by Melody Grace
“Yeah, that’s not going to work,” Tegan frowns. “My brother’s idea of romance is calling a girl to dump her instead of just sending a text.”
“Hey!” I protest, feeling the need to defend him.
“I know, I know, he’s not all bad,” Tegan quickly agrees with a smile. “But that doesn’t help us. Come on,” she urges Hunter. “Give us the inside scoop. What can she do to make him see her as more than a friend?”
Hunter looks over at me with an apologetic smile, as if to say, he knows how weird this conversation is. “Well, if you guys have known each other a while, then some mystery might be good.”
“Mystery,” I repeat slowly. “Like how?”
“Surprise him,” Hunter suggests, stealing another piece of bacon. “And a little hard to get never hurt anyone. It drove me crazy when Brit kept blowing me off, I had to move heaven and earth for a single date.”
Brit smiles smugly. “Treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen.”
He laughs. “And, uh, not to get crude, but flashing a little leg never hurt anyone. Oww!” he exclaims, as Brit hits him in the arm. “I’m trying to help,” he protests.
“No, this is good stuff,” I agree, making mental notes.
The sound of footsteps comes in the hall. “Hello?” Blake calls.
I panic. Tegan squeezes my arm. “Shh,” she orders the others. “Subject closed.”
Brit immediately turns back to the stove. “Who wants blueberries, and who wants chocolate chips?” she asks loudly.
“I do!” Tegan exclaims.
“Which one?”
“Both!”
By the time Blake walks in, they’re all focused on getting plates and cutlery down and serving up breakfast.
“Where did you go?” he asks, looking annoyed. “You missed it. I managed to canter, and I didn’t even fall.”
“Great job,” I say, breezy. I want to cheer for his achievement, but I remember Hunter’s advice, and slide off my stool instead. Hard to get. I can do that. “I have to get going,” I say brightly. “You guys have fun.”
He looks confused. “But what about breakfast?”
“I have plans,” I smile broadly. “Thanks for having us over,” I tell Brit and Hunter. “See you Monday!”
As I walk away, I can hear Blake talking behind me. “What kind of plans?”
“Just some guy,” Tegan’s voice replies. “You know Zoey.”
I head out with a smile. He might think he does, but I’m going to show Blake he doesn’t know me yet.
9.
Hunter is right: I need a little mystery. Ever since arriving in town, I’ve tried to spend as much time near Blake as possible—and it’s got me nowhere. Now, it’s time for something new.
So, for the next week of filming, I keep my distance. Instead of bringing Blake his morning coffee and Mrs. Olsen’s muffins, lingering near his trailer to say hi or chat between takes, I make sure I’m always too busy to send him anything other than a distant wave. “Sorry, can’t talk,” I say whenever he comes over, cutting him off before he can even say a word. “I’ve got a million things to do!”
I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. What if he thinks I’m even less interested than before? But after a couple of days of being too occupied to say more than a couple of words to him, I notice something.
He’s watching me.
Call it a sixth sense, but I can feel his gaze on me now, following me around the set. I act like I don’t notice, but I catch him staring sometimes, in between takes or when I run out to give Dash new pages or bring him lunch.
So I give him something to stare at.
I’m not like my friend Elise—I would never rock up to set wearing three-inch heels and a miniskirt, but I make an effort now to look sleek and pulled together. Tight jeans and low-cut sweaters, loose dresses I belt at my waist, worn with knee-high boots and lipstick. My outfits are always practical, but on a set filled with sweatpants and work boots, I’m starting to stand out. In a good way.
“I like your scarf,” Kira tells me on Friday, a begrudging note in her voice. We’re filming up at the ranch today, working on those horseback riding scenes Dash wanted. Overnight, the place is packed with vans, cables, lighting rigs and more.
“Oh, thanks,” I smile. “Here’s the location schedule you wanted for next week,” I deliver the papers, “and the budget breakdown, and a latte: no fat, extra shot with vanilla, right?”
She blinks. “Yes, thanks. But I thought you couldn’t get a decent coffee for miles?”
“You couldn’t,” I smile. “But I talked to the girl at the diner and had a delivery of no-fat milk and all the syrups sent for them. I figured, since we’d be in town a while…”
“Good thinking,” Kira looks at me again, impressed. “You’ve got a great attitude. Most assistants don’t bother with the small stuff like coffees and copying.”
I give a shrug. “It’s the little details that make the big things happen. Dash is way less grumpy when he gets his espresso first thing,” I explain, “and if he’s happy, he doesn’t yell at the crew so much, and Lila doesn’t take ten takes to get her scenes right. Everybody wins.”
Kira laughs. “There’s a future for you in this business yet. Now, can you go catalogue the spare batteries? One of the lighting guys was supposed to do it, but I don’t know where he went.”
I turn away, beaming. I know it’s not exactly glamorous, but I like contributing, even in the smallest ways. The movie is a huge mass of moving parts, and even knowing that I’m one tiny cog in the machine is still a thrill for me.
Plus, now that I’m not so focused on being at Blake’s beck and call, I’m learning more too, especially from Dash. If the movie set is a huge, chaotic whirlwind, then he’s the eye of the storm: the one person that makes everything run. I don’t know how he does it. Every decision, every shot, it all goes through him. Blake and Lila may be the main characters, but he’s the one standing behind the camera, urging them on to play the scene more raw; wring every last drop of emotion from the dialogue. It’s like he has the whole movie already in his head, and we’re just helping him bring his vision to life.
I’m finished with my task when I spot Dash over in the main barn. “What do you think?” Dash gestures to the set. If I’m the most polished person here, he’s definitely the scruffiest, in his usual work uniform of jeans and a vintage band T-shirt.
“It’s funny how much work goes into making something look natural,” I look around. The set decorators came in and cleaned the place out before re-stacking bales of hay and hanging gleaming prop bridles over the stable doors.
“Tell me about it. But the set-up was all wrong, we want a clear shot all the way to the back, see. So when Blake comes in leading the horse, he’s like, a silhouette backlit by the sun.”
Dash holds up his hands, framing the image. I can see it already. “Maybe don’t have the horse with him,” I suggest. “What if he just has the saddle slung over one shoulder? It’s more iconic like that.”
I stop, wondering if I’ve overstepped my bounds again. I’m just an assistant, after all. But Dash nods. “I like that. Then it’s a quiet moment, he’s alone with his thoughts.”
“All dark and broody,” I note.
“Abso-fucking-lutely, darlin’.” Dash laughs along. “What’s a great love story without a great heartbreak too?”
I don’t reply. I wouldn’t know anything about real love; the longest relationship I’ve ever had was four dates with Etienne, a charming French rock musician who was plenty of fun, but too irresponsible to take seriously.
Four dates, and six years of crushing on Blake. It’s hardly a great romantic history.
I feel a shiver suddenly run down my spine. Blake. I can feel his presence somehow, and sure enough, when I glance up from the script, he’s out in the paddock, about thirty feet away, watching us through the barn entrance.
When I turn back to Dash, he’s looking at me with an amused smirk.
“
What?” I gulp, self-conscious.
He chuckles. “Never mind the script, I could make a whole movie about what’s going on right here on set.”
I flush. The last thing I want is to be unprofessional. “Is it really that obvious?”
“Just to me.” Dash smiles. “You’re ruining my schedule. Every time you walk past, Blake flubs one of his lines. When are you going to put the poor guy out of his misery?”
“I’m not the problem!” I protest. “He’s the one who keeps blowing me off.”
“Huh.” Dash glances back again, then gives me a mischievous smile. “Well, you know the one thing that’s guaranteed to light a fire under a guy’s ass?”
I shake my head. Believe me, if I knew, I would have tried it by now.
Dash grins. “Jealousy.”
He steps closer to me, and slings a casual arm over my shoulder, pretending to show me something in the schedule. “I bet you twenty bucks our boy will come running,” he murmurs in my ear.
I don’t even have time to wonder if he’s right, because a few moments later, I hear footsteps come up briskly behind us.
I slowly turn, hiding the smile that wants to stretch across my face every time I see Blake.
Damn, he looks good.
He’s still dressed in his costume for the scene: worn jeans that hug his ass and a plaid shirt. His million-dollar smile seems forced as he looks back and forth between me and Dash. “What’s up?” he asks, sounding tense.
“Nothing much.” I give him a vague smile. “Dash was just taking me through the shot list. It looks amazing,” I add, turning back to Dash. If I’m going to try and make Blake jealous, I need to pull out all the stops. “I’ve been wondering, when did you get into the business?” I coo, gazing up at Dash. “I can’t believe Tightrope was your first movie.”
“You saw that thing?” Dash chuckles. “Man, that takes me back. I shot that thing when I was still in college, just me and some buddies on borrowed equipment.”
“I loved it,” I tell him honestly. “You really captured what it feels like to be out in the world for the first time, trying to make adult decisions.”
Dash gives me a look, like he knows exactly what I’m playing at. “Well, thanks, Zoey, that means a lot.”
Blake clears his throat behind me. “Are we going to get set up then?” he asks, sounding annoyed. I have to hide my grin. It’s working!
“Sure, give me a sec,” Dash replies. “So, you got any plans for the weekend?” he asks me, casually leaning against a stable door.
He’s playing along too!
I give a flirty little smile. “You mean besides working eighteen-hour days for you?”
“You’re exaggerating.” Dash smirks, pushing back his mess of dark curls. I’ve seen him sweet-talk the other actors during tough moments on set, but this is the first time he’s directed the full force of his legendary charm on me.
It’s pretty impressive.
“Not even a little.” I give an exaggerated sigh. “You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be one of the little people. Us regular folks without a trailer and a fancy name on our chair.”
Dash groans. “You make me sound like some kind of dictator.”
“A king?” I suggest playfully.
“That’s better.” Dash’s dark eyes flash with mischief. “Wise and benevolent.”
I laugh. “And so humble too.”
My heart is racing at our flirty banter, knowing that Blake is right there, listening to every word. This is fun!
“What if I promised you a late start tomorrow?” Dash continues, “Think you could sneak out for a drink? Maybe dinner?”
I stop, confused. What is he doing? Flirting is one thing, but a real date? If I say yes, will Blake think I like Dash? That I’m not interested in him? Or is this all part of the plan now, to surprise him with something he never expected me to do?
I open my mouth and hope I’m going to pick the right option.
“Sure, sounds like fun.”
Dash grins. “Great! We could head into the city after we wrap up here.”
“Good idea,” Blake interrupts. He moves between us, making me step back. “I could use a night out. I’ll tell the others, we can make it a field trip, right?” He slaps Dash on the back. “Team bonding and all.”
“Sure.” Dash gives me a smug look, like he planned this all along. “That OK with you, Zoey?”
“Of course it is.” Blake answers for me. “Zoey loves to party.”
I do?
Just for that, I give Dash a fluttery smile. “Why not?” I coo. “I’m sure we’ll have time to get to know each other a little better. I can’t wait.”
I realize I’m going way over the top here, but what the hell. I may as well go all in. I reach out and rest my hand lightly on Dash’s arm for a moment. “I better get back to work, sir,” I add with a wink. “See you later.”
I turn and walk away, making sure to put a swing in my hips. My heart is racing: on the surface I may have seemed totally relaxed, but inside, my stomach is tied up in knots.
I can’t believe I just did that!
And Blake fell for it, right on cue. I feel a brief pang of guilt that I’m playing games with him, but I push it aside. I’ve tried being direct, and that’s gotten me nowhere.
Maybe it’s time to play a little dirty to make him realize how it feels.
I pull out my cellphone. In emergencies, there’s only one person I ever need to talk to, and this counts as a Code Red alarm alright. Me, Dash—and Blake, out on the town tonight?
“Tegan?” I beg, when she picks up the phone. “I need help!”
Tegan meets me at the B&B after we wrap filming for the day. “Is this weird?” I check, worried, as I let her in. “Me asking you for help with your brother like this?”
“Medium-weird,” Tegan replies, following me into the sitting room. Right now, the downstairs is empty, and there’s a roaring fire in the grate: perfect to snuggle up on the couch for a girly gossip session. She tucks her legs up under her and pulls a blanket down from the back of the couch. “Just promise me now, if things work out, you won’t tell me anything about your sex life. I don’t want to know!”
“Eww, no!” I laugh. But the thought of actually going that far with Blake sends a new wave of nerves through me. I push it aside. “How’s Ryland and the house?” I ask, not wanting to be totally self-absorbed.
Tegan rolls her eyes affectionately. “He’s great. The house, not so much. I’m trying to think of it as an extended camping trip.”
I snort. “Because you always loved the great outdoors.”
“Hey!” Tegan hits me with a cushion. “You weren’t much better. Remember that outward bound hike they made us do in tenth grade?”
I groan at the memory. “Oh my God. It rained for two days, you twisted your ankle, and I got poison ivy!”
“And that bitch Lexi put bugs in our sleeping bags,” Tegan shudders. “You screamed so loud, you woke up the whole camp.”
“And then those hikers came to investigate because they thought we were all being murdered!” I laugh.
“Whatever happened to Lexi anyway?” Tegan muses. “If karma works at all, she’ll be washed up somewhere with a former football star, crying herself to sleep every night.”
“Please,” I snort. “Girls like her don’t get what they deserve, they keep waltzing through life being shiny and perfect and adored.”
Tegan gives me a sympathetic smile. “It was bad, wasn’t it? High school, I mean. I hated it, but, it was different for me. I had you, right from the start, and my brothers looking out for me. But you…”
I was all alone.
I tuck the blanket around me and gaze at the fire. You’d think after all these years, I would be past it somehow. I’ve worked so hard to transform myself, build a life I always wanted. But the truth is, sometimes I still feel as lonely and insecure as I did back then. I’ll walk into a room and have the nagging feeling like everyone is whispering
about me; look around the set on lunch breaks and get hit by that same anxious panic that I don’t have anyone to sit with. My time abroad was good for me, it forced me out of my comfort zone, and gave me a blank slate to start fresh, but I don’t think anyone can wipe away the past completely: those scars will always be there, no matter how faded and healed.
“I should be over it, I know,” I admit quietly. “But…I don’t know. I spent my whole childhood on the outside. Following my parents around, and then being stuck at that school, before you came along.” I meet Tegan’s eyes. “It’s hard to shake so many years of loneliness, that’s all. Feeling different, feeling like I’m not good enough.”
“I know that one.” She matches my sad smile. I reach over and squeeze her hand, feeling a pang of regret. Tegan may have her life together now, but the past few years haven’t been easy on her. She gives me a quick smile. “It’s OK. But I understand, it’s not easy to move on, and leave all your old fears behind.”
There’s a tap at the door. We both turn. Mrs. Olsen is in the doorway. “Can I interest you girls in some hot cocoa?” she asks.
“Yes!” we answer in unison. I laugh. “That sounds amazing, thank you.”
“And I just baked up a fresh batch of cookies.” Mrs. Olsen smiles and bustles back to the kitchen.
“You’re so lucky, she’s like the ultimate grandma,” Tegan sighs. “Can I move in? Pretty please?”
I laugh. “You’re the one with that beach-front mansion,” I remind her.
“You mean, Dex is. But you’re right, it’s pretty much mine too,” Tegan grins. “Especially now that our hot water is out again. I went over to take a bath the other night and ended up staying two hours. It was amazing.”
Mrs. Olsen comes back in and sets a tray on the coffee table. “Here you go, girls. Chocolate chip and gingersnap.”
“You’re the best,” Tegan beams. The phone rings in the next room, and Mrs. Olsen turns.
“I better get that. You let me know if you need any more.”
I laugh. “This is enough to feed an army!”
She bustles out, leaving us alone again. I reach for a cookie and demolish the whole thing in three bites. “I’m never leaving,” I vow, savoring the sweet chocolate taste.
