The Crush List

The sun had dipped behind the ocean, casting soft orange shadows across the windows of The Driftwood Tavern. It was a local staple—weathered wood, nautical decor, and an old jukebox in the corner that still worked when it felt like it. Emery arrived a few minutes early, out of habit more than punctuality. Her heels clicked softly on the wooden floor as she walked in, her nerves bundled tight under her soft cardigan and pale blue dress. Her father always picked this place for catch-ups when he was in town. It was comfortable, familiar. She assumed tonight would be the same. Until she saw him. Cal Donovon. Sitting at the table with her father, drink in hand, that signature smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he laughed at something Grant had just said. Emery stopped in her tracks. He looked exactly how she remembered—and nothing like she remembered at all. Older, broader, a little rougher around the edges, with hints of silver in his dark hair and that lazy, lived-in charm that had made women fall for him since he was twenty-one. In jeans and a white button-down rolled at the sleeves, he looked more like a man you ran into at the marina, not the star who graced movie posters in Times Square. He spotted her. His eyes lit up—dark, bright, unreadable. “Is that little Emery Blake?” he called out, rising from his chair. Her father stood too, grinning. “Em, look who I dragged to town.” Cal stepped forward, arms opening slightly in what should have been a casual hug, but when Emery stepped into it, her breath hitched. He smelled like cedarwood and salt and something expensive. His hand lingered on her back a beat too long. “Wow,” he murmured near her ear. “You grew up.” She pulled back, cheeks flushing. “You’re taller than I remember.” He chuckled, easing back into his seat with a lazy grace. “You used to reach my elbow, so I’ll take that as a compliment.” She slid into the chair across from him, heart racing. “Didn’t expect to have dinner with Hollywood royalty tonight.” “And I didn’t expect you to be... you,” he said, almost thoughtfully. Her father cleared his throat with a smile. “Cal just wrapped filming in London. Thought he could use a break. Told him you were in town too, Em.” Emery sipped her water, avoiding Cal’s gaze. “I’m... figuring things out.” “Well,” Cal leaned back, eyes resting on her like she was something worth studying, “maybe I can help with that.” She looked up, startled. Her dad just smiled knowingly, waving the waiter over. Grant’s phone buzzed halfway through the appetizer—a quiet vibration against the wood of the table. He glanced down, sighed, then looked apologetically between them. “Of course,” Emery muttered under her breath with a smile. He stood, brushing his napkin off his lap. “I’m really sorry. One of my clients just threw himself into a legal disaster. Again.” His tone was dry, but Emery knew the signs—he wouldn’t be back tonight. “You two don’t need me,” he added casually. “Catch up. Cal’s practically family.” Cal leaned back in his chair, relaxed. “We’ll hold down the fort.” Emery raised a brow at her dad. “This wasn’t a setup, was it?” Grant chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Not everything is a conspiracy, sweetheart.” And with that, he was gone—leaving her alone with Cal Hartley and a half-finished glass of iced tea she suddenly wasn’t sure she could hold without her hands shaking. The silence was brief but thick. She reached for her fork, trying not to glance at him too often. “So... how long are you in town?” Cal tilted his glass toward her. “Long enough to get some clarity. Maybe longer if I find a reason to stay.” “Right,” she murmured. “After everything, I guess a slower pace sounds nice.” His gaze was steady. “You mean after the divorce?” Emery froze slightly, caught. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to bring that up.” He shrugged, not offended. “It’s fine. People don’t usually talk about it to my face, which is worse, honestly. So thank you for being real.” “I wasn’t trying to be,” she said, flustered. “I mean, I’m not—ugh. I’m not good at this kind of thing.” “You’re better at it than most.” She laughed nervously, looking down at her plate. “You probably have, like... models and actresses throwing themselves at you. I don’t even know how to talk to someone like you.” His voice was low, steady. “You just did.” When she looked up, he was watching her again with that same calm intensity—like he saw right through the wall she was building and wasn’t intimidated by it. “I haven’t been back here in years,” he continued, “but I remember you used to read books behind your dad’s desk and hide from your brother’s football games. And now here you are, sitting across from me, looking like someone who has the whole world holding its breath.” Her eyes widened. “That’s... dramatic.” He grinned. “I’m in the business of drama.” She shook her head with a quiet laugh, trying to hide the warmth in her cheeks. “You’re ridiculous.” “Maybe,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “but you’re not out of your league, Emery. Not even close.” The waiter reappeared to ask about dessert, but neither of them moved to answer right away. They passed on dessert. The air between them felt too fragile for anything heavy. The clink of silverware and soft murmur of the restaurant filled the silence while Emery toyed with the edge of her linen napkin, folding and unfolding the corner without thinking. Cal watched her, his elbow resting on the table, posture casual but attentive. “You’ve got that look,” he said after a beat. She glanced up. “What look?” “The one that says your brain is loud but your mouth’s trying to keep the peace.” She laughed under her breath. “Is it that obvious?” “To me?” He tilted his head, smiling gently. “Yeah. A little.” Emery looked away, then back at him. There was something about Cal that disarmed her. Maybe it was the calm way he listened. Or maybe it was that, despite his fame, his attention didn’t feel performative—it felt real. “I just…” she started, then paused. “I feel like I’m supposed to have a plan, you know?” He didn’t say anything, just nodded for her to go on. “I graduated top of my class. I did everything right. And I thought… I thought I had a clear idea of what came next. But somewhere along the way, my future started revolving around him—my ex. Grad school in his city, internships near his job offers. And then he ended things. Just like that. And now…” Her voice trailed off. She looked up at him, vulnerable and frustrated. “Now I don’t know who I am outside of what I was building for us. I feel like I’ve been driving a car with a GPS that just turned to static.” Cal’s expression softened. “That’s heavy.” She gave a self-conscious shrug. “Sorry. That was a lot.” “No, Emery.” His voice was firm, sincere. “That was honest. And brave. Don’t downplay that.” He leaned in just a bit, his tone gentler. “You’re twenty-two. You’re not supposed to have it all figured out. Anyone who says they do is either lying or hiding from something.” “I just feel like I’m behind,” she said quietly. “Everyone’s already moving forward.” “You’re not behind,” he said. “You’re unwritten. That’s different.” Her eyes flicked to his. “So what do I do?” Cal smiled—something thoughtful and warm in it. “You start small. You say yes to new things. You let yourself be curious again, not calculated. And if you want…” He paused, almost careful. “I could help.” Her brows lifted. “You’d help me?” “You said you feel lost. I know something about that.” His voice dipped slightly, private now. “I just climbed out of a life that wasn’t right for me either. Maybe we figure things out at the same time.” She bit her lip, watching him. “Isn’t that a little dangerous?” He smiled, eyes warm. “Only if we’re lucky.”