Off Script

by Anna Paige

  “Lucky for you, I do.” I reached down and traced his rigid length with my fingertip before pointing to the door to the master bathroom. “Middle drawer. I’ll use the guest bath and start the coffee. Meet back here in ten?”

  He cupped my breast and disappeared beneath the sheet. He replaced his hand with his mouth for one long, vigorous suck on my slightly raw nipple before ducking out of the bed. “Try to make it closer to five. I’m starving and I plan to have you for breakfast.”

  I brushed my teeth while making the coffee to save time.

  Gavin

  “This was a mistake. All of this was a huge mistake.”

  The tension in the air was thick as we both paced the room, circling each other.

  “Maybe, but it’s too late to go back now. You can’t undo what’s already done.”

  Kaiti looked up, teary-eyed. “I didn’t ask for this. It’s all too much.”

  I held up a hand, the pages of this week’s script held tight in the other. “Maybe a little less weepy and a little more desolate? Use your physical cues. Drop your shoulders like the weight of the world is on them, pour emotion into your tone. Make me feel it without the water works because those are definitely more suited for later in the scene.”

  She blew out a breath and nodded, blinking away the moisture in her eyes. “Good point.”

  “How’d you figure out how to cry on command so damn fast, anyway?” I asked, impressed. The aforementioned tears had tugged at my heart, even knowing they weren’t real.

  She shrugged. “We’re supposed to draw on our own experiences to add emotional depth, right? That’s what I did.”

  The words were nonchalant but something in her stance shifted and I saw a flash of a small, wounded girl.

  “Any experience in particular?” I couldn’t help asking, though I was already aware of her background. From the way she’d been acting, I didn’t think she remembered everything she’d told me that first night. And I didn’t want to bring it up, in case she did remember and just wanted to pretend she hadn’t said anything.

  I’ll take Lose-Lose Situations for two-hundred, Alex.

  She laid her script on the coffee table and reached for her glass of ice water. I did the same. Sipping slowly and silently, I waited her out because I could tell she was working up the courage to answer.

  When she set her glass down, she gave me a small smile. “Foster care. If ever there was a situation that made me feel like I didn’t belong, that was the one.”

  “How long?”

  “Eight years. Almost a dozen different homes or group facilities.” Her fingers did that tapping pattern she usually broke into when she was stressing.

  “Then?”

  She realized what she was doing and stopped, rubbing her hands together like they were cold. “Then I was eighteen and they cut me loose.”

  “Didn’t you have any family to take you in?” She hadn’t mentioned any during her drunken admissions, but it seemed like a question I should ask.

  She shook her head and picked up her script. “This is a conversation for another time. We should get back to rehearsing these lines so I don’t suck.” Her forced laugh told me exactly how uncomfortable she was.

  “You didn’t suck last week or the week before that or the week before that. You were amazing. And you’ll be even better this week.”

  She just quirked a brow and gave me a look that suggested I was full of shit.

  “Even if you don’t totally rock it, there’s one irrefutably awesome moment coming this week.”

  “Which is?”

  “Meadow slaps the shit out of Warren, so you get to take a swipe at Michael, and that will make you the envy of the entire crew. We’ve all wanted to take a swing at him for ages.”

  She cringed. “I’m really not looking forward to that. With my luck, I’ll screw it up and accidentally hit him for real.”

  “It’s all timing. The choreographer will work with you before the scenes but I can give you some pointers now.” I motioned her over and stepped back so we were about arm’s length apart. Well, her arm’s length, anyway. My reach was considerably longer. “Okay, take a swing at me. Get as close as you can without actually touching me, and follow through all the way past my face.”

  She pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. “And you’ll jerk your head to the side in time with my swing?”

  “Yep. If it helps, try to swipe the tip of my nose at first and work our way closer until it looks like you’re slapping the side of my face.”

  I’d half expected her to balk at the idea of taking a swing at me, but then I remembered who I was dealing with. She was my no-fear girl. She wasn’t prone to backing down.

  We counted down from three and she swung, but our timing was off. I turned too soon and it left too much gap between her hand and my face. We tried a couple more times until we were in sync so that from a certain angle, it indeed looked like she’d slapped the piss out of me. She was so excited to have mastered it that we kept going for a few more runs.

  Until she accidentally clocked me so hard my ears rang.

  After that, we decided we’d done enough rehearsing for one day and crawled back in bed, where she more than made up for her ill-timed swing. Hell, I’d gladly suffer through another hit if it meant a repeat of her bedroom acrobatics.

  Totally worth the pain.

  Kaiti

  Gavin and I drove in together Monday morning since he’d stayed the night with me the previous two nights. He made no attempt to hide how much he preferred my place to his, and I liked that he felt at home in my apartment. He’d even started leaving hats and sunglasses laying around, like little breadcrumbs I could follow to find him. I really liked that, which was huge because I was so protective of my space. Hell, I could have shared Evie’s apartment with her but the idea of not having something that was entirely mine nixed that idea.

  His presence being a comfort instead of an anxiety trigger really said something.

  I was contemplating that and lingering over my coffee in the common area when Joey found me that morning. “We’ve decided to expand the fight between Meadow and Warren.” He handed me a single loose page that was meant to replace the original section of the script.

  I looked at it, noting that the dialog hadn’t changed but there were several paragraphs of physical description. “So, the lines are the same?”

  He nodded, tipping his head at Gavin as he walked over to see what we were talking about.

  Gavin in Tyler’s suit was mouth-wateringly hot. And distracting.

  “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” I asked Joey, forcibly tearing my gaze from Gavin’s perfect form.

  “I said the changes are mostly on Michael’s end. Warren no longer stands there and takes the slap. He’ll slap her back then snatch her up, gripping her shoulders and shaking the hell out of her before Tyler bursts in.” He gave Gavin a quick glance. “It’s a tactic to build the relationship between Tyler and Meadow.”

  Gavin quirked a brow. “So, they’ve decided to go ahead with that possible pairing?” He wasn’t looking at me, but there was a telltale curl of the left side of his mouth that told me he found it amusing.

  “As long as the chemistry works, I think it’ll be a great new layer to the storyline. Don’t you agree?” Joey gave me a reassuring smile, catching sight of my apprehensive expression. My stomach did a little flip as I considered the logistics of a romantic pairing on the show, shooting scenes on a crowded soundstage, being watched and posed and touched on camera. I must have been a little green because Joey felt the need to reassure me. “You’ll do great, so don’t worry. Gavin is a total pro, so you’ll be in good hands.”

  Gavin grinned at me, giving a quick nod.

  I was well aware of how good his hands were.

  Joey’s attention suddenly shifted to something being said through his headset. A moment later he was gone, off to troubleshoot a lighting issue.

  When I turned back to Gavin, something was of
f. His jaw was tense and his posture was rigid.

  “Hey, I’m the one who should be nervous here. I’m getting in a fight in a few minutes. So, what’s with the look?”

  He looked around for a moment as we stood side by side in the corridor, our backs to the wall. I figured he was going to say something flirty—maybe expand on the ‘good hands’ comment Joey had tossed out. Instead, he leaned over and whispered, “I’m trying to get my shit together. The idea of watching him put his hands on you like that is messing with me.”

  I almost laughed. “It’s not real. He’s not going to actually hit me, crazy.”

  “But he’s going to grab you, shake you, and he’s strong. What if he hurts you without meaning to?”

  “Like when I slapped the piss out of you practicing for this same scene?” I rolled my eyes at his protectiveness. “What if I accidentally clock him too? That’s the part I’m worried about. He’s done enough acting that I’m confident he knows what he’s doing. Me? Not so much.”

  “Still…”

  I resisted the urge to kiss him, but only just. “You worry too much. It’ll be fine.”

  “It better fucking be.”

  The choreographer pulled Michael and me aside a few minutes later. We practiced the scuffle half a dozen times, and each time it went more smoothly than the last. By the time we were finished, the focus was less on the actual fight and more on making sure our positioning lined up for the cameras.

  Meadow was set to run out of the room after Tyler came in to rescue her, so I had a chance to hang back and watch Gavin and Michael work with the choreographer for their big fight—which was kind of hot, even if they were pulling their punches.

  An hour later, we did the first full run and my nerves suddenly decided to kick in. It was probably because the entire crew was there, even Skylar and Jenna, who weren’t in the scene.

  “What the hell are you doing in my office?” Michael stormed in—fully immersed in his role as Warren. His eyes blazed with anger and I shrank back as scripted.

  “Tia sent me in here to drop these files off and ask if you can make an extra key to the storeroom for me.”

  “Bull. You were snooping in here, weren’t you?” He stepped forward, effectively backing me against the desk.

  I shook my head, careful not to shift my hair and ruin the close-up. “Of course not! I was just—”

  “That cabinet wasn’t open when I left.” He pointed over my shoulder and I turned, curious.

  “I have no idea…”

  He stepped so close I could feel his suit jacket brush the front of my blouse. It made my pulse race in fear, but I bit it back. It was an instinctive reaction and I could use it to add depth to the scene. I had to remember that.

  I spun back and practically jumped up on the desk to put space between us. “You need to back off Warren.” I gritted my teeth, looking at him with the perfect amount of bravado and apprehensiveness.

  “Or what?” He trailed one finger over my cheek before skimming it down my throat. He was using a little too much pressure, which caused me to swallow hard. “You gonna tell your new boyfriend?”

  I gave him a confused, angry look. “What the hell are you talking about?” I pushed feebly at his shoulder, but he stood firm.

  He leaned closer, his breath on my ear. I could hear the camera being rolled closer, and it helped remind me that I was safe, this was okay—or it would be. “I know you’re screwing Tyler, you conniving slut. If you wanted the fast track to the top, you’d have done better to let me into those dollar store panties. I’m the real businessman here.” He leaned back, smirking.

  I reared back and let my hand fly toward his face. As practiced, he turned at the perfect moment and someone off stage snapped two sticks together to help add sound. Michael kept his head turned for a three count then slowly turned to look at me.

  Without a word, he bent his arm across his chest and whipped the back of his hand in my direction. I felt the air move by the tip of my nose as he followed through, a perfect faux slap. I had a moment of I really did it before his hands locked around my upper arms and he was right in my face, delivering his lines with such vehemence, I barely kept myself in character. He was scaring me—me, not Meadow. And his grip was ten times tighter than it had been in the practice runs, so he was also hurting me. So much so that my eyes burned and I had to fight like hell to keep real—unscripted—tears at bay.

  Right on cue, Gavin—Tyler—burst in and Michael let go, spinning toward his nemesis. I was supposed to scurry out of the room, so I got my shit together enough to make my feet move, but the damn tears were coming and I couldn’t stop them. Gavin’s eyes flashed to mine as scripted, taking in my state and halting briefly on the already bright-red hand prints on my exposed upper arms. I blinked through my tears and hurried by him as I was supposed to.

  My intention was to hit the catering table down the hall and grab some napkins before anyone saw me, but a sharp cracking sound followed by shouts from the crew halted me in my tracks.

  “Goddamn it, Gavin!”

  I hurried back and rounded the faux wall of the set to find Michael and Gavin being held back by crew members—barely. Bryce and Joey had Gavin, dragging him across the room as Michael struggled in the grip of Porter and Freddy who—funnily enough—were both grip guys.

  “Accidents happen. Let it go,” Bryce called before turning and poking Gavin in the chest. “Now apologize before someone gets hurt.”

  “I am hurt, asshole!” Michael yelled at Bryce. “If it was the other way around and I’d taken a real swing at your boy there, I’d be tossed.”

  “Fuck you,” Gavin spat, eyes locked on Michael’s.

  Bryce poked him in the chest again. “The next two words out of your stupid face better be ‘I’m sorry’ or so help me God, Gavin.”

  His lips curled up in a way that reminded me of the Grinch. “I’m sorry.” The way he said it made it clear that he wasn’t sorry in the least.

  “Fuck. You.” Michael snatched himself out of Porter and Freddy’s hands, turning to leave. “Someone get me a goddamn ice pack before the swelling sets in.”

  Once he was gone, Bryce gave Gavin some room and motioned for Joey to leave. I stepped back, hiding from view as the rest of the assembled spectators meandered away.

  “Thanks to your accidental punch, Michael probably won’t be able to shoot anymore today. Frankly, I don’t want to look at you right now, so go home and work through whatever shit is simmering between you two, then bring your ass back here tomorrow as the fucking professional I know you to be.”

  I couldn’t see their faces but I didn’t need to. The tension was palpable. “Fine. I’m out of here.”

  “Tell Kaiti she can go too,” Bryce called just as Gavin rounded the corner and caught me snooping.

  “Damn right she can,” he tossed back, taking my hand and pulling me along behind him.

  “What the hell happened?” I asked as we made our way out, taking the deserted back halls to avoid seeing anyone.

  “I slipped.” He shrugged, not looking at me as we walked. He seemed to know where we were going, so I let him lead.

  “You slipped? I heard the crack from halfway down the hall. You knocked the shit out of him.”

  He smiled, actually smiled, but kept his eyes forward. “It was loud, wasn’t it? Bet it was even louder from inside his skull.”

  “You meant to do it, didn’t you?” There was no accusation in my tone, no judgment.

  He stopped, letting me get a step ahead of him before tugging on our joined hands and spinning me around. “I saw your face. And the red marks on your arms.” He was stone-faced, deadly serious as he barely skimmed my upper arms with the backs of his hands. “He better be glad I didn’t break his fucking neck.”

  I shook my head, trying to downplay it. “He just got a little too rough and it scared me. It made the scene more believable, so…”

  He gave me an incredulous look. “He. Hurt. You.” Every syllable
ratcheted up his anger. “There is no justification for that, so you don’t get to let it slide or shrug it off. The hit he took is a lot less than he deserves, and I really did pull the punch—if I hadn’t, he’d have lost a few teeth.” He tossed a look back down the hall, still seething. “And if they say that your part of the scene needs to be shot again, it will happen over my dead body.”

  “You’re overreacting,” I told him as I stroked his arm, attempting to calm him. I spotted the elevator sign over his right shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief. I needed to get him out of there before he decided to track down Michael for another sparring match.

  “No. You’re under-reacting. But you weren’t so unaffected at the time. I saw you.”

  “It was more intense than I was prepared for, that’s all.”

  He blew out a frustrated breath. “No, it was assault, Kaiti. Stop trying to smooth things over and play it off like it doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t!” I barked, twisting away and marching toward the elevators. “What you did was assault too, by the way. God, Gavin, just let it go.”

  “Why?” He stepped in front of me as I stared at the display above the elevator doors, watching the numbers tick by. “Why aren’t you pissed off?”

  “Because I’m not.” Why was he pushing this?

  “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  “I don’t have to do a goddamn thing,” I corrected angrily. “I don’t owe you an explanation as to why I’m not falling to pieces, just like I don’t owe him the satisfaction of knowing he not only hurt me but scared the living shit out of me—and in front of the entire crew. But most importantly, I don’t have to let it get to me. I flat-out refuse to let it get to me because I’m finally making progress fighting my anxiety and I’ll be damned if I let that jackass set me back.” I also refused to cry, though I could feel my lip trembling. “Now, can we please, for the love of Godiva, go back to my place and spend the rest of the day stuffing our faces with junk food and screwing ourselves silly?”