Still, whether it was because he wasn’t working and didn’t have anything else better to do, or because he found her odd, Josh paid her a surprising amount of attention. If he were any other man, she might have squirmed under the scrutiny.

He was the most charming person she’d ever met. She had no idea how to navigate the minefield of their day-to-day interactions. With Everett, at least she’d had home field advantage when it came to trying to win his favor: hard-earned years’ worth of studying his likes and dislikes to ensure that their interactions always went down easy.

Josh studied her like a slide under a microscope. “What about period pieces? You know, lots of ruffled collars and weepy-eyed longing. I bet you go for those.”

Clara gracelessly bit off a long string of cheese from her fork. Thank goodness she didn’t have to bother trying to impress Josh with her table manners.

It was kind of nice, actually. The lack of romantic expectation let her relax. Someday she’d look back on this summer with fondness and laugh.

“I do like a good Regency drama, but I also like Keanu Reeves running hard toward danger in a tight T-shirt to save the city of Los Angeles with nothing but his bare hands and his mettle.” The sauce needed more basil. She added the herb to her mental grocery list. “My personality contains multitudes.”

Keanu Reeves’s character, Jack, came on screen and Clara emitted a happy little hum. That man sure knew how to wear a pair of cargo pants.

“Ohhh, I get it.” Josh slumped back against the couch. “This stuff makes you hot.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You get off on the heroics.” He gestured to the TV, where the characters attempted their daring rescue mission. “Look at you. Pink cheeks, wide eyes, breath coming out in little puffs. Those are classic signals.”

Her heart pounded unnaturally. She supposed having sex on the brain was an occupational hazard for Josh. What was her excuse?

“First of all, stop watching me and watch the movie. Second of all, you’re confusing lust with wholesome excitement.” She moved so one of the throw pillows blocked his view of her face, just in case. “They’re climbing into an elevator shaft. This is a suspenseful situation. I’m worried about the well-being of the hostages.”

Josh lowered the pillow and shot her a filthy smile. One that worked so well that for the first time in her life, Clara had to temper down the impulse to purr. “Oh please. Wait until Keanu slides under the bus to dismantle the bomb, I bet you go nuts.”

That moment did make her swoon. “My devotion to Speed is not motivated by anything remotely carnal.” At least, not entirely. “This film is a triumphant celebration of the human spirit.”

“You’re reaching,” he said, stretching his arms above his head until his shirt lifted high enough to reveal his lower stomach.

“I’m not.” She folded her arms to cover her duplicitous nipples. “Speed is about rising to the occasion. About average people like Jeff Daniels and Keanu and Sandra Bullock who are good and noble, and yes, hot, but in a soft, restrained way.”

“Restrained, my ass. You don’t get biceps like that without extensive personal training.”

Clara ignored that impertinent comment. “Speed is an action movie for the female gaze. Do you know how you can tell? The heroine has got on sensible shoes.”

Josh squinted at the screen. “So you identify with Sandra Bullock’s character?”

“I wish. Keanu falls for her as soon as she takes the wheel. I, on the other hand, would never recover from the embarrassment of Keanu calling me ma’am.”

Clara dabbed a napkin at a drop of sauce that had landed on the sofa. She never should have eaten dinner in front of the TV. She’d started picking up bad habits from her new roommate.

Josh fetched her a wet paper towel to better attack the burgeoning stain. “What’s wrong with ma’am?”

“Ma’am is so sexless.” She pouted. “The word tastes like sawdust in my mouth.”

“Aha! Sexless. Implying that you’d like for him to call you something sexy. You totally wanna do the horizontal mambo with Keanu.”

“The horizontal mambo? Seriously?” She threw the balled-up towel against his chest. “No one says that.”

He jump-shot the towel into the trash can. “Don’t like that one, huh? How about ‘buying a ticket to pound town’?”

Clara wrinkled her nose. “No, thank you.”

“Crashing the custard truck? Engaging in a little gland-to-gland combat? I can keep going.”

“Please don’t.” She sank down in her seat, trying to hide how even those ridiculous names somehow made her want to drape herself across Josh’s lap.

“Suit yourself.”

“I’m not denying the hunk factor here,” she conceded, “but there’s so much more to love about Speed.”

Josh pretended to cough into his hand. “Speed is a poor man’s Die Hard.”

Clara clutched her heart. “How dare you.”

He chuckled and reached for her empty plate.

Clinging to the edge of it, she tilted her head. “What are you doing?”

“Tidying up?” He tugged on his end until she let go.

“Oh. Thank you.” He’d taken to mirroring her behavior as if they were a team. A team unfit to accomplish anything, surely, but still, she appreciated the effort.

“Die Hard is a masterpiece. I’ll give you that,” she said when he returned from the kitchen. “But Speed has a uniquely endearing ensemble. There’s that nerdy tourist in the blazer, you know? I relate to him. I, too, came to L.A. with big dreams only to wind up circling the airport on a bus with a bomb.”

Josh raised his eyebrows as he returned to his seat.

“A metaphorical bus, obviously.”

“Wait.” He frowned and paused the movie. “Am I the bomb?”

“Don’t be silly.” She grabbed the remote and hit resume. Josh was absolutely the bomb. He was a big tangle of hormones trying to lure her to an untimely end. A bomb masked by cheesy jokes and kind eyes. One that could blow up her whole life if triggered at the wrong moment.

She tucked her legs underneath her with her knees pointing away from him. Best not to dwell. “Which character do you identify with?”

Josh chewed on his bottom lip. “I guess the bad guy.”

Clara made a dismissive huff through her nose.

“Well, I’m not Keanu, that’s for sure. I’m not saving anyone. I see that first bus blow up and I’m running in the other direction. There’s no movie with me as the lead.”

“Stop it. You’re nicer than you give yourself credit for. You’re helping me learn to drive out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Only because you remind me of a wounded woodland animal.”

“Thanks,” Clara said, the word dripping sarcasm.

“See? I’m totally the villain. Disillusioned and angry. Drunk on self-importance.”

“You are not Howard Payne.” Yesterday, she’d caught him trimming their elderly neighbor’s hydrangeas.

“Is that his name? Talk about on the nose. You know, if you flip the script this is a story about a broken system of law enforcement that abandons an officer disabled in the line of duty. Maybe he wanted to draw attention to the crumbling infrastructure of the LAPD.”

“Josh. Howard murders a bunch of people.”

“Yeah. That’s not cool.”

She tossed a pillow at him. “Pay attention.”

The rest of the movie passed in companionable silence. At the climax, Clara tried to wipe her leaking eyes without drawing attention to herself.

“Are you crying at Speed?” Josh sounded both amazed and appalled.

“Keanu is so sweet here.” Clara hiccuped. “He knows they might die and he sits on the floor with Sandra Bullock and holds her. He doesn’t try to grab her boob or kiss her. He wraps her in his arms, providing a shallow sense of safety. Isn’t that what all of us want deep down? Someone to hold us at the end of the line?”

“Are we watching the same movie here? I feel like you’re getting a much deeper read from Keanu’s potato face than I am.”

“Potato . . . face?”

Josh shrugged. “My mom used to say Keanu’s face looks as blank as a peeled potato.”

Clara grinned into her palm.

“Besides,” Josh said. “This isn’t even the end. What about happily ever after?”

“What about it?” Clara turned off the TV as the end credits began.

“Well, they don’t last. Jack and Annie.”

“Sure, they do.” She straightened the pillows on the couch.

“They don’t. There’s a sequel and Keanu’s not even in it. Sandra Bullock gets with some other cop.”

Walking into the bathroom to brush her teeth, Clara left the door open so she could respond. “I don’t acknowledge that.”

Josh followed her, accepting when she offered him the toothpaste and preparing his own brush. “What do you mean? The sequel exists. It’s not open to debate.”

Clara moved her toothbrush to rest inside her cheek. “If I never watch it, then it never happened.”