Page 19 of Unscripted with Mila

He glanced at my pass, frowning. “Why does that say visitor?”

“Lost my other one.”

He drained his cup, tossing it in the bin beside him. “I need another one of those, Shortcake.”

“Too much caffeine isn’t good for you. Maybe a juice? A water?”

He frowned. “Coffee, little gofer. Now.”

I rolled my eyes and, because I was an idiot, got him another one. He watched me walk toward him, his head tilted as if studying me. I handed him the cup, feeling nervous. Was something familiar about my walk? Did he recognize me?

“Stay close,” he demanded. “I’m going to need lots of these today.”

“The other ones can’t be that bad. Just tell them how you want it.” I cleared my throat. “Politely.”

“Are you suggesting I’m rude?”

“Snippy is a good word. Demanding. Impatient. They all work.”

“If you like your job, I suggest you shut up,” he said, trying to look angry, but failing. His lips were quirking in amusement. “Or try being a writer. I hear that pays well.”

A small laugh escaped me, and he sat up straighter. “Come closer,” he demanded.

“I have to go. I have things to do.”

He frowned, beginning to rise from the chair. “I said, come here.”

I turned and ran. Dodging through equipment, people, and moving fast. I heard his bellowed, “Shortcake!” but I ignored it.

He recognized my laugh. He wasn’t sure from where, but he knew it. And it was only a matter of time before he knew for certain I was the same woman he had kissed in the pool last night.

And I wasn’t sure what he would do when he figured it out.

* * *

Luckily, Andi was waiting for me, and we left the set. I spent the afternoon wandering some stores while Andi was busy. I bought gifts for my mom and Cami, as well as my other aunts. My driver waited outside each store, taking my few bags and stowing them in the trunk. It was warm, the sun bright, and on impulse, I bought a pretty, floppy hat—the brim wide enough to shade my face and shoulders. I paused outside a store, staring at a dress that caught my eye. It was incredible. The softest shade of yellow, it flowed and swirled in the gentle breeze of the fan that blew on the mannequin. The bodice was a halter, with beading that caught the light and glittered. The skirt was full and jagged, layers of material ranging from the pale, creamy yellow to a brilliant orange at the very last layer, with some sort of glittering fabric hidden within the tiers. It reminded me of a beautiful sunrise.

I was tempted. I peeked in the store, looking around nervously. I pushed open the door and stepped inside, the cool air welcome. An older, skillfully made-up woman approached me.

“The dress in the window?” She smiled. “I saw you admiring it.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Would you like to try it on?” She studied me for a moment. “The color would look striking on you.”

I took in a deep breath. “Please.”

* * *

The next morning, Andi came into my room, coffee in hand, talking on her phone. I had spent the night writing, hiding in my room, refusing to look at the pool. Not giving in to the temptation of going to see if he was there. It was a dangerous game I was playing. I had barely slept, and I felt tired and emotional.

Andi hung up and frowned at me. “Kiddo, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You are as white as a sheet. Have you slept at all? You pulled another all-nighter?”

“I’m fine. I was writing, and time got away from me.” I shrugged, brushing off her concern. “I’ll sleep later. Give me five minutes. I need to finish getting dressed.”