I suck in a deep breath because this might be the only minute of the day we’re alone. If we’re going to talk, this is the time to do it, and I want to clear the air at least so we can be professional. Really, I do. Even if the mere sight of him has stopped all brain function and I’m no longer able to produce words.
“Grayson, I...”
“Okay, guys, time to get set up.” The door swings open, and the publicist gestures for us to follow her. “We’ve got a tight schedule, and we need to stay on it.”
She takes us to a room down the hall where two director’s chairs have been set up in front of theNo Reservationsposter. Fortunately, the team was able to grab enough still frames from the footage that we didn’t have to pose for any photos. Looking at the images of us clearly happy and in love is a knife to the heart.
I hop into my chair after a cursory glance. Another chair sits opposite us, waiting to be filled by a carousel of reporters from every major entertainment outlet in the country, along with ample space for each of them to set up their video cameras.
The publicist is rattling off some probably highly important instructions, but I’m so tuned in to Grayson as he sinks into his own chair that I don’t even hear her. There are a few inches between our armrests, but when both of our arms are actually settled, I can feel the heat of him. I pull my arm into my lap, clasping my hands together instead. He shifts in his seat, moving as far away from me as he can.
After opening the door for the first reporter, the publicist scoots into the hall to let the torture commence. I plaster a fake smile on my face as the questions begin.
“So, Grayson, what was it like shooting your first rom-com?”
He clears his throat. “It was great. Different, of course. But great.”
The reporter nods and waits an awkward beat for him to expand. When he doesn’t, she turns her attention to me. “Emmy, what was it like for you being in front of the camera for the first time in more than a decade?”
“It was—uh—it was really—really fun. A great experience.”
“Great.” The poor reporter looks between the two of us like she must be missing something. “How was it working together?”
“It was great,” we both say at the same time.
When her time is up, she steps out of the room with asigh of relief and reporter number two comes in, only to repeat basically the exact same questions. We deliver the exact same stilted answers with the exact same fake smiles, and the cycle rolls on and on and on.
I don’t even know how long we’ve been sitting in these chairs, but my body aches and my stomach is rumbling and I’m tired and cranky and sitting this close to Grayson is making me tense and, admittedly, horny.
“Last one for the day, guys,” the publicist finally announces, holding the door open and ushering in our final torturer.
He gives us both a wide smile and his name, which I promptly forget. His first few questions are variations of what we’ve been asked all day, but after our standard answers, he turns his attention solely toward Grayson. “So congratulations are in order with the news of your potential casting inBeautiful Water.”
Grayson tenses a little, enough that I can feel it. “Thank you. I’m honored to be in consideration to be part of such an amazing project.”
“I think there were a lot of people who were surprised when you were announced as one of the final contenders, given the character is a recovering addict. Lots of facing the demons from one’s past. The role will be quite emotional, I’m certain.” The reporter smiles, as if that might distract from the bitchiness of his not-question.
I clasp my hands together tightly because I’m tempted to reach a hand out to Grayson’s.
“I’m sure it will be,” he responds without a hit of malice. “But I’m up for the challenge.”
“Rumor has it you’re also being considered for the nextMarvel movie. That seems like a project that would be more in your wheelhouse. Don’t you think that would be a better fit?”
I roll my eyes, but no one seems to notice.
“I’m also honored to be mentioned in talks with Marvel, but I wouldn’t have auditioned for the role inBeautiful Waterif I didn’t think I was well suited for it.” Grayson’s fingers tighten around the armrest.
“Well, sometimes we aren’t really the best judge of ourselves. This will be quite a step up fromHostile Hostages, or evenNo Reservations.”
I’m not sure who put this guy on the press list, but they’ll be receiving an angry phone call from me later. Who the hell does he think he is? I peek at Grayson out of the corner of my eye, waiting for him to put this guy in his place. Instead, I watch him shrink before my eyes, curling in on himself like this reporter is making valid points instead of making a complete ass of himself.
This jackass poises his pen on top of his notepad like he’s about to jot down an answer to his bullshit questions. “What makes you think you could play the part? Are you qualified for a role that requires such profound depth and emotion?”
“Are you kidding me with this shit?” The words burst out of me before I have the chance to stop and think about them. “First of all, you have no right to speak to anyone that way. Are you suddenly more qualified than the team of professional casting directors who decided to put Grayson up for this role? No. And second of all, if you have ever watched a Grayson West movie, you know how talented he is. It’s so easy to deride and shame, but the truth of thematter is that action movies and rom-coms are hard fucking work. It takes real skill to portray these characters genuinely, and Grayson does it better than literally anyone else out there. Not only that, but he is extremely well-rounded as a performer, not to mention a supremely empathetic and kind person, which I’m sure is more than anyone has ever said about you.”
I realize I’m halfway out of my seat only when Grayson’s hand lands on my forearm, steadying me, guiding me back into my chair. I shoot him a grateful look, but his eyes are on his lap. I glare at the reporter. “Any further questions?”
“Uh, no, that’s all.” He hops out of his chair, grabs his camera, and scurries out of the room.
