Wait with Me (2023) - full transcript

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Yes!

Ooh, boy. Oof!

Ooh!

It's not porn.

It is best-selling
entertainment.

Mwah.

Excuse me, but
you look familiar.

I'm sorry, what?

Do you work in a
veterinary office?

Oh, that's gotta be it.

You look so familiar.



I'm Betty and my poodle's name
is Misty, the teacup black one.

No, I'm sorry,
Betty. I'm a writer.

Maybe you've read
one of my books.

Oh, what's your name?

I write under the pen named
Mercedes Lee Loveletter.

Is it Christian romance?

No.

Is it Amish? Oh, how I
love those Amish novels.

Definitely not Amish.

Are you writing now?

Yes.

May I see?

I'm afraid I don't let anyone
see my work in progress.

Needs an editor's touch.



You were in here
yesterday too, right?

And the day before?

Okay. What's the problem?

Did management send you in here?

No, no. I'm just the baker.

Betty the baker.
You do the cookies.

Yes, I make the cookies.

The scones?

Holy cow, those
scones are delish.

- Do you really think so?
- Oh, yes.

- Have you tried the danishes?
- I haven't seen the danishes.

I usually get here around
10. They must be gone by 10.

Oh, well, that's a good sign.

I think so, too.

Good for you, Betty.

How many days have
you been in here?

Is there something terribly
wrong with your car?

I bet they could
get you a rental.

Actually, I'm not
really a writer, Betty.

Can you keep a secret?

I'm here with corporate.

We've been worried about
the service in this branch,

so they sent me here to scope
things out for a few weeks.

Well, I'd never heard
any complaints before.

Ah, but you wouldn't.
It's all very internal.

But I'm going to need you to
keep my presence here quiet.

If that's okay.

Mum's the word.

Thank you for your discretion.

We aren't worried
about you at all.

Hi, Dean.

Kate, I don't need
an oil change.

Yes, but you're my friend and
you'll do anything for me.

I need your car so I
don't blow my cover.

I lied to an old
lady. I'm in deep.

This is so desperate.

It doesn't matter.

What matters is that I've
got my writing mojo back

and I'm not giving it up.

Please?

Why don't you just
find a back entrance

instead of borrowing
every neighbor's car?

You never thought of that?

This deadline has me
freaked out, okay?

No, whatever.

- Wait...
- Thank you!

You don't need my car?

Nope!

Shit!

Are you okay?

Oh, my God, my computer.

Okay, it's not cracked,
but will it boot?

Oh, rookie mistake.

This is what I get
for not backing it up.

Oh, okay. Phew!

Hey.

Are you hurt?

Huh?

Um...

You, uh, you work here?

I do.

I'm a mechanic.

Were you getting a service?

Yes.

Then what brings you back here?

Completed cars are out front.

These back doors are
the employee entrance.

Right.

I, um... was coming
out for a smoke.

Great. Can I bum one?

Weren't you just fake
smoking licorice?

- You saw that?
- Yes.

Before my triumphant fall,

I saw something that looked
like a make-believe cloud

of cherry smoke
floating all around you.

I quit smoking three months ago.

Licorice helps.

- Doesn't hurt.
- Maybe hurts the ego.

How macho is it to
fake smoke candy?

My ego is never in danger, babe.

Well, with book boyfriend arms
like that, it's no wonder.

- Book boyfriend?
- Book boyfriend.

The leading man
in a romance novel

that readers claim ownership of

because he doesn't likely
exist in the real world.

Basically, the ideal man.

I haven't heard of that before.

I'd take it you're into
books or something.

Or something.

And it doesn't surprise me
you've never heard of it.

You're not my demo.

What if you're my demo?

Well, we won't know
that until the end.

Fess up, where have you been?

The library, like I
told you in my text.

Bullshit.

You smell like
coffee and rubber.

Also known as freedom.

You actually went back
to the Tire Depot.

Kate, come on. They are going
to call the cops on you.

For what? Stealing complimentary
coffee and cookies?

Come on. That's not a thing.

But loitering is.

You think they'd really do that?

Anyway, I found a back entrance.

No more borrowing cars.

Oh, that's even better.

Skulking in and out of
side entrances, brilliant.

I don't care, Lindsay.

I found my words at the TD.

And I'm not letting
go until I'm done.

The TD?

Tire Depot. It's
such a mouthful.

You know what's a mouthful?

Prison.

This is a crutch, Kate.

You've got to see that.

Who cares? I couldn't write
a thing before I went there.

And writing is what keeps
me in this posh townhouse

on the outskirts of
beautiful Boulder.

If I want to continue being
this stunning creature

living the high life, I
have to follow the vibe.

And the vibe is
strong at Tire Depot.

Can we stop dancing around
what's really going on here?

Watch yourself. That is
luxury-reclaimed barn wood.

This is about your ex

who happens to
still live with you.

He's gone for the summer.

That is hardly living together.

And as soon as he gets
back, I'm not budging.

We're playing this
game of chicken,

and there's no way I'm
letting that entitled fucker

take this house.

So even though you
can't write in it,

you want to fight for
the house with no vibe?

That's irrelevant.

There's no way in
hell I'm moving.

I have to write a
follow-up bestseller.

That is no small feat.

I live next door
to my best friend.

You don't want me
to move out, do you?

No.

What?

It looks like a letter
from Tire Depot.

They figured it out?

Stop being so dramatic.

Have they ever mailed
you something before?

No. Oh, my God. What if
this is the moment I feared?

They might be
taking my mojo away.

"Dear Miss Smith,
we have taken notice

of your enjoyment of our
customer waiting area."

Read it.

An invoice for refreshments?

- Holy shit.
- How did they know?

- What?
- $180 for lattes and cookies.

Kate, how many did you eat?

I don't eat lunch.

- Wait a damn minute.
- What?

- This has danishes here.
- Okay?

I have never had a
Danish there in my life.

- You haven't.
- I'm being punk'd.

- Dean.
- Dean.

Okay, here's a plan.
I'm going to kneel here.

You knock on the door.

When he opens it, junk punch.

Kate, what if he didn't do it?

I mean, that's so extreme.

Surely he has a punch to the
balls out coming for something.

He's a mountain manwhore.
They always have it coming.

Why are you so mature?

You're a dick,

and I know that fake
invoice was from you.

Nice to see you too, Kate.

Just be grateful she
didn't junk punch you.

I saved you from that.

- Thanks, Liz.
- Mm-hmm.

How'd you know it was me?

The letterhead was too perfect.

And I know you know
how to use Photoshop.

You should try to suck more.

Oh, that is the first
time I've heard that.

You should have seen her, Dean.

I thought she was
going to start crying

when she saw that letterhead.

Look, I tried to get
you to come check out

my co-working space.

We've got coffee and
donuts there too, you know?

Eh, those aren't my
people. Not my vibe.

And your vibe is this tire shop?

You gotta see it
to believe it, man.

If you find your vibe somewhere,

you have to fight for it.

Tire Depot is to me what
Fanny Braun was to John Keats.

Poetry in motion, man.

Okay, you sound like a lunatic.

What if you could work
better and faster elsewhere?

You'd have more time
to hike, bang chicks,

prank your friends, buy
more plaid trousers.

Oh, you've been noticing
my slacks, Kate?

No, and don't
change the subject.

I feel like a fucking champion

when I'm blasting out words

and sitting next to some gal

who's wasting her
life on social media.

It's a real morale boost
for Mercedes Lee Loveletter.

And I still can't believe
you hit a best-seller list

with that pen name.

My readers get me.

They'd have to.

So you're going
back there tomorrow?

Hell's yeah.

This smut won't write itself.

I have two large pizzas,
parmesan breadsticks,

a pound of boneless wings,
and three dipping sauces.

Mercedes Lee Loveletter.

I have two large pizzas,
parmesan breadsticks,

a pound of boneless wings

and three dipping sauces.

Mercedes Lee Loveletter.

I have two large pizzas,

parmesan breadsticks,

a pound of boneless wings,
and three dipping sauces.

Claim it now or it's
going in the trash.

I'm Mercedes.

I've been calling your
name for like five minutes.

Well, I didn't order a pizza.

I don't care.

Fucking whore.

I'm trying to
keep a low profile.

Everyone is staring at me.

I'm fucking mortified.

Laughing so fucking hard.

You interrupted my anal scene.

I was in the zone.

Wheezing on the floor.

How do you have time for this?

Don't you have a book to write?

Best 53 bucks I ever spent.

You're back.

I had an issue with
one of my tires.

Which car?

I drive the Cadillac SRX.

A Cadillac?

Isn't that kind of
an old lady car?

It is not an old lady car.

It is a luxury SUV
and it is wonderful.

Well, if you have
that kind of money,

you should look into
a Lexus or a BMW.

Much more sexy feel to the body.

Maybe I don't want
a sexy body feel.

What's your name?

My name is Mercedes.

That's perfect.

You'd look damn
fine in a Mercedes.

What do you drive?

An Indian motorcycle.

Why am I not surprised?

Am I that predictable?

More predictable
than my old lady car.

Well, it's nice to officially
meet you, Mercedes.

I'm Miles Hudson.

Now tell me why
you're really here.

Would some leftover
pizza keep you quiet?

I might buy you some time.

Time is all I need.

- You're serious?
- Super serious.

Very well, Mercedes.

I'll leave you be, for now.

See you around the
water cooler, Miles.

You haven't noticed
that hot redhead

in the comfort center, have you?

Nope.

Were she there today?

Yeah, and yesterday.

What was she doing?

Just on her computer.

So she's siphoning free Wi-Fi.

Call the cops. We got
a mooch on our hands.

I don't get a mooch
vibe from her.

Mostly feels like desperation.

Mmm.

Now it all makes sense.

You have a fetish for
desperate girls, bro.

- I do not.
- Yes, you do.

You like to save them.

Be the gallant protector,
who sweeps in, guards them.

This girl does not need saving.

So she's nothing like Jocelyn?

Dude, I'm done with Joss.

Can we please stop
talking about her?

Miles, you got dumped by
your longtime sweetheart

for some rich, ugly prick.

That shit sticks
with you forever.

What a sausage fest.

Why do we live here again?

Because my uncle's the manager.

And no other boss would
put up with our shit.

And maybe that.

Oh, definitely that.

Hey, Justin. I'm gonna
close up tonight, okay?

Hey, Red.

Mercedes?

Shit, did I pass out?

Yeah.

Have you fainted before?

Only when I don't eat.

Why didn't you have a
cookie or something?

I feel bad eating
all the cookies.

Betty works so hard on them.

It's bad enough that I
drink all the coffee.

What's wrong?

No one ever tells her how
good those cookies are.

I got here early so that
I could try her danishes.

And they were already gone.

How crazy is that?

Betty has to get up so early
to make them fresh every day,

and then people just
gobble them up in seconds.

I wonder if anyone
appreciates her in her life.

Do you know if she's married?

Betty gets a hug from
me every time I see her.

The guys here love
her baked goods.

- Really?
- Really.

That's really sweet.

I'm sorry.

I get emotional when I'm hungry.

You know how some
people get hangry?

I get I'm emungry.

- Emotional and hungry?
- It's a thing.

I got them to add it
to Urban Dictionary.

Well, let's get you
something to eat, then.

Like pizza. Not cookies.

I love pizza. I know.

I saw your shirt the other day.

With the pizza? I
love that shirt.

Oh, my God.

I am probably bugging you.

You're not.

Please. I practically
just fainted in your arms.

We could not get any more
book worthy if we tried.

Mercedes, this
isn't the first time

I've had a girl faint
at the sight of me.

Just feed me

before you start reciting any
more cheesy romance novel lines.

I had to kill a guy for these.

I hope you didn't
get blood on them.

Jesus, now what?

Oh, come on. There was
nothing sexy about that.

I just stuffed my face
with a breadstick.

So, what are you so
busy doing every day

that you forget to eat?

All I can say is that
I was in the zone.

You need to drink water.

On a day that you didn't
faint into my arms,

you could have a beer first.

But please, for my own sanity,
will you drink some water first?

Thank you.

Now, tell me what
you're doing every day.

Think of this as a safe space.

Nothing will be
held against you.

And you've been doing this
for over three weeks now?

Basically.

But why won't you tell
me what you're writing?

Because it weirds people out.

I won't judge.

You'll judge.

Well, if you tell
me you're writing

the next "Game of Thrones,"

we'll basically
have to get married

and live happily ever after.

It's not the next
"Game of Thrones,"

but thank you for the
most romantic proposal

I've ever received.

You get a lot of proposals?

Yeah.

Only from guys with issues.

I don't have issues.

Where were you born?

Utah.

What brought you here?

Tech school.

Did you know anyone
when you moved out here?

I followed this girl.

What was she like?

I don't want to talk about her.

Oh, yikes.

Did I just stumble
on a sore spot?

Say the word and I'll stop.

- Word.
- Got it.

No ex-girlfriend talk.

I mean, I'm over her, but I just
don't like to think about her.

I totally get it.

Douchebag ex-boyfriend
over here.

So what do you do when
you're not working?

I like to ride my
motorcycle, hike, read.

Occasionally I go to the lake.

Mmm. Cool.

Well, I'll make
sure to go shopping

for my Harley this weekend.

You do that.

Come on, let's get
you back to the shop

before I start boring
you with why you should

get an Indian
instead of a Harley.

Oof. Mechanic
talk. Sounds kinky.

Sex appeal isn't
created in a fancy gym

with weights and treadmills.

It's born in powerful,
grungy garages

where men, real fucking men

work with their hands.

Where they get so
dirty, they have to use

special manly soap to
clean themselves up.

You can't find that shit
at Bath & Body Shop.

This is pure fucking
testosterone.

Billionaire romance is out.

Mechanic romance is in.

So very in.

Another week of work down.

You look hyper focused.

Yeah. I, um...

I got a new book idea today.

Any big plans for the weekend?

My buddy and I might go to
the Golden Gate Park tomorrow.

We try to camp and hit

this great hiking trail
there every summer.

Sounds fun.

Super masculine.

What about you?

Oh, I will probably
do some more writing.

Sounds exciting.

Oh, it is.

Well, you have a good weekend.

I have no idea why I just
kissed you on the cheek.

That was really inappropriate.

No worries here.

Endless dirty thoughts
live rent free in my mind.

I swear I'm usually a
lot smoother than this.

Don't worry.

Your book boyfriend status
is still very much secure.

See you Monday, Mercedes.

See you at the coffee machine.

- Cheers, buddy.
- Cheers.

What are you waiting for, bro?

She tells you she has dirty
thoughts and you don't think,

"Yeah, I'm gonna tap that?"

No, she's too cool
for a random hookup.

Then I'd have to see her every
day in the comfort center.

It would be awkward.

Wait, you just don't go in there
anymore after you bang her.

Boom, problem solved.

- Two.
- I like seeing her.

Oh, my gosh. Thank you.

Is that that same redhead?

Yeah.

Ooh.

I'll visit you in jail.

What?

Yeah, when you get arrested
for killing that guy,

I will visit you in jail.

Dude, I thought you were
just friends with this girl.

I am.

Then fucking cool it, bro.

- Hey, Miles.
- Hey, Mercedes.

Fancy seeing you here.

I thought you were
going camping.

I thought you were writing.

Girl needs a break sometimes.

I'll find a coffee
shop tomorrow.

This is my buddy, Sam.

Hey, nice to meet you.

- Hi.
- Mercedes.

Right. Mercedes.

Well, I will...

Can I buy you a drink?

Drink sounds good.

Here, take my spot.

I'm gonna go say hi to a
friend. He's the DJ tonight.

Thanks.

- Nice to meet you.
- Yeah, you too.

What's your poison?

- Miles.
- Mercedes.

Why haven't you asked
me to hang out again

since we had pizza together?

Tire Depot seems safer.

Safer?

Meaning that I
won't run into you

and break my computer again?

Something like that.

So what are your
plans really tonight?

You're just hanging
out with Sam,

or are you guys on the hunt?

On the hunt?

For tail.

A one night stand that gets
really awkward in the morning

because she wants to
make you pancakes,

but you would rather
chew your arm off

and sneak out
before she wakes up.

Something like that.

I could tell that about you.

How?

It's my business.

So, what's your type?

Draws your eye, what are
we working with here?

I don't know.

Brunettes, I guess.

My ex was a blonde.
No more blondes.

Brunettes it is.

Let's see.

Not my friend Lindsay.

She already dated my friend Dean

and it was so awkward
for months after.

What about her?

No, I try to avoid packs.

There's always one
friend who cock blocks,

one friend who tries
to steal the guy

and one friend who
slut-shames the other two.

Man, girls can be mean.

You're telling me.

What about you?

Why aren't you on the hunt?

You said you're
over your ex, right?

Oh, I totally am. He is vile.

And your friend Dean
isn't a prospect?

No way.

He is my neighbor and he
reminds me of my brother.

Uh-huh.

You know what?
You're right, Miles.

I should totally find a
random hookup tonight.

Well, I never said
anything about random.

Well, you're doing
it, so why can't I?

You don't seem like
the random type.

Well, maybe I should be.

Can I tell you a secret, Miles?

You can tell me
anything, Mercedes.

My writing makes me horny.

I'm sorry, what?

I'm serious.

I have a sex toy that works
really fast and really well,

but sometimes I just miss
the heat of a man, you know?

Not really.

Fine, the heat of a woman. You
know what I'm talking about?

The heat.

You might have to elaborate
with great detail.

You asked for it.

The heat of a woman is so
much more than temperature.

It's her soft, sensual curves,

the way that your fingers dig
into the meat of her thighs

when she's wrapped around you.

The delicate little
bumps on her ribcage

when she's throwing her
head back in pleasure.

Tight little nipples,

and pillows of creamy softness.

The fact that you could
fold your body around her

and envelop her almost entirely

and still want more.

That kind of heat.

You totally write erotica.

Damn it. I didn't
want you to know.

Why not? What's
the big secret?

Because it'll change the
way that you look at me.

How so?

You'll either think that
I'm some kind of sex freak,

or you'll be
embarrassed by what I do

and not want to tell anyone.

Are you joking?

Well, your buddy doesn't count.
He's probably a hornball.

I mean anyone that
is important to you.

It's a big reason why
my ex and I broke up.

He asked me to lie to his family

about what I did for a living.

- What a fucker.
- Yes.

But I write some
really kinky shit.

It's not exactly easy to
tell your grandma about.

I would tell my
grandma about you.

- You would not.
- I fucking would.

Grandmas hate me.
My grandma hates me.

She's really religious, and
every time that I come home,

she tries to arrange for a
meeting with me and her priest.

She thinks that I
need an intervention

or an exorcism or something.

I'm sorry, that's not funny.

It's kind of funny.

Come with me.

- Where are we going?
- Calling my grandma.

No, Miles. Are you insane?

- It's after midnight.
- She loves me. I'm her favorite.

Okay, okay. We'll
call my sister.

Miles, what are you doing?

Too late.

Hello.

Meg? I want to ask
you a question.

Why is it so loud?

Miles, how is it possible
for you to cock-block me

from 500 miles away?

Big brother intuition.

Just ask your question.

Okay, so I met this girl.
She's super fucking hot.

Gross, Miles.

Sorry, okay.

So she writes sexy books,
like that's her job.

Dirty kinky shit, I think.

And she was saying that
grandmothers hated her,

and I said our grandma
would be totally into it.

True or false?

Duh, Grams is a
freak. Totally true.

So, who is this girl? I
want to read her stuff.

I'll find out.

But I'll call you back, Meg.

Don't fuck that dude tonight.

What happened? What did I say?

Mercedes, what are we doing?

I don't know, I just
kissed you, I guess.

Yes, you did.

And as hot as that
was, we have to stop.

Right, we're in public.

I like you Mercedes, but
I'm not in the position

to like someone right now.

Wait, what?

After everything that you
just said with your sister?

Got it.

Well, I'm sorry to put you

through such a
difficult situation.

Mercedes, wait.

I don't want things to be weird.

Well, you shouldn't have
flirted with me then.

See you around, Miles.

Why are you here?

Oh my God, what is
that horrible smell?

It's nothing.

Wait, wait, is that a
tire scented candle?

No.

Give it to me!

Stop it, you're going to make
me spill wax on my floor!

Let go so I can see
what you're hiding.

- No!
- Kate!

- No!
- Hello.

Don't stop on my account.

Oh my God, burnt rubber
scented soy candle.

I can't believe this is a thing.

Jesus, H, you got it bad, Kate.

I know!

Can't write a damn word,

and all I want to do is
go back to Tire Depot.

Then go.

So you kissed him and he
turned you down, big deal.

What, are you in
the seventh grade?

Go back to the Tire Depot.

She has a point, Kate.

It'll be awkward for
a day, three tops.

He'll probably stay in
the garage and ignore you.

You're right.

My house smells
like shit now, too.

Fine. I'll go back.

But only because burnt rubber
is not the same as new rubber.

We're rotating and
balancing tires.

But the rattling sound
that you were hearing

is, unfortunately...

How's the book coming?

Coming along.

This is the point in the story
where I rip the couple apart

and ruin everything they thought
they knew about each other.

Ouch.

Can't they just be happy?

What's dramatic about happy?

My readers like the
pain, the torture.

Makes the makeup sex
that much better.

You know, my sister texted me.

She asked for your full author
name so she could look you up.

Really?

I warned you.

We are a family full of readers.

You're gonna laugh.

I was drunk when
I came up with it.

My full pen name is
Mercedes Lee Loveletter.

What's your real last name?

It's Smith.

Also, I write a lot of BDSM.

So does this mean we
don't have to be awkward?

Yeah, friends.

Good.

Because as a friend,
I was wondering

if you might be able to help me

with some research
for my next book.

What did you have in mind?

You're gonna throw
your leg over,

but don't let your ankles
touch this area here.

Got it?

It'll make me feel
better if you wear it.

It'll protect you a little.

Okay, get on.

Okay, are you ready?

Ready.

Whoo!

Ah!

God, that was incredible.

You weren't scared?

No. Was I supposed to be?

My ex hated this thing.

Your ex is a fool.

I mean, I understand that
motorcycles are dangerous,

but the danger is what
makes it exciting.

You took the words
right out of my mouth.

Unfortunately, my ex liked
a different kind of danger.

Do you want to tell me
what you mean by that,

or do you want to
say "word" again?

My ex loved the
cheating kind of danger.

Yikes.

It wasn't just one guy.

That's the hardest part.

How you can bald-faced lie
to someone you care about?

That's not the fun
kind of danger for me.

Not at all.

I'm so sorry.

It's fine.

I blame myself for not
walking away sooner.

She made me a jealous head
case with baggage for days.

Yeah. Jealousy is the worst.

Although, I will tell you,
from a writer's standpoint,

readers love a possessive man.

Is that right?

So I should be thanking my ex

for making me a
possessive asshole?

God, no.

She sounds like too
much of an asshole

to get any credit for
the man you are today.

Well, your ex sounded
like an asshole, too.

I still can't believe he
made you lie about your job

- to his family.
- Right?

Why did we ever date them?

I ask myself that all the time.

I guess you could say that if
we didn't go through all that,

then we might not be here
enjoying this awesome view.

You're missing something
really beautiful.

No, I'm not.

I can't figure you out, Miles.

I can't figure me out either.

How's it going?

No way. You just finished?

I just finished.

Congratulations, Mercedes.

Couldn't have done it
without you, Miles.

We should celebrate.
Buy you a drink?

Actually, I'm having a
little "The End" party

at my house on Friday.

- Want to come by?
- I'd love to.

Great.

Don't forget to call
me Mercedes tonight.

- Mercedes!
- Woo!

See! Hi, everyone! Woo!

Mercedes is doing a keg stand

to celebrate finishing her book.

What? No way!

Mercedes is not
doing a keg stand

because you made me
buy that shitty IPA.

Mercedes likes light beer
and complimentary coffee

and writing sex books!

Yeah!

And hard and fast wall sex!

Yeah!

And a formal scene where a
guy takes off a girl's panties

and fingers them in his
tuxedo pocket all night long.

That was really
specific, but yeah!

Miles!

I'm going to go get a drink.

Uh, I'm going to
follow that guy.

I'm Lindsay.

Best friend and neighbor.

There's my a Tiki
bar over there.

Can I get you
something to drink?

I'm Miles. Thanks.
I'm good for now.

Okay.

I'm going to follow
those guys. Bye.

Can we go somewhere and talk?

Sure.

You have a roommate?

Kind of.

So it's a guy?

Yes.

Figures.

It's not that Dean guy, right?

You said he's your neighbor?

He is my neighbor.
It's not Dean.

Then who is it?

No one.

I'm sorry. I should just go.

My roommate is gay.

Seriously?

And he's out of town
for the summer, so...

Why are you acting like this?

I thought you only
wanted to be friends.

It's a lot harder than
I thought it would be.

What can I do to help?

I'm overprotective.

I'm overbearing, arrogant.

Okay.

Pretty much everything
I do is in the extreme.

I try not to be jealous, I do.

- She...
- I'm not her.

I know you're not her.

I just really need you to not
do things to make me jealous.

Why?

Because it will make
me want to fuck you

so you don't ever want to
look at another guy again.

Prove it.

I hope you know what
you're asking for, Red.

You're not getting these back.

Jesus fuck, how are you real?

Mmm...

Oh...

You're a dirty girl, Mercedes.

Yes.

I like your rough
hands on my body.

Let's see how we look together.

Talk dirty to me like
you did the other night.

I love when you put your
finger in my mouth like that.

Oh, God.

Mercedes...

Shirt thief.

I've been looking for this
shirt for ten minutes.

Are you in a pancake mood,

or a cut your arm
off and run mood?

I could eat.

Go sit down.

I feel like I need to tell you

that I didn't come here
last night to do that.

Okay.

I mean, don't get me
wrong, it was really good.

Fucking great, actually.

It was, wasn't it?

But, I just want you to
know that wasn't my plan.

Is this the part
where you tell me

that you're not in a position
to like someone again?

Maybe.

That's fine.

It is?

This is no big deal, Miles.

We had sex.

You didn't ask me to go steady.

I'm not getting this twisted up.

So, you're good with this...

just being casual?

Yeah.

I'm a workaholic, so
it's not like I have time

to devote to a boyfriend.

Though, I might need your
help with some book research.

Book research? I
thought you were done.

Oh, how little you
know about writing.

Tire Depot was the easy stuff.

I want help with
the bedroom stuff.

You write erotic novels.

What more could
you need to know?

Okay, so for my new book,

I want to write from
a dual point of view.

So one chapter will be
in the female voice,

and the next chapter will
be in the male voice,

and I'll alternate
between the two.

I know what dual point
of view is, Mercedes.

Okay, sorry.

So, I'm gonna need your help
getting into the mind of a man.

Should we start now?

I'd hate to see your
education suffer.

Actually, since
we're sticking with

this whole friends
with benefits thing,

I was wondering if
you could help me

with a little project first.

Like a naked kind of project?

I mean, you can be
naked if you want to,

but it might not be safe.

Could you help me move
my roommate's shit

downstairs and
into a moving pod?

Absolutely.

Friends have to earn
their benefits sometimes.

Thanks.

Oh my God, Hannah.

I have entered into a casual
friends with benefits situation

with a mechanic from Tire Depot

who thinks my name is Mercedes.

Wait, this is actually
happening to you,

like in real life?
- Yes!

And I like him way more
than just a friend,

so I'm in crisis
mode. What do I do?

Besides bone him
every chance you get?

Yeah, I mean, my alter
ego's taking the reins here.

I fully understand.

And I've kind of been
avoiding him this week

to sort of play cool so that he
doesn't know that I like him.

Which you do?

Yes, but I don't want
him to know that.

I mean, is this relationship
worth me telling him

my real name, or is it just sex?

Are you done?

I could use some
sage advice here.

Listen to me. Here's
what you're gonna do.

You are gonna go camping.

- Camping?
- Camping.

Why?

Kate, outdoorsy
guys love that shit.

Just tell them it's for book
research and you need his help.

Ooh, that's good, because
I actually use that excuse.

Perfect.

You're going to be
adorable and fumbling

and not know how to
cast a fishing pole,

and he's going to realize
how much fun it is

to go camping and get
to fuck in a tent.

By the end of the
trip, you'll know

if you need to fish or cut bait.

Hmm. You should be a writer.

- Mmm.
- Hannah, this is good.

You're a genius.
I'm going camping.

Just, um, let me know where to
have the pizza delivered to.

Ha-ha, beesh.

Hey, Kate. You
here for a cronut?

You know it.

I'm going to be a hot minute
before the new batch is ready,

but go ahead and take a number
and we'll bring them right out.

I'll take two and
a cup of coffee.

You got it.

My dick misses you.

Your dick
is insatiable.

- Are you dry-humping me?
- Uh-huh.

Tell me what you're thinking.

I want you naked
and in a bed now.

How are
the words flowing?

Not as good
as the other night.

You are soaking wet.

Oh, my God.

You're at the bakery?

I could think of something
else I'd rather be eating.

Let me take care of you.

OMG, you're filthy.

Says the smut writer.

Feeling inspired?

5,000 words in three hours.

That's Tire Depot
magic right there.

Maybe it's Miles Hudson magic.

Oh, Jesus!

Say "hi," Dean.

I was literally standing
there for almost five minutes.

I'm reading my texts.

So, what is so important
that you had to see me?

I don't know what you mean.

We do this every week.

Yeah.

But you've never texted
me three times the day of

to make sure that I was coming.

I take cronuts very seriously.

Dean.

I saw his truck outside your
place a couple nights ago.

Whose truck?

Miles. Who else?

How do you know
it was his truck?

Because I don't know any
other guys in Boulder

who would drive a beastly
vehicle like that.

Oh my God, you're such a snob.

So, he spent the night?

What did you, come back
and check in the morning?

Maybe.

Stop worrying. We're
just fooling around.

It's nothing serious.

See, that is exactly
what I'm worried about.

The guy rejected
you once already.

Thank you for reminding me.

Any guy that jerks you
around like that is an idiot.

He's not an idiot.

He's a mechanic at a Tire
Depot. How bright can he be?

Are you kidding me?

Hey, just calm down.

Coming from a high
school dropout.

I got my GED.

And I am self-educated.

In what? Being an ass hat?

I surround myself with
people who are inclusive

and non-judgmental because
I have a weird job.

I don't want judgy
friends in my corner

because that would
make me a hypocrite.

And Miles is so encouraging
about what I do.

More encouraging than
you have ever been.

And he's not dumb at all.

He's actually really
fucking insightful.

And you might see
that if you quit

looking down your
nose at people.

Don't go, Kate.

No, I'm sorry.

But if you're going to
start acting like this,

then I don't see how we
can continue to be friends.

Kate...

I like you.

Yeah, well, I liked you, too,

until you started acting
like a douche nozzle.

No. I mean, I really like you.

- And I...
- Shit.

I don't think it's something
I can ignore anymore.

Dean...

How long?

A couple years.

But I was with Lindsay

and you were with that
douchebag Dryston.

Why didn't you tell me?

I didn't want to be a rebound.

You're hooking up
with a guy who still

doesn't even know
your real name.

How do you think
that's going to end?

He wants it casual, but
I want the whole thing.

The good, the bad, all of it.

I'm sorry, Dean.

But I just don't
feel the same way.

But you are one
of my best friends

and I don't want to change that.

I need you to go.

But why?

We all have our
own little places

and this is my Tire Depot.

Please.

I'm sorry, Dean.

Hey.

What's that?

A carburetor.

What does it do?

Um, kind of a lot.

Do you really want to know?

Yes.

Well, it mixes the proper
ratio of gas and air

inside of an engine for
combustion to occur.

Nowadays, most cars
have fuel injectors,

but the classics still
run on these puppies.

Interesting.

It's kind of like how a
candle needs oxygen to burn.

Combustion of an
engine can't take place

without the air the
carburetor brings in.

Kind of like how...

an orgasm can't be
achieved without friction.

Sure. You could
draw that parallel.

I would like to draw
that parallel soon.

Did you have something in mind?

Watch your step up here.

Woop!

Smells so good.

Miles, this is perfect.

I didn't know girls could be
this excited about camping.

Well, don't judge a book
by its cover, mister.

Look, there's a path that
leads right to the water.

Perfect.

Come on. We got work to do.

Got to set up camp.

This looks brand new.

Yeah. I just do a
sleeping bag, usually.

So you bought this for me?

It's not only for you.

This will save my
knees big time.

You're such a horny bastard.

Says the smut writer.

Mm-hmm.

Tickle, tickle, tickle!

Seriously?

Seriously. Take
your shorts off.

I figured you were thirsty.

We've earned these.

Yeah, camping is hard.

Mountain air suits you.

I'm just in a good mood.

It's amazing how much nicer
life is with no drama.

Do you ever talk to your ex?

Not a word, and that's good.

You never told me how you found
out she was cheating on you.

She got pregnant.

With some rich old guy's kid.

We were on a break at the time.

Wow.

The layers.

Do you think that she
got pregnant on purpose?

No.

Yes?

I don't know. Probably.

I have to wonder what
kind of a fuckwit I was

to not really realize.

She was always money obsessed.

Thought being a mechanic
was too blue-collar.

Wanted me to make more money.

You seem like you're
doing just fine to me.

See, thank you.

I'm just pissed off I wasted

the best years of
my life with her.

Who said they were
the best years?

Look around you, Miles.

It's a pretty beautiful day.

You want for nothing.

That is an incredible
quality in a person.

And, I mean, look at
you. You're smoking hot.

You got a great job.

House, friends.

Really sexy fuck buddy.

Thank you.

So don't sweat the past.

Focus on the now.

Seriously, right now,
my bobber disappeared

several minutes ago, and
I don't know what to do.

Shit, you gotta bite.

Are you kidding me?

I caught a bicycle tire.

What the hell, Colorado?

Way to keep it
classy. My hands hurt.

Surely you could see
the irony in this.

Babe, you caught a tire.

This is kismet.

Truth or dare?

Truth.

Do you ever get horny in
the garage at Tire Depot?

What?

You're working on
a customer's car

and your hands are
getting really dirty

and you're just really...

digging in there.

I'm afraid not.

Damn.

But classic car work
on the other hand,

if I'm working on one of those

and an old car that hasn't
run in fucking decades

and suddenly roars to life,

then hell yes.

Rock solid.

Ha. I knew it.

Perverts attract perverts.

Okay. Truth or dare?

Dare.

Ooh, somebody has secrets.

Shut up.

Skinny dip in the lake.

The lake that birthed
my blessed tire? No way.

Who knows what the hell
else is in that thing?

It's fine. I knew
you wouldn't do it.

All talk and no action.

A-hem.

Need I remind you who has been

sneaking into Tire
Depot for weeks now?

You call that dangerous?

I am consuming
complimentary beverages

without service miles.

That is just as bad as thieving.

Such a cold hard criminal.

Fine, I'll do it.

But you have to do it with me.

And why would I do that?

Because I'll be naked.

Come on, now. We
made it this far.

Is that gonna hurt when
you jump in the water?

Not if you hold it.

Come on!

Cannonball!

Whoo-hoo!

Mercedes?

Do you feel like...

Do you feel that?

Feel what?

Oh, my God, that's freezing!

Oh...

Good morning.

Morning.

You've been busy this morning.

Yeah, it's a muddy mess,

so I figured we should
head back early.

Oh, okay.

What can I do to help?

I forgot the pancake mix.

Don't read into that.

Well, thanks for the
help with the research.

Anytime.

You okay?

I'm just tired.

Shouldn't have gotten
the mattress pad.

Mm-Hmm.

Looks like you got company.

I'll see you later, Mercedes.

Okay. Bye.

Hi, Dean.

Hey, Kate.

Want to come in for some coffee?

Is it complimentary?

For people who aren't
assholes, it is.

Nothing to say about that
loud muffler on Miles's truck?

I'm surprised you know
what a muffler is.

I'm learning.

I am, too.

I'm really sorry, Kate.

Come on in, then.

Did you spend the night at
Miles's house last night?

Are you really asking that?

I'm just making small
talk, Kate. I promise.

No judgment.

We were camping.

- Camping?
- It was for book research.

And it was really fun.

Writing something different?

Trying to.

Inspiration must be flowing.

It has its moments.

And Miles is the guy that
brings this out in you.

He's certainly not
hurting things.

So different from me.

Dean, look.

I never had a clue that
you had feelings for me.

If I had, I would have done
so many things differently.

Like what?

I don't know.

Maybe come over less often.

I'm sorry if I led you
to believe otherwise.

No, no.

You were just being yourself.

It's pretty magnetic.

Weird to get a compliment from
someone you just rejected.

I think that if you really like
him, you need to come clean.

Start by telling
him your real name,

and end with the fact that you
still live with your ex, Kate.

The longer you wait,
the harder it'll be.

But I moved his
stuff out, at least.

If he really cares,
he'll forgive you.

I'm telling you
this as your friend.

So we're still friends?

Only if I can still
wear my fancy pants.

Done.

We've been here five minutes.
How much longer do you need?

It's a fucking tire.
How long can it take?

Just checking the warranty, sir.

If for some reason your
tire isn't repairable,

we'd have to...

Whoa, whoa, why can't
my tire be repaired?

Well, if there's a
puncture in the sidewall,

those aren't fixable,
unfortunately,

so we'd have to go in...

What a rip-off!
Who's a manager?

I want to talk to
them right now.

Bro, who's that chick?

She's a customer service rep.

Perfect. We'll take her.

I'm afraid you
don't get to pick.

Yeah, I think we
could if we wanted to.

Hey, this isn't ordering a girl
off the fucking Internet, moron.

Do you want your fucking
tire fixed or not?

Buddy...

Manager. Now.

Just go back to the shop.

I'll let my uncle deal
with these guys, okay?

Yeah, why don't you
to go back to the shop

and let your boy
talk to this out.

What kind of business
are you running?

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

What'd that licorice
ever do to you?

Nothing.

What's going on with you?

You look ready to rip
someone's head off.

Nice dress.

You like it?

So long as you
don't twirl in it.

What is wrong with you?

Nothing.

Just some entitled customers
getting on my nerves.

Do me a favor and don't go into

the customer comfort
center today, okay?

Sure.

Would me going over to
yours tonight cheer you up?

Tonight?

After work maybe?

I want to see your house,
specifically your garage.

You know, research.

Get our hands dirty.

Fine.

Wow.

Moody's kind of hot on you.

Oh my God, Miles.

This is stunning.

1965 Ford pickup.

Got the paint done last
month, interior last week.

All she needs now
is a new carburetor.

For combustion.

You remember that?

Duh.

The orgasm of the engine.

Well, it might take a while.

I can't find the right
one to save my life.

They're pretty
rare and expensive.

You said it was your grandpa's?

Looks like it belongs
in a Pixar film.

Yeah.

He passed away two years ago.

I'm so sorry to hear that.

He was 77, so he
had a solid run.

Thought he was
gonna live forever.

Hey, he always kept little
candies in the glove box.

You want one?

Uh, no. No.

If those were your grandpa's,

it should stay where they are.

I wish I had it running already.

It was sort of a dying
promise I made to him.

Joss always got pissed at me
when I worked on this truck.

I feel bad I haven't
finished it yet.

Miles.

Look at this thing.

It's art.

And you've already
done so much to it.

He would've loved you.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah.

You're real.

You don't put on
a show for people.

Everything you say is
exactly what you are.

He would've loved
your name, too.

Mercedes? Hot cars.

Miles.

Are you sure? Here?

You and classic cars?

Nothing I want more.

No book research. No thinking.

Just us.

Honey, I'm home.

Oh, shit.

Dryston.

Hi, Katie.

Give us a hug.

Best entrepreneurs in
the state of Colorado.

That's right, man.

Dude Are you even
listening to me?

Yeah, sorry.

Your uncle wants
to you buy him out.

That's fucking awesome.

It's awesome for both of us.

I want you by my side.

Maybe as manager or
fucking parts director.

Maybe you can even open
that vintage car garage

under the Tire Depot umbrella.

Work on classic cars more often.

Put your granddad's
truck in our showroom.

Damn!

We'd have everything
under one roof:

Tires, auto repair,
antique car restorations.

I get hard just
thinking about it.

I guess that wouldn't suck.

Come on, man.

I thought this
would cheer you up.

It is. It does.

I'm happy for you.

It's just Mercedes hasn't
texted me back in days,

and that's unlike her.

You're pining after
your fuck buddy?

She's not a fuck buddy.

Watch how you fucking
speak about her.

I'm not joking.

Okay.

But don't let that
girl get in your head

and force you to miss out
on a great opportunity.

Come on. Let's go celebrate.

Mmm, mm.

Dryston is back.

Shut up.

What did you say?

I told him that his
stuff is in storage.

I was changing the locks.

I'll pay him the deposit
and that I'm not moving.

Good for you.

You finally got Dryston
out of your life for good,

and it was about damn time.

Now I just have to come
clean to Miles about my name.

I've been avoiding him until
this Dryston stuff got sorted.

Real life is so much more
complicated than fiction.

I just want a real life romance.

You got this.

I've got nothing
except a full bladder.

I'm going to go pee
and get us refills.

Yes, please.

God damn, Katie.

Did you look this
good when I left?

Did you follow me here?

I didn't have to. It's
your favorite spot.

Oh, this is so typical.

What?

You come crawling into town

and think that you can
get whatever you want.

What?

I don't remember your
tits looking this good.

I need a refresher.

Don't be a pig, Dryston.

Don't be a bitch, Katie.

Ed, what's up, bro?

Dude, long time, no
see. How you been?

Yeah?

Miles, what are you doing here?

Here with my buddy.

What about you?

Oh. I'm here with Kate.
What are the odds?

Who's Kate?

I said your stuff is
in storage, Dryston.

You can be a real
bitch. You know that?

What the fuck did
you just call her?

- Excuse you?
- Excuse you.

I won't ask again.

This conversation has nothing
to do with you, wrench head.

Dryston.

You were the asshole at
Tire Depot the other day.

You know this fuckwit, Mercedes?

You think her name is Mercedes?

I was going to tell
you everything.

Tell me what? Who
the fuck is this guy?

He's no one.

No, no, I just live with you.

This is your gay roommate?

I didn't fuck her
like I was gay.

Miles, please let me explain.

Ooh!

Yeah, Katie, why
don't you explain?

Why is he calling you Katie?

Because that's her
real name, moron.

Mercedes is basically
the hooker name

she made up to write those
stupid, trashy books.

Call her a fucking name
again and you will regret it.

Miles, don't.

No, no. You can have
the trashy cunt.

She's not suitable for
mixed company anyway.

Oh!

Miles, I can explain.

Don't talk to me.

Miles, I need to explain.

What, Mercedes?

Or is it Katie?

It's Kate.

Explain why I punched
a guy in the face

for a girl whose name
I don't even know.

I was going to tell you.

After I fell in love with you?

I'm still the same
person, Miles.

I am just as much
Mercedes as I am Kate.

Then why fucking lie about it?

I don't know.
Because of my ex,

I got used to hiding
that part of myself.

But with you, I've
never had to, not once.

Kate Smith is who I am

when I'm not telling
people what I do.

And what happened
with your sister,

that's something that's
never happened to me before.

You lied to me.

Even when you knew
about my past.

You had plenty of
chances to open up.

Do you know what a
fucking idiot I feel like

for calling you
Mercedes all this time?

Every time we had sex...

I'm a joke to you.

You are not a joke.

I am.

I'm sorry.

I got carried away.

I liked you so much.

I've always liked you as more
than friends with benefits.

And I thought that I
could be this cool,

casual Mercedes with
no strings attached,

but the truth is that I am just

plain old, boring Kate Smith,

who is totally falling
for you, Miles Hudson.

How can I even trust you?

You're just as bad as my ex.

I'm out, Kate, Mercedes,
whoever you are.

You can keep your
drama, your lies,

keep living your life as your
author name, your real name,

with your boyfriend,
your ex-gay boyfriend.

This is officially
the end of our story.

It's been two weeks.

Oh, stop. He was upset.

You made him feel like a fool.

He'll get over it.

He's not returning
any of my calls.

That's because you haven't
made your grand gesture yet.

Grand gesture?

Mm-hmm.

This is really good, Dean.

- Oh, thank you.
- What grand gesture?

Kate, you write this stuff.
Now you have to live it.

You need to make a grand gesture

that shows your hero
that you care deeply.

While you know that
you fucked up royally,

you still know him.

You know him and care about him,

and the grandness of
this gesture proves it.

Wow, that was a mouthful.

She's right, Kate.

He cares about you,
but it's got to be big.

Any ideas?

Yeah, turn
here. Turn here.

There's no turn.
The map is wrong.

We lost service
like 10 minutes ago.

Ugh!

It's literally on 14 percent.

Do we have a charger?

You've got to drive!

Yes!

That's it, right
there. Right there.

We'll be right here.

You got this.

Mom's worried about you.

What?

You haven't emailed
in two weeks.

You know you do
it like clockwork.

Why are you calling so early?

Is Joss there?

No. Why would you think that?

I don't know.

Mom and I thought you might
have gotten back together

and didn't want to tell us.

It's not Joss.

I've been seeing
that author girl.

Oh, man. I didn't realize
you were seeing her.

I'm not.

I mean, I was,
but it's over now.

Why?

Because she lied to
me about some shit.

And I'm not bringing that
noise back into my life.

Been there, done that.

Don't think that every
girl that isn't perfect

is like Jocelyn.

Look, I don't know this
girl, but I do know you.

And you sounded so
crazy happy that night

you called me to talk about her.

I was.

Dude, I called Mom
the very next day

to tell her about how
different you sounded.

We were excited.

Seriously?

Yeah, Joss was the worst.
You were moody for years.

This girl makes you
happy, true or false?

True.

Then sometimes a little noise
in your life is a good thing.

When did you get so
fucking insightful?

When I started
waking up earlier.

Grand gesture.

This can't be from your Caddy.

It's not.

It's the carburetor
that Miles needs

to get his grandpa's
truck running.

Could you give it to him but not
tell him it's from me, please?

Are you kidding me?

This thing cost a
shitload of money.

Where'd you find it?

Scottish footballer named Mack

who lives in a creepy
house in the mountains.

What?

Anyway, why don't you
give it to him yourself?

Because I don't want
him back like that.

- Kate.
- Yeah?

You know, Miles paid my
uncle every single week

you were here, right?

He what?

My uncle owns this place.

And Miles worked
out a deal with him

to look the other way when
you came in all the time.

Thought I was flying
under the radar.

Eh, nah.

Definitely not.

Total book boyfriend moment.

What?

Nothing.

Where's Miles?

Outside stacking tires.

Go put him out of his misery.

Are you sure?

Yes, please, for
the love of God, go.

What are you doing here?

Do you know what this is?

Looks like a carburetor.

Do you know for what
kind of vehicle?

I can't tell from here.

It's a 1965 Ford F100.

Where did you get it?

It's kind of a long, crazy story

that included a rattlesnake.

But I'm hoping it
has a great ending.

What kind of ending?

The kind where you let
me apologize for lying.

I'm not your ex, Miles.

I am Kate Smith.

From Longmont, Colorado.

Whose ex technically
still lived with her

until she changed
the locks on him.

Who is not some brave,
erotic romance author

who's cool with kink
and casual relationships

and using a mechanic
for book research.

I am just a girl...

who's been falling
in love with a guy

who works at Tire Depot

who would really just
like to go home with him

and take a frickin' shower.

I like your ending so
much better than mine.

Have I just been upgraded

from book boyfriend
to real boyfriend?

Yes.

And I can firmly say it
was worth the wait, Miles.

All right.

Here you go.

Thank you, thank you.

- For you.
- Yes!

Oh, I love it.

Kate, I hate this picture.

Do you like it?

I love it.