“Says the queen of the perfect chokehold escape.”
“That took me three seasons to learn. In your case, following Johansson’s workout plan won’t help you get over your fear of water.”
“Maybe it will. Lawrence would’ve done the stunt herself. Any other serious actress would have committed to the role fully. I’m not going to be the exception.”
“Does committing to the role fully include the celibacy part?” Cleo teases.
“It’s for inner warrior focus! Ancient samurai did it!”
“Suuure. Speaking of focus,” Cleo sings, “I read there’s a certain someone on set who could make things interesting.”
“Dante Hastings?” I scoff.
“Wow, you sure did say his name fast.”
“No,” I protest. “You brought him up.”
“I could’ve been talking about any cast member. But please, continue.”
I scowl. I should drop the conversation right here, but I need to vent about this. “He was so unprofessional. Showed up late, didn’t know his lines, and spent the entire table read trying to chat me up.”
“Scandalous!” Cleo gasps dramatically. “What did he say?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t listening,” I fib again.
It’s completely unfair how he towered over everyone with that insufferably relaxed attitude, like he owned the room. And that stupid chipped black nail polish should look sloppy. It should be a red flag. And yet, it isn’t.
But I refuse to be affected. I absolutely refuse.
“Yet here you are thinking about it,” Cleo continues.
“It’s only because he sat next to me,” I explain. “I did my research on him. The Olympian. The Sheriff. The Alleged Master Swordsman.”
The way he placed that half-bitten, shiny red apple next to me.Terrible manners of me. Should’ve offered to share.I sat there, staring at it like he was the wicked witch in Snow White, tempting me with poison fruit.
And honestly, in a near lapse of self-control, I thought about taking a bite.
“Master swordsman, huh?”
“Yes, and now he’s somehow part of the stunt consultation team. Which doesn’t make sense considering his fencing involves those tiny toothpicks. Those aren’t exactly real swords.”
“Since when do you know anything about fencing?”
“I don’t,” I admit. “Okay, I watched one video.”
And it was…hot. Fitted white uniforms. The sweat after the masks are pulled off. The groans. The speed.
Stop thinking about it!
Cleo groans. “Girl, you can just admit that he caught your eye. Everyone watched him and his teammates at the Olympics four years ago. And listen, I never had a hand kink before, but those fencer’s hands—”
“Oh my heavens, don’t even remind me. At the table read, he wore these silver rings that kept catching the light and distracting me.”
Knowing my luck, he’ll park himself next to me tomorrow too. I need to arrive early and sit between two people, create a barricade.
“Rings, you say? Takes a certain kind of man to pull that off.”
“I just don’t understand how he got the role of the sheriff,” I continue. “He’s the only one who’s not in the industry out of the entire cast.”
