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I can’t stop thinking about her.
I pull myself out of bed, peeling back the covers and sitting at the edge with my elbows resting on my knees, my phone between my hands. My thumbs hover over Ellie’s number.
Me:Good morning, Ellie. This is Rhylan.
I text her, starting a brand-new text message thread on my phone.
I don’t wait for a response. Instead, I trudge to the bathroom and quickly wash up before the temptation of my warm bed takes over and I forgo leaving the house altogether. Once I’m dressed, I walk back to my nightstand and see a notification on my phone, Ellie’s name written in bold across my screen.She texted me back.
Ellie:Good morning.
So sweet and simple. It almost feels too easy, these early morning greetings to start our day. Following them withwhat did you have for lunchconversations orI hate LA trafficrants, occurring as if we’ve been doing it for years. Expecting her to remain a part of my life in a way that feels natural and routine.Too easy.
Me:Are you free today?
I fought all night with the demons that told me to get real, snap out of it, and stop acting like a lovesick teenager. And I came to the teetering conclusion: What if? What if I decide to let my heart lead the way, and I’m actually happy? What if when I decide to let Ellie in, I find a home that I never knew could exist?
Ellie:I have class until about noon. And then I’m free the rest of the day.
She adds a little smiling emoji at the end of her message.
Me:Perfect. I’ll have someone to pick you up at your house. Is 1 p.m. okay?
The three dots indicating that she’s tapping out her message pop up and then disappear. Maybe I’m being too forward. Maybe I should have waited a couple of days to see her. We were together not even twenty-four hours ago, and I’m already texting her like an overzealous teenager with raging hormones. And then, just as I brood over my impatient and eager texting etiquette, my phone buzzes, indicating a new message.
Ellie:Sure. 1 sounds good.
I sigh out a breath of relief. I was starting to actually feel like that overzealous teenager. My emotions are all over the place, and I’m feeling more anxious than usual with the anticipation of seeing Ellie again. I literally have not felt like this since high school. I usually have a more blasé approach to women, just seeing what happens and letting things take their course naturally. But this is different.
When I check the time, it’s almost nine a.m.Shit!I was so busy texting Ellie and waiting for her to respond, I haven’t even realized the time had passed.
The short drive to Levi’s office has turned into a long one because of the rush hour traffic, heavy with 9 to 5’ers heading into their offices.The thick layer of white sheets bound together sits on the passenger seat. I peer down and see the bold letters in the center of the front page.Aurielle. When I try to decide what I want my next move to be, my mind keeps coming back to this project.
My car is greeted by the valet, and I hop in the elevator right off the main lobby, remaining silent as I wait to get off on the twenty-second floor.
My feet lightly hit the marble floor as the sound of ringing telephones greets me. It’s busy and hectic, but I snake my way to Levi’s office. I’m greeted by his assistant who’s frantic but calm, as I’m sure Levi has stressed that she is to never look frazzled and always be in control, no matter what shit storm has hit her.
“I don’t really have an appointment, but Levi knows I’m coming to see him today.”
She looks up at me, cordial and professional. “Of course, Mr. Matthews.” She promptly picks up her phone to dial Levi. “He’ll see you right away,” she informs me and gestures towards the entrance of his office.
Levi is pacing the span of his office, earpiece glued to the side of his face. He quickly whispers something to whomever is on the other side of the call, something along the lines of “got to go” before he hangs up the call.
“Rhylan! How’s it going?” he exclaims. He’s hectic, always shooting question after question, never waiting for an answer. He’s the definition of the old saying “time is money.”
I hesitate a moment, stuttering through my answer. “I–I’m good.” I fidget with the script in my hand, curling the edges along my thumb. I feel nervous, but Levi doesn’t seem to notice.
“Great! Hey, so I heard some buzz onUnrestrained,and it’s sounding good and loud.” He claps his hands in excitement. “This might be your year for that Oscar nom. Or at least another People’s Choice.”
I nod. “Richard was still sounding pretty pushy about his project yesterday. Have you reconsidered?”
He shakes his head. “I know, but, like I said before, we need to take a step back and decide what we really want. WithUnrestrainedbeing such a success, we need to make sure we choose your next project wisely.”
“That’s actually why I’m here,” I respond. My voice is shaky as my hold on the script grows firm. As if by treating it carelessly, it would misinterpret my intent. He looks at me, brows raised with skepticism and curiosity. “I wanted to talk to you about this.”
I place the thick script on his glass desk. The wordAuriellein large block letters sits dead center, facing him.
“What is this?” he asks.
