Love Scene, Take Two

by Alex Evansley

  Then he turns to head back upstairs.

  “Jesus Christ—” he yelps, pressing a hand to his forehead.

  Liz is leaning against the doorframe, blocking his exit.

  “Sorry,” she giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. “I was looking for Bennett.”

  Teddy clears his throat. “Is she not out on the patio?”

  Liz moseys into the room toward the windows. She peeks through the blinds for a second before turning back, a coy smile on her face.

  “No, she is,” she says. Which, what?

  “Oh. Well. I’m gonna go grab her and head back upstairs—”

  “So, like, you and Bennett just met each other, right?” Liz says, making no effort to be discreet as she eyes him up and down and waits for an answer.

  “Um, yeah,” Teddy says. “On the plane. Remember?”

  Liz hums, strolling past the bed and dragging a finger lazily across the duvet cover.

  “That’s so crazy, right?” she says, and Teddy has no clue what to say to that. “Plus, it’s so unlike Bennett to invite someone she barely knows to spend the weekend with her. So, so crazy.”

  Teddy rocks back onto his heels and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I mean, I wouldn’t say we barely know each other.…”

  “You’re right, that was a little one-sided of me to assume.” Liz pauses to smile innocently over at him again. “You’re Teddy Sharpe—obviously she knew who you were beforehand, or else you wouldn’t be here. Is she, like, trying to get you to do a promo thing for her books or something?”

  “Are you—are you for real with this right now?” he laughs despite the heat creeping up the back of his neck and spreading to his cheeks and forehead. He’s sure the look on his face would probably be considered rude by most people’s standards, but he has no effing clue what Liz is even doing here, let alone talking about. “Bennett doesn’t need my help with promo stuff, trust me. What are you even saying?”

  Liz wanders toward him and takes her time gathering her hair over to one shoulder. “Okay, what’s the deal, then? Why are you here?”

  Teddy feels himself getting defensive for Bennett. Not that he’s, like, this suave dude that everyone wants to be around, but why does Liz think he has to have some big reason to be here?

  When Teddy doesn’t respond again, Liz shoots him a nasty look and mutters, “God, this whole secrecy for attention thing she does is so extra.”

  “You clearly don’t know Bennett if you think she’s secretive for attention,” Teddy snaps, folding his arms across his chest. “Maybe she just doesn’t want people telling everyone and their mother her business.”

  Liz’s eyes go wide.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” she starts, looking theatrically hurt. “I-I was just trying to figure out why a famous actor with a girlfriend would agree to spend the weekend with a random girl he met on the plane.”

  “You should ask her, then,” Teddy says, starting for the door.

  Liz gasps. “So it does have something to do with her books?”

  “Or maybe Bennett and I are friends and I enjoy spending time with her?” he wheels around and says before he can stop himself. He realizes a moment too late that Liz is on his heels, so when he turns she’s right there, up in his space and almost at eye level. She stares at him for a moment, even after he takes two gigantic steps back, and Teddy can practically see the synapses firing behind her eyes.

  “Wait a second,” she says, looking like she’s too close to putting two and two together, and at this point, Teddy’ll say just about anything to distract her from jumping to the correct conclusion—a movie-related conclusion.

  “Fine, yeah—I’m here because I like Bennett, okay? We’re kind of … you know…” He trails off, and he’ll deal with the repercussions later (especially since it doesn’t feel like a lie, which is as unexpected as it is nerve-racking).

  Liz looks like nothing makes sense to her anymore.

  “You and Bennett? Seriously?” she says, then she throws her head back and laughs, the sound ricocheting around the room. She pretends to wipe a nonexistent tear from her eye. “Oh, God, this is great. Does she know you have a girlfriend?”

  “I don’t—” Teddy starts, but he knows he can’t technically finish that sentence. Not yet.

  “Oh shit, she doesn’t, does she?” Liz says, eyes lighting up, and it’s sickening how much she’s enjoying this. “Makes sense. Bennett would never get involved with a guy with a girlfriend. I can’t imagine her wanting any part of ruining somebody else’s relationship, since, you know, she’s had it done to her before.”

  “What, you mean when you did it to her?” Teddy shoots back, and Liz’s expression goes completely blank for one quick, satisfying second.

  Teddy decides not to stick around for the rest of her reaction, though. He’s had enough of this for one night. Liz’s words are still clattering around in his head as he rounds out of the bedroom and down the hall—only to skid to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, his stomach launching into his throat. Liz nearly smacks into the back of him a second later.

  “What’re you two weirdos doing?” Bennett asks. She’s standing halfway up the steps, phone still clutched in her hand.

  Liz doesn’t even miss a beat.

  “I was asking Teddy to let me borrow some contact solution—my allergies are going crazy right now,” she says with a terrifying amount of ease.

  “Yikes—I’m sorry,” Bennett says. “I think I’ve got some eye drops upstairs if you need them later.”

  “Oh, perfect!” Liz heads up the stairs, dropping a hand on Bennett’s shoulder as she steps around her. “Come on, guys! Dinner’s going to be ready soon.”

  Bennett rolls her eyes and motions for Teddy to follow her. “Yeah—come on, Teddy!”

  Teddy’s not sure how to get his legs to work. He wants to say something to Bennett about what just happened for the sake of his own sanity, but where does he even start? That he just admitted to Liz that something’s going on between them to make sure Liz didn’t guess about Bennett’s movie? And that it might be more truthful for him than he was expecting?

  “Hey, do you think I have time to make a phone call before dinner?” Teddy asks instead, pointing a thumb over his shoulder toward the basement patio. At least one good thing came out of what just happened with Liz: the clarity that Teddy needs to sack up and handle this with Chelsea before it blows up in his face.

  “Yeah, no worries,” Bennett says, cocking her head to the side. “Is everything okay?”

  “Definitely—just need to return a couple of messages. I’ll be quick.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Teddy pulls his phone out of his pocket once he’s down on the Caldwells’ dock.

  It’s time to deal with this.

  Chelsea doesn’t deserve Teddy walking around saying there’s something going on with him and another girl when they haven’t talked yet (regardless of how nasty Chelsea was to him during the past twenty-four hours), and Bennett doesn’t deserve this, either. Even if there is a possibility she might reciprocate what Teddy’s apparently feeling, the last thing Teddy wants to do is string both girls along. He at least needs to let Chelsea know where his head is at first.

  Teddy’s not trying to have this conversation over text—even if it has to be on the phone, Teddy still owes it to Chelsea to speak to her directly.

  Teddy’s in the middle of typing out a follow-up message on how he needs to talk to her about why he’s still in Charlotte when her response stops him short.

  Teddy sighs. Text it is, then.

  Having absolutely no idea where to start, he types out the first thing to pop into his head and hits send before he can change his mind.

  The little typing ellipsis pops up immediately.

  Reading that is strange. It hurts she’s being so cavalier about whatever their relationship is, and it’s frustrating she’s so quick to respond now after it basically took an act of Congress to get her to reply to him
in recent, normal conversations.

  Then the implications behind the last sentence of her text sink in.

  The more Teddy mulls it over, the more he gets the feeling he already knows the answer. It would certainly be within the realm of Normal Chelsea Behavior. Without waiting for a response, he adds:

  A minute or so passes before she texts back.

  Shit like this—seriously? Does she mean their relationship? It’s amazing how three words can resolve most of Teddy’s guilt. Here he is, genuinely worried about how he’s handling everything, while Chelsea is probably posted up on set in Vancouver, relieved to have another weekend without having to deal with shit like this.

  First of all, the irony behind “It’s like we’re trying too hard” is so hilariously hilarious it has Teddy questioning his own sanity, because second of all—Chelsea might actually be right about this. Teddy remembers looking forward to their trip down to Miami while on the plane in Charlotte, yeah, but he also remembers plenty of pop-up moments of relief that he and Chelsea never made it down. He just assumed it was because he was mad she bailed on him last second, but now? Now, not so much.

  So Chelsea will take a few days to come to LA to break up with him in person but she won’t take a long weekend with him in Miami? Jesus. How the hell did this relationship make it two years?

  Teddy wants to lash out. Wants Chelsea to feel as shitty as he feels right now. Sure, it’ll sound petty and detached and sort of middle school-esque, but Teddy could not care less.

  Chelsea’s response is instantaneous.

  Teddy almost doesn’t answer. He just wants this conversation to be done. He types out a quick message, taps send, and watches the little DELIVERED materialize underneath.

  Then he turns his phone off with no intention of turning it back on until Sunday.

  * * *

  “Teddy, grab a plate, man,” Mr. Caldwell says, clapping Teddy on the shoulders and shaking him out of his mental exhaustion long enough to remember he’s standing in the middle of the kitchen. He looks around.

  Everyone is already seated or hovering around the food on the kitchen island. The Caldwells and the McGearys clearly know how to do it right when it comes to cookouts, and calculating how much food Teddy can fit on one plate is a welcomed distraction from the current state of his personal life. Bennett picks up a plate after him and laughs as he piles up as much as he can get.

  “What’s this?” Teddy asks, pointing at the giant platter in the middle of the other dishes. It has jumbo shrimp and corn on the cob and little red potatoes and—sausage, maybe?—and Teddy has never thought about smushing his face into a pile of food before, but at this point he wouldn’t put it past himself.

  “It’s called Frogmore Stew,” Bennett says, reaching for the salad. “You’re gonna love it—”

  “Oh no, Bennie, I’m so sorry!” Mrs. McGeary steps between them and takes the salad tongs out of Bennett’s hand. “I completely forgot, I used walnuts in the salad. I feel terrible.”

  “Oh—that’s okay, Aunt Susan,” Bennett says, setting down her plate and walking to the kitchen sink. She washes her hands twice while Mrs. McGeary takes Bennett’s place in line.

  “What was that?” Teddy murmurs once Bennett’s picked up her plate again.

  She shrugs. “I’m allergic to tree nuts.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I can’t get them anywhere near my mouth or eyes. I’ll swell up and start wheezing and stuff. It’s superattractive.”

  “Yikes, that sounds miserable,” Teddy laughs, following her to the dining table.

  Frogmore Stew ends up being one of the best things Teddy has ever tasted, and it’s a shame he can’t enjoy the full dining experience since Liz has chosen to sit directly across from him. She spends all dinner with a tiny little grin on her face and seems hell-bent on making sure everyone is paying attention to what she’s saying.

  Teddy doesn’t wait for someone else to get up for seconds this time around. After enduring monopolized conversations all night, he’s way past decorum. He piles up more Frogmore Stew and resolves himself to only speaking when spoken to. Which doesn’t last.

  “Right, Teddy?”

  Teddy’s eyes flick up from the jumbo shrimp to find Liz looking back at him expectantly. Again.

  “Sorry, what was that?” he asks.

  Bennett helps him out, her tone laced with humor no one else seems to pick up on. “Liz thinks social media’s going to be the downfall of our generation.”

  Teddy raises his eyebrows in hopes it’ll disguise the what-the-hell-does-this-have-to-do-with-me? trying to etch itself into his expression.

  “I deleted myself off all social media this summer,” Liz says, since apparently this is vital information for everyone to have. “And it’s honestly the best decision I’ve ever made. There’s so much more going on in the world than on the Internet.”

  “Then what’re you doing on your phone all the time?” Will asks through a mouthful of garlic bread.

  “I obviously still keep up with my friends,” Liz says, looking at her brother like he’s not even worth answering. “Plus my roommate from Clemson and I are trying to coordinate who’s buying what for our dorm. Which reminds me—Bennie, have you figured out your little college roommate situation yet?”

  “Still doing random as of now,” Bennett says.

  “Ugh. Are you sure you want to do that, though?” Liz’s eyes go wide with faux sincerity. “What if you end up with, like, a psycho or something?”

  Bennett wrinkles her nose as she sips her water. “I’m not worried about it.”

  “That’s the one thing I did before deleting myself off the Internet—vetted my Clemson roommate to make sure she’s suitable to live with.” Liz shudders. “It was her idea to delete everything before rush. Supersmart.”

  “Why? Afraid all the sorority girls are gonna find out about your seventh-grade emo phase?” Will asks.

  Liz throws a piece of sausage at him. He catches it and puts it down on the edge of his plate with distaste.

  “Manners, William,” Mrs. McGeary snaps from the adult side of the table, giving her son the same look her daughter gave him a minute ago. Will casts his eyes back down to his plate.

  Pleased, Liz continues with, “But, yeah. So many of my friends have gotten in trouble because of all the stuff about them on the Internet. Bennett and I know this guy named Robbie, who almost got his basketball scholarship taken away because someone took Snapchat screenshots of him at a party and posted them on Facebook.”

  “Seriously?” Teddy turns to Bennett for confirmation, then gets completely distracted watching the way she puts down her silverware and reaches for the napkin in her lap. She balls it up in both fists, knuckles going white.

  “Robbie deserved to get caught, though. The piece of shit.” Liz sniffs. She looks directly at Bennett and says, “Right, Bennie?” and honestly, Teddy might be jumping the gun here, but if Robbie turns out to be the guy Bennett dated, then this is proof positive that Liz is actually evil.

  “Is that why you think social media’s going to be the downfall of our generation, then? The invasion of privacy?” Teddy asks, suddenly in the mood to partake in the conversation.

  Liz considers it.

  “I guess that’s a more specific way to put it,” she says. She takes in what Teddy can only assume is an annoyed expression on his face and adds, “What, you don’t agree?”

  “Not really.”

  “Interesting.” Liz sips the glass of wine she demanded her parents let her have (since Bennie and everyone else have been drinking beer all day). “I thought you of all people would agree—what with all the stuff that’s written on the Internet about you without your consent.”

  “He’s a public figure,” Bennett pipes up. “People don’t need consent to put stuff about him on the Internet.”

  “Occupational hazard,” Teddy adds, glad Bennett’s come out of whatever was going on inside her head.

  “I gues
s that’s true.” Liz smiles sweetly across the table at them in a way that has Teddy gritting his teeth. “A drawback to being one of Young Hollywood’s brightest rising stars, right?”

  Wow. She’s quoting his own Encyclopeakia article at him. Bold move.

  “I don’t see it that way,” Teddy says. “But I also don’t go out of my way to read what people are saying about me on the Internet. Most of it’s probably bullshit anyway.”

  “Really?” Liz gasps. “Not even to read all the amazing reviews you’ve gotten?”

  Teddy shakes his head.

  “That’s too bad.” Liz pouts. “I know that one movie you were in for Sundance definitely got some killer reviews. What was it called again, Teddy?”

  And now she’s gonna go there. Awesome. Bring it on.

  “Bistro on Fifth,” Teddy replies, looking Liz square in the eye. Daring her to keep going.

  But then Bennett says, “Oh yeah—I really liked that one, actually,” and now Teddy has to live with the knowledge that Bennett has not only seen the movie he and Chelsea worked on together, but specifically all the lovey-dovey parts and that one sex scene toward the end.

  Liz grins over her wineglass. “I know, right, Bennie? Such a cute movie! What was the name of the actress again? Chelsea something…?”

  “Chelsea Bordeaux!” Will provides. “Y’all were both amazing in that movie, Teddy.”

  “Oh—thanks, man,” Teddy says, hoping his expression isn’t giving him away. He’s still raw from his text conversation with Chelsea (and just from the past thirty-six hours of his life in general). It’s hard to keep your game face on while being water boarded with your own emotions.