I checked my email but still hadn’t heard from Kate since her photo from the makeup chair that made me grin and get my shit together earlier. She hadn’t mentioned the fight with Pete, but that wasn’t surprising. She rarely discussed their relationship. She also hadn’t mentioned anything about her confrontation with Charlie, and, pathetically, I found that more troubling. I was prickling with the idea that she kept things from me. And then I berated myself for getting jealous of myself. I was the biggest bloody idiot on the planet.
This was why I needed to come clean if I was going to continue to talk to her. The secrets had to end. The lines were getting tangled.
And then what would happen? She’d storm off set. The gossips would sell our exchanges to the highest bidder.
Bloody hell. It was just one interview. We’d go our separate ways. She’d go back to her trashcan fire of a boyfriend, and I would stop the emails. Iwouldget my feelings for her under control.
This internal dialogue felt oddly similar to the way I would justify having just one drink in the past. One drink that led to twenty that led to blacking out. I pushed away the familiar thoughts before they snaked into self-recrimination and guilt over the past. My therapist had taught me to catch many of those thoughts before I got stuck in a never-ending loop.
I’d signed my last reply “love.” Since we did that now. She’d sent selfies before, usually goofy ones or her holding a book she wanted me to read, but I’d never asked for one. Saying “love” was absolutely a new threshold.
And as if the gods heard my thoughts, in she walked. I noticed that anytime she came near, I forgot how to breathe. I sucked in a steadying breath and forced myself into a relaxed position even though I wanted to bounce up and greet her like a golden retriever. Her hair was in its signature style but with more height, and her makeup was understated save a bright red pop of lipstick. Kate could be in any state of dress and still be the most captivating person in the room.
Her eyes found mine and stayed there as she crossed to join me. And that made me feel a thousand feet tall. When she finally had to look away so as not to trip on camera wires, I took the opportunity to study the simple black dress that clung alluringly to her hips. This was neither of the options she’d sent pictures of, and it felt like a gift to learn something new, something RC hadn’t known.
“Hi,” she said breathily as she sat down across from me in the lounge area of the dormitory set. She gave a little wave of her fingers.
“Hi,” I smiled back.
We stared at each other again. Did she notice how often we did that? Or did it only feel like a lot because every time our eyes met, I mentally hoarded the moment into a glass case in my mind for the future.In case of emergency, break glass and remember you aren’t so alone.
“Flashcards. Phew.” She held up the question prompts they gave us. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”
“Doubtful,” I mumbled.
“Huh?” She looked up from where she’d been squinting at the first card, holding it close to her face.
“Viviana,” I called, and the PA was at my side in an instant. “Can you go ask wardrobe where Miss Dubois’s glasses are?”
Viviana stepped away with a nod, speaking into the microphone at her neck.
“How did you know?” Kate raised an eyebrow.
“You had them earlier. Before makeup,” I lied smooth as butter.
“Oh. Yeah. They didn’t want me to wear them because of the glare.”
“They’ll figure it out. You need to be able to read. Unless they want the cards blocking your face the whole time,” I said.
“Maybe it’ll be better that way.”
I frowned.
“I mean, it could be my schtick,” she said. “Like Wilson fromHome Improvement. Add to the mystique.”
“Why would you want to hide?” I asked flatly.
Set crew moved around us, holding light meters next to our faces, then adjusting furniture to frame us better.
“Oh.” Her mouth formed a perfect little heart shape every time she made that sound of surprise. “I don’t. I mean—I’m not ashamed but, you know, it makes some people uncomfortable.” She tucked her hair behind her ear.
“What does?” I asked. I leaned forward, elbows on knees so I could hear her better with all the people moving around us.
She mirrored me and leaned forward too. “Um, my writing. Some people think it’s like cheating. Or not real writing. Because the characters were created by someone else.”
“They’re wrong.” She was close enough that I could smell her sweet scent under whatever hair products they’d used on her. “And probably jealous.”
Her large brown eyes moved over my face, and she shrugged with a quick smile. “Maybe. So many people think it’s just about sex, but it’s not like that.” She waved her hand, but the second she registered what she’d said, a flush spread over her creamy collarbone. “I mean, granted. There is a fair amount of it in a lot of fan fiction. And sure, even in mine.” She laughed nervously, using the cards to fan her face. “Foot in mouth …”
