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9
Beingthe chicken shit I am, after seeing the desire in Eli’s eyes, I ran into the bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it behind me. I thought I could be strong, but I was wrong. I want to be but I’m not. I want to have confidence in something outside of my job, but it’s hard when you’ve been torn in two.
What scared me the most, though, is how it felt when he looked at me. No one has ever looked at me like that before.
His usually light baby blues had turned dark, heated. His jaw was set, teeth clenched. His gorgeous smile was a thin line, his lips pressed together as his eyes roamed. As if the perfect storm was brewing in those eyes as they raked over my body in appreciation of what he saw.
The sensation warmed my skin, made me ache for his touch, but I did what I always do. I hid. For the next thirty minutes while I finished curling my hair and put on my makeup. Then I sat on the toilet in the bathroom for an extra five minutes, mentally preparing for the rest of the evening.
As I wrapped the flowery dress I picked out for tonight around my body, securing it at the waist with a bow, I closed my eyes and prayed I wouldn’t trip and fall in his presence. That we wouldn’t run into anyone from the production team after dinner. I didn’t want anyone to see us and get the wrong idea. Or the right idea, depending on how you look at the situation.
I just needed tonight to be as quiet and low-key as possible.
As expected, since he gave me fair warning, Eli was the perfect gentleman as we walked down to the banquet hall at the resort. He held doors open for me, guided me through the room with one hand while waving at our co-workers with the other.
No one spared us a second glance.
No one stared in our direction when they saw us together.
In fact, it was almost as if no one seemed to notice.
Us being here together doesn’t seem out of place, though. It’s just another day. Another event. We’re both part of the movie, and to be in the same space, although closer than normal, isn’t out of the ordinary.
“You look beautiful tonight, Taylor,” he says as he pulls out a chair for me at a small table in the corner. There are high and low tables scattered around the area. Servers are floating around with cocktails and hors d’oeuvres on trays, moving from person to person with ease.
It appears most of the cast and crew are here tonight. We’re a group of about seventy, but a lot of the crew brought their significant others with them, making for a larger crowd than I was expecting. The only people that seem to be missing are the Mean Girls Club as I’ve taken to calling them
Zoe, Kate, and their leader, Celia.
Not that I’m complaining. Celia is required to be on this trip but the other two are here because they came on their own. Just like they’ll more than likely be in Seattle and Napa Valley even though they have no reason to be. All of Zoe’s scenes are filmed on set. And Kate … she’s riding Celia’s coattails as far as I can tell. Which I don’t understand considering Celia isn’t all that great.
Their absence tonight brings a smile to my face. I’m on edge whenever any of them are around. I was hoping for a reprieve, and so far, it appears I’m going to get one.
For now, at least.
Scanning the room, it’s interesting to see my colleagues in a more relaxed environment. No one’s screaming or rushing around. Instead of appearing stressed and exhausted, they all look refreshed. Happy. Even Ansen. I’ve never seen him smile, not once, yet with a drink in his right hand, surrounded by a small group, there’s a hint of one on his face.
“Something to drink?” I hear a small, female voice ask.
Peeling my eyes away from Ansen as he begins talking animatedly with his hands, I give her my full attention. “Um, sure. I’ll have a White Russian, tall, and if you can have the bartender add a shot of Rumchata to it I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course. For you, sir?” she asks, turning her attention to Eli.
“I’ll have a water, no lemon or anything. Thanks.”
“Water?” I ask after the waitress rushes off to get our drinks.
“I want to keep a clear head while we’re here,” he explains, motioning around the room. “I’ll have a drink when we’re alone.”
Eli and I make small talk as we wait for dinner to be served. I learn more about him in the twenty minutes we talk than I expected I would. He’s an open book, unashamed of where he came from or where he wants to go. It’s humbling.
“My parents don’t approve but I knew they wouldn’t when I made the decision to leave home. My father works hard to put food on the table. I respect that, I always have, but he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. I don’t want to struggle the way I watched my parents struggle as I was growing up. And when I finally start making money, I plan to make sure they never struggle again.”
“Even though they refuse to talk to you?” I ask, taking a bite of the jalapeno-glazed salmon I’ve been picking at the last hour.
“Yeah. I get why they’re mad. They relied on me to help with my little brothers, but I was selfish. I wanted this so bad, and I was convinced I could make it. It hasn’t been easy but it’s getting easier every day. I’m hoping they’ll forgive me.”
“Forgive you? For what? Leaving? For having a dream and not being afraid to chase it? Don’t you think you should be the one holding on to animosity, not them?”
