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5
Eli’s leaning in close.His sky-blue eyes piercing me. I can feel his breath against my lips as I close my eyes. His large hands squeezing my hips in an attempt to maintain control. The moment seems to take forever, and just as his lips are about to brush against mine, a loud beeping sounds startles me. My body jerks forward, my forehead slamming into his nose.
But I don’t feel anything.
The beeping grows louder as I open my eyes and find him watching me, a slow smirk spreading across his face.
“See you in a little bit,” he says.
Then he’s gone.
My eyes pop open and I’m sitting up in bed. My bedroom is pitch black, letting me know it’s still early. The sound of my alarm blaring next to me is announcing the start of a new day.
Reaching blindly, I silence the noise and fall back against the mountain of pillows I sleep with every night. One to snuggle with. One for my head. Two that are decorative, but I never throw off my bed like most people.
My eyes feel heavy as I stare up at my ceiling, trying to analyze why I was dreaming about Eli. Again.
Was it because he was the last person I talked to before I went to sleep?
Is it because I spent the day with him yesterday?
Or is it the fact that I’m attracted to him?
I’m guessing it’s the last reason much to my dismay.
And lucky me—that’s pure sarcasm—I get to spend the next fourteen hours in his presence. Watching him film no less than two love scenes with Celia. Scenes I was happy he didn’t ask me to run lines with him for yesterday. I didn’t even realize until long after he was gone that we had skipped over the scenes. He must have known it would have made me uncomfortable.
That and I’m a horrible actress. Well, not horrible, but I don’t enjoy it. My bigger concern is that he would have seen right through me if we’d had any intimate scenes. Every emotion, every feeling, would have been real and I wouldn’t have been able to hide it.
Which would have made my life even more complicated than it’s become in the last seven days since starting this job.
You’re a professional.
Right. And as a professional, I can set my personal feelings aside and get the job done. Which means I need to stop thinking about Eli Simms, stop worrying about the way he makes me feel, and focus on the task at hand.
Currently that would be getting out of bed. Dressing myself. Picking up coffee for the growing list of people I seem to be working for. And then bringing said coffee to the set.
My new morning routine.
Deliver coffees and call sheets. Ensure catering is set up for lunch. Stay one step ahead of Ansen and close by in case he needs something.
Water needs to be available and stocked at all times.
Snacks at the ready, including caramel corn. Though I’m not sure why since no one seems to touch it but it’s on the list.
Three clean, white T-shirts for when Ansen sweats through them.
A stick of deodorant. Also for Ansen.
The man is an enigma but at the same time, he’s somewhat predictable, even after only a week. It took me three days before I was able to figure out his quirks, but now that I have, I feel more confident.
As I pull through the gates of Spotlight Studios, the sun is just beginning to make its appearance over the horizon in my rearview mirror, temporarily blinding me as I round the corner. Tilting my mirror so the sun isn’t glaring in my eyes, I slam on my brakes when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.
Rather than see, I hear the slosh of coffee and I pray I didn’t spill Ansen’s. I don’t give a shit about anyone else. If his is the one currently soaking into the floorboards of my car, I’ll have to speed back to the coffee shop.
Leaning over to check the damage, I find only one coffee cup is on its side.
Mine.
