Love Scene, Take Two

by Alex Evansley

  Bennett smiles when he walks up.

  “Glad to see you didn’t fall off the Jetway,” she says, and under normal circumstances Teddy would appreciate the reference. She studies his face and adds, “You good? You’re looking a little stressed out again.”

  Teddy snorts. “Yeah, well. The rest of my weekend plans just fell through, and I’m kind of stranded in Charlotte for the night.”

  “Yikes—I’m sorry.” She pauses for a second, messing with the tied off end of her braid. “I mean, do you need a ride or anything? I have my car here.”

  Teddy feels his eyebrows lift, and he grins. “Look at you, all over this southern hospitality shtick already. I’m impressed.”

  She leaves the braid alone to readjust her backpack straps. “You should be. Even I’m impressed with how charitable I’m being.”

  “This is about my Buzz Lightyear briefs, isn’t it?”

  Bennett laughs. “Sure, we’ll go with that—”

  The last half of her comment is drowned out by a chorus of squeals coming from somewhere to their left. They both turn.

  There’s a group of teenage girls standing a few yards away, Starbucks drinks in hand and hearts in their eyes as they huddle together. One of them is even wearing a Testing Wyatt T-shirt.

  “Sorry about this,” Teddy mutters to Bennett. Then he waves, prompting the girls to rush over in a fit of Frappuccino-fueled enthusiasm.

  There are only four of them, but they’re all talking over one another about how much they love Teddy and his TV show. Teddy listens and grins and doles out hugs, and when the boldest of the group, a tall girl with bright red hair, asks if they can get pictures, Teddy pushes his luggage aside and tells them that he doesn’t know how to work Instagram, but they’re welcome to tag him if they want.

  “We love you so much,” the redhead gushes, clutching a hand over her heart like she’s sure it’s about to burst.

  Honestly, Teddy loves meeting fans, but he still doesn’t understand why they get this way around him. He’s pretty much the most average-looking guy ever—dark hair, brown eyes, a little on the skinny side. And it’d be one thing if he were an actual movie star, but all he’s done is a couple of indie movies and hold down a recurring (secondary) role on an MTV show. His acting résumé doesn’t merit this kind of attention.…

  Teddy throws a glance at Bennett. She’s standing off to the side, watching it all go down with a hint a humor in her eyes. Teddy feels bad for making her wait, so he asks, “Actually, do you guys mind if we do a group picture? I’ve got an Uber coming soon.”

  It’s a fib, yeah, but hey—occupational necessity sometimes.

  “I’ll take it for y’all,” Bennett volunteers cheerfully, moving around the group and holding out a hand. “Which phone do you want to use?”

  The girls squeal again, pushing all their phones toward her, and Teddy gives her a good-natured headshake before smiling for the camera.

  Bennett turns out to be quite the accommodating photographer, having the girls switch places so they each get a turn to stand next to Teddy. She takes pictures on all their phones, then tells them to do one last goofy one, and Teddy ends up with the redhead hooking an arm around his shoulders and pretending to give him a noogie. Bennett has to retake the picture because the first one “supposedly” turns out blurry.

  “Who knew you were such a good photographer, Bennett?” Teddy says once they’re crossing through the airport again.

  They step onto a moving sidewalk and Bennett throws him a smirk over her shoulder. “Who knew you were such a big deal, Buzz?”

  Both of their bags are on the carousel by the time they make it to baggage claim. Teddy glances at the exit doors while Bennett searches the front pockets of her backpack for something.

  “Sorry—looking for my valet ticket,” she says.

  “Oh, you fancy, huh?”

  “Obviously.” She grins up at him. “But I also promised my dad I wouldn’t walk through long-term parking by myself.”

  “Touché,” Teddy says, thinking about her offer from earlier. He doesn’t want her to think he was blowing her off when he fibbed about having an Uber coming, but he also doesn’t know how to bring it up again.

  “So, cabs usually hang out here,” Bennett tells him as they stand outside of arrivals. “And if you put your airline into your Uber request they find you pretty quickly. Where are you headed tomorrow?”

  Teddy hikes his duffel bag up on his shoulder. “Back to LA, if I can make it through the night here. Speaking of—where’s the closest hotel?”

  “We’re at an airport,” Bennett says. “You could probably throw a rock and hit one from here.”

  Teddy pushes her with his elbow. “Okay, smartass.” She steps sideways, grinning, looking like she might push back. But she doesn’t.

  “I guess hotels depend on how much you want to spend on an Uber,” she says, then lists off a couple of places around Charlotte. Teddy nods along politely, watching multiple cabs whiz by. Before he can ask which one she recommends, Bennett readjusts her baseball hat and says, “Are you sure you don’t want a ride? I know it’s kinda weird, but yeah. Offer still stands.”

  Teddy’s eyes cut back to hers. “Why would that be weird?”

  She shrugs. “I mean, for all you know I could, like, run a Teddy Sharpe fan blog and want to take secret pictures of you to up my follower count.” Teddy bursts out laughing. Bennett shrugs again. “Didn’t know if it’d be weird or not for a complete stranger to offer you a ride.”

  Teddy wonders what her definition of “complete stranger” is, considering they just spent the better portion of the past six hours together.

  “Do you run a fan blog for me?” he asks.

  Bennett snorts. “Yes.”

  “You sure giving me a lift to a hotel isn’t out of your way?”

  “I have to go toward the highway regardless. And I’m pretty sure there are, like, eight hotels on the way.” The guy working valet pulls up in a Jeep Cherokee. “Your call, Buzz,” Bennett says, walking to the trunk and popping the liftgate.

  There’s a split-second hesitation; then Teddy replies with, “That’d be great, actually,” and finds himself in the passenger’s seat of Bennett’s Jeep, reflecting again on how this is not the way he anticipated his day going.

  “It’s exceptionally clean in here,” Teddy comments when Bennett hops into the driver’s side. He watches her hesitate with her key fob, like it takes her a second to remember that it’s not actually a car key, and adds, “New car smell, too. Nice. Graduation gift?”

  “Yeah, just got it,” she says, sounding a little distracted as they pull away from the curb. “Should you call ahead to some hotels?”

  “Oh—yeah.” Teddy props his elbow up on the center console and opens the map app on his phone.

  Bennett drives past the first two hotels he finds, claiming, “They’re for sketchballs.” She actually pulls into the parking lot of the third one, but it ends up being at full occupancy because of a convention in town for the weekend.

  “There are so many good hotels uptown,” Bennett says when they’re back on the road. She’s been lobbying for wherever the hell uptown is for the past ten minutes. “We’re already past the highway, anyway.”

  Teddy looks up from his phone and frowns. “Uptown sounds too far out of the way, so no. The next hotel looks promising.”

  “Promising to give you hepatitis.”

  “What do you think, A, B, or C?” he asks.

  Bennett grins at the windshield. “Pick one.”

  Teddy can’t decide if she’s being stubborn or if she’s really this concerned for his well-being. “Come on, Bennett,” he says, lightly tapping her arm with the back of his hand. “I appreciate it, but it’s not a big deal. Just drop me off somewhere and I’ll figure it out.”

  Bennett stills for a second, and there’s a long pause before she says anything—long enough for Teddy to think she’s actually entertaining the idea of leaving him somewhere
to fend for himself.

  “You said you have to be back at the airport around noon tomorrow, right?” she asks.

  “Yeah, but—”

  “This is about to be so weird,” she mutters, pressing a hand to her forehead and glancing out the driver’s side window.

  “What is?”

  She hesitates before answering, “So, my older brother has to fly out tomorrow for some charity golf tournament he’s playing in down in Fort Myers. If you don’t mind getting there a little early, you could stay at our house tonight and ride with him to the airport tomorrow.…

  “And before you think I’m some humongous creep,” she starts up again, talking ninety miles an hour and throwing nervous glances across the center console, “I’m only offering because I feel bad your weekend plans fell through and that you have no car and it would be so shitty to catch any of the hepatitises in the alphabet while stranded in Charlotte.”

  It’s the longest monologue Teddy’s heard from her so far, and it takes him a second to register what she’s saying.

  Bennett frowns at him when he doesn’t respond, adding, “Hep-a-ti-tis. Hep-a-ti-tis-es—that doesn’t sound right. The hell is the plural of hepatitis?”

  Teddy starts cracking up.

  Like, really cracking up—mouth hanging open, no sound coming out, having-to-clutch-his-stomach cracking up.

  “Oh my God, this is hilarious,” he says, then sees the expression on her face. “No, no—in a good way,” he backpedals, still laughing. “I don’t know how we got here, but that’s really sweet of you to offer.”

  Bennett changes her grip on the steering wheel and checks her rearview.

  “Yeah, well, I’m doing a great job of convincing you that I’m not some psycho stalker fangirl,” she mumbles.

  “But you are a fan of me, obviously,” Teddy says.

  “You know what, that was inappropriate; I shouldn’t have said anything,” she says, her face still flushed. “What’s the next hotel on your list?”

  A tiny shard of disappointment works its way into Teddy’s stomach, and he has no idea why or where it’s coming from. He and Bennett have only known each other for a few hours—maybe it is a little weird she’s being this nice.

  “Are you doing all this because I’m, like, kind of famous, or are you really this nice?” he asks, cringing as he says it.

  Bennett doesn’t even hesitate. “Because you’re kind of famous.”

  Teddy’s head snaps up. “Seriously?”

  This time Bennett’s the one to laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, superstar. I didn’t even know who you were until a week ago.”

  “Hey, now—ouch.” Her comment stings a little more than it should, but, ironically, it makes him feel better.

  “See? I’m not that nice.”

  “Just to recap here.” Teddy begins counting off on his fingers. “You took pity on me and talked me through our flight, you were a great sport about taking pictures earlier, you’re currently chauffeuring me around on a hotel tour of Charlotte, and now you’re offering me a free place to stay so I don’t catch any of the hepatitises in the alphabet.” He pauses, enjoying how hard Bennett’s trying not to smile now. “I don’t know who you’ve been hanging out with, Bennett, but I’d say that’s pretty freaking nice.”

  “I can’t help it—I just feel so bad for you. It’s like the state of North Carolina is allergic to you,” she says dryly.

  Teddy laughs, letting his gaze slip over to the driver’s side again. Bennett’s in profile against the passing streetlights outside, all pleased smirks and genuine intentions, and honestly? Screw it. Chelsea bailed on him, his plans fell through, and the last thing he wants to do is sit in some hepatitis-ridden hotel room watching SportsCenter all night.

  “You’re killing me, Smalls,” he says, eyes shifting away from her ball cap to the approaching stoplight up ahead. “Have you reinvited me to stay at your house yet? Because if I do end up getting hepatitis, it’ll be on you.”

  Bennett bites back another grin and puts her turn signal on. “Staying at my house is a ballsy move, Buzz,” she tells him as they drift into the left-turn lane. “I could actually be a psycho stalker. Or a serial killer.”

  “I think I’ll take my odds against you rather than a virus that attacks my liver.”

  “A-plus famous last words,” Bennett says, then pulls a U-turn around the median.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It doesn’t sink in that Teddy’s going through with this until Bennett pulls onto the highway, heading north. Maybe he’s being paranoid, but it feels like the atmosphere changes between them—and it doesn’t help that at first Bennett busies herself with her phone instead of talking.

  “Just so you know, I give great lectures on texting and driving,” Teddy says.

  “I know, I’m sorry.” Her eyes dart between her phone screen and the windshield for a few more seconds before she puts it down. She starts messing with the radio next, settling on a scratchy Led Zeppelin song.

  Teddy points at the dash. “What’s up with this station?”

  “It sounds better the closer you get to the lake. It’s all we listen to there, so I apologize in advance if you’re not a fan.”

  “Lake?”

  “Oh—yeah.” She throws him a quick glance. “We kind of live on a lake.”

  Oh. Casual.

  “Anything else I need to know before you take me home to meet the fam?” Teddy asks.

  Bennett pretends to mull it over. “As long as you don’t mind dogs and you’re not a picky eater, you should be good.”

  “How far away is your house from Charlotte?”

  “Thirty minutes, tops.”

  “And, uh—how many people are going to be there?” he asks, but what he means is, does she have a younger sibling who watches a lot of MTV? Are her parents into movies and might recognize him from his? Does he need to call up Rita for another PR lesson on how to deal with the masses?

  “Just my mom and my dad, and my older brother, Tanner,” Bennett says. Teddy relaxes for a moment until she adds, “My aunt and uncle and cousins will be there tomorrow for dinner—actually, never mind. You’re leaving tomorrow.”

  Teddy wonders what the rest of her family’s going to be like.

  “Should I just call your mom and dad, Mom and Dad then?” he asks.

  Bennett snorts. “And you call me a smartass. Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell. Or Tom and Libby. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

  “Bennett Caldwell,” Teddy says, trying it out.

  She gives him a skeptical look. “Teddy Sharpe?”

  “Correct. But do you know my full name?” he asks.

  “Can’t say I do.”

  “That at least proves you’re not a psycho stalker fangirl. Any respectable Teddy Sharpe stan would know that it’s Theodore Maxwell Sharpe.”

  Bennett laughs. “Yikes. And I thought Mary Bennett Caldwell was a mouthful.”

  Teddy’s about to fire off another crack about her running a fan blog when something occurs to him, and it’s like the world’s biggest light bulb turns on over his head.

  “Hold on a second,” he mutters, his mouth barely keeping up with the jump his brain makes from Mary Bennett Caldwell to M. B. Caldwell. “What the—holy FUCK.”

  “What?!” she startles, gripping the steering wheel with both hands and looking over at him like he’s nuts.

  “You wrote the book the movie I just auditioned for is based on?” Teddy asks. “You’re the author of Parachutes?”

  Bennett blushes, confirming the answer, and it certainly all makes sense now: Why she was sitting with the director during his audition, why she’s not allowed to talk about casting … Teddy’s been casually hanging out with the creator of the YA film franchise he just auditioned for, and this is just now occurring to him.

  “Jesus,” Teddy says, rubbing a hand over his forehead. How the hell is this just now occurring to him? “How old are you?”

  Bennett squirms a little in her seat. “Eigh
teen.”

  “You’re a best-selling author. At eighteen.” Teddy gapes, then adds (mostly to himself), “That’s so freaking cool.”

  Even in the artificial dashboard light, he can still see Bennett blushing when she mumbles, “Thank you,” and Teddy can’t figure out why she looks so embarrassed.

  “I mean, maybe I should start a fan blog about you, Bennett. Holy shit,” he says.

  Finally—finally—Bennett cracks a smile, and Teddy counts it as a monumental win for about three seconds until it dawns on him that Bennett’s known since before they even took off today that he auditioned for her movie without reading the books first.

  * * *

  Teddy spends the rest of the car ride reeling over this M. B. Caldwell discovery, and it quickly becomes apparent that Bennett’s sticking to her You-Know-I-Can’t-Talk-About-This policy, regardless of how many times Teddy tries to sweet talk his way into getting some answers. He has so many questions about the books and film adaptation that he can’t keep his thoughts straight, but he also feels guilty that Bennett knows he hasn’t read the series yet. The least he can do is rein in the peer pressure.

  Once he and Bennett pull off the highway, they drive through a small town before getting onto some back roads that are more than a little terrifying. Teddy’s used to being surrounded by traffic and city lights, so he gets a little restless as they cruise through the boonies and their lack of streetlamps. Particularly when they make another turn onto a dark road completely lined with trees. The moonlight and Bennett’s high beams are the only sources of light for what looks like miles.

  “Maybe you are a serial killer, Bennett,” Teddy says, staring out the window. “You’ve definitely got the setting down.”

  Teddy’s shoulders relax back into his seat when a well-lit neighborhood emerges up ahead, but the relief is short-lived. His phone vibrates in his pocket just before they turn in, and his heart sinks when he sees Chelsea’s name on the screen. A text message shows up a few seconds after it goes to voice mail.

  Teddy doesn’t have the energy for this now. He’ll text her back later.