But you’d think it.”

“Possibly.”

Now it was my turn to smile. I’d never imagined Noah Douglas to be this relaxed, enjoying-himself kind of person. He seemed to be all intensity, all the time. Grumpy, even. “Now it’s my turn to be surprised.”

“By what?”

“You. I thought you were more . . . I don’t know, one of those Method type of actors who takes himself way too seriously and thinks the world revolves around him. I wouldn’t have ever guessed that you could be . . . chill. Or that you’d be into gossip.”

“I am not into gossip.”

Now I was confused. “Then why have we been doing that for the last half hour?”

Despite me calling him chill, the fiery intensity in his eyes was anything but. “Because you like it.”