Not If I Date You First

Chapter 1

ADA

If I ever needed a good luck charm, it's today. Not only will I finally be chasing my dreams, but I'll be chasing stars too. Literally.

My fingers curl around the pendant of the necklace my grandmother left to me. It's shaped like the stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and has her name on it—Marylue Datchery. Grams got it when she auditioned for a movie in L.A. She didn't get the part, but she insisted the necklace was lucky anyway. It was the first thing I put on this morning.

I plop myself down at the counter of Jitters, my favorite coffee shop in the city, making the worn barstool wobble. Pulling out my Nikon, I check that the battery is fully charged for what must be the hundredth time before grabbing one of the celebrity magazines I picked up from the newsstand outside my family's brownstone in the East Village. The humidity from the swamp cooler makes the thin pages cling to my fingertips as I flick through it, trying to immerse myself in the glittering lives of the stars.

I pause when I find a spread of some truly breathtaking shots of Leo at his birthday party in Saint-Tropez. My gaze lingers on the photo credit line that runs along the centerfold. It lists the names of the photographers who took the pictures and the agencies they work for. I run a reverent finger over the ink. My own name is going to be there soon. It doesn't seem real, no matter how many times I pinch myself and feel the sting on my skin.

"Ada." Charlie, my best friend Elodie's boss and uncle, is meticulously wiping down the stainless steel countertop. He pauses long enough to give me a curt nod in greeting.

His dark mustache is combed neatly, as perfectly straight as the name tag he's wearing that reads, 'Charlie Chastain.' I haven't seen Elodie wear hers in months, and even then, it just had Els scribbled across it. Sometimes it's hard to believe they're related. If Elodie's a caramel double shot latte with extra whip, Charlie's a cup of black coffee, no sugar, no milk.

"Morning, Charlie."

"So, you're joining the workforce, huh?"

"Today's my first day."

"Yeah, pretty sure all of Greenwich Village has heard about it by now." Charlie juts his chin toward Elodie, who's at the register, taking an order.

Els was born ten cups of coffee ahead of the rest of us. To say she's energetic and chatty would be an understatement. I'm sure all of her regulars know about my summer internship, which might be embarrassing if Elodie wasn't the most supportive bestie in the history of besties.

"Are you sure you want black coffee?" Els asks the woman she's helping, scrunching up her nose. "I could make you this amazing egg yolk coffee. It has whipped eggs and condensed milk. It's super creamy and totally to die for."

"Um, no, thank you?" The woman looks at Elodie like she's sprouted tentacles.

"Really? Because—"

"Elodie," Charlie groans. "Just get her the coffee."

"Fine." Els huffs a breath through her nose and grabs a to-go cup as another barista hurries forward to help the next customer. Elodie's training to compete in the World Barista Championships and some of the drinks she experiments with can get a little adventurous. Charlie's patient with her, all things considered.

Charlie keeps one eye on Elodie as he turns back to me. "So, where exactly are you working? Elodie keeps babbling about some photography thing."

"The Huntley Agency." I squeal, clapping my hands together excitedly.

He blinks at me like my energy level baffles him. "You girls should really consider switching to decaf." He flicks a non-existent speck of dust from one of the industrial lights that hang above the bar. "What's the Huntley Agency anyway?"