"Parker, you okay?" Gary asks.
I sigh, pained and secretly heartbroken. "Gary, please call me Andrew. I can't—"
Gary throws his head back, laughing. "Say no more, I'm so sorry... Andrew."
"Why am I being signed on?"
Gary looks at me like I've sprouted a second head. "Why?! Andrew, you're the only one who didn't steal the spotlight, walk out, or have a breakdown. The last guy punched Vince in the face, delaying us for weeks. You had us scared. I thought you'd deck him. Vince is hilarious but wicked smart, knows exactly what buttons to push in five minutes. He's a great guy really, goes camping with me and Frank. But he plays a hell of a douchebag."
I stare blankly, struggling to keep up.
"Look," Gary sighs, "It seems like Vince likes you. You stood your ground without stealing the spotlight. You didn't take his bait personally. The comedic chemistry between you is there. Plus, you're a gold mine for edits. Oh my God."
"What edits?"
"Your facial expressions." Gary clutches his stomach, laughing. "They're hilarious. The editors will love you."
A knot forms in my stomach.
I know I'll be the laughing stock, and I already have this unrequited attraction to Vince. This can't end well.
But the job has an end date, and it pays just enough to scrape by for months.
The honest truth? I have to see Vince again. Even if he was just acting, he disarmed me completely. I want to know the real him, everything about him. I need to.
I sign the contract, sealing my fate. I sign away months for rent money, for Gary's antics, for being the crew's joke, for twelve-hour days. I sign off on flirting—sorry, joking around—with Vince on camera.
Something deep in my gut tells me I'm making the right decision, though my brain screams to run. There's excitement bubbling, curiosity, and if I'm honest. A glimmer of hope.
The old me wouldn't recognize this version signing away months of his life. That Andrew would still be holed up, using Alaskan weather as an excuse for his stalled life.
For the first time in years, I'm not numb. I'm not that depressed shut-in avoiding human interaction. I want to feel it all. I want to fee the anxiety, the attraction, the humiliation of being called Bo Peep on national television.
I'm ready for it. I think.
Chapter 3
The Routine of Survival
Andrew
OnMonday,Iwakeup one solid minute before my alarm at 4:59 a.m. I lie there, staring at the darkness of my ceiling, inhaling a slow, deep breath as my eyes trace the familiar nooks and crannies above me. The shadows dance across the textured surface, creating patterns that my sleep-addled brain tries to make sense of. It's a small ritual, this moment before the day begins, a pocket of stillness in a life that's been anything but still lately.
I've been in this apartment for weeks, yet it still looks like I'd just moved in yesterday. Boxes line the walls like cardboard soldiers standing guard over my half-hearted attempts tounpack, abandoned long ago when the reality of my new life in Los Angeles hit me full force. Living out of them has become my system, a chaotic method that somehow works for me. It's not the orderly existence I once imagined for myself, but it's what's keeping me afloat in this city that never seems to slow down.
I know I should get up and use the sixty-second head start to prepare for the day ahead, to face whatever challenges this new job will throw at me, but instead, I savor the quiet. Ever since I packed up my life and moved to LA, things have been moving at a breakneck pace, the kind that leaves me dizzy but exhilarated. It's a stark contrast to the frozen stillness of Alaska, where days blurred into weeks and weeks into months with little to distinguish one from the other.
I love it, though... Being busy. The constant motion, the endless stream of new faces and experiences, the way each day feels different from the last. It's terrifying and thrilling all at once, like standing at the edge of a cliff and knowing you have to jump, but not being entirely sure what awaits you at the bottom. For the first time in years, I don't feel like I'm just surviving—I feel like I'm actually living.
This was exactly what I'd hoped for when I took the leap, figuring I'd land on my feet somehow. But landing a TV role? That still doesn't feel real. Is this seriously my life right now?
Gary laughed at me yesterday, calling it common sense when I asked how I even got hired. I still don't understand it. My "performance" wasn't calculated or intentional... just me, fumbling my way through, letting Vince take the lead. Maybe that's what they wanted. Either way, I'm not complaining.
For the sake of paying my rent for the next few months, I'm glad they found me. Bewildered, but grateful. Gary mentioned how editing would change a lot of the show. Seeing how things work behind the scenes is eye-opening, if a little weird.
My thoughts drift to Vince. He has a nice smile. I always thought the phrase "captivating smile" was a cheesy cliché, but Vince actually has it. By the end of last night, I couldn't help smiling whenever he did.
I want to know more about him.
