by Amity Cross
A woman walking the other way stopped and did a double take as he passed, and he kept on walking, totally oblivious. I narrowed my eyes, downed the last of my hot chocolate and began packing up my laptop.
Jude knew the effect he had on women, of course he did. That man was far from an imbecile, and I had the nagging feeling that he knew I was falling over myself for him and exactly how hard, too.
Why had I let him worm his way into my apartment? Shit, shit, shit.
That was the thing about addictions. You never knew you were hooked until you were well and truly down the garden path.
* * *
Sitting on my couch, my laptop open on the coffee table, I stared out the window and wondered where the hell Jude was.
I’d never waited around for a guy. Well, technically I had, but not like this.
His name was James, and he was my first ‘adult’ relationship. We’d met online and talked a little, and he seemed friendly enough. A few months later, he’d moved to Melbourne from Sydney, and we fell into things. I was lonely, and he was new in town, so it was easy, and I was happy to let it happen because I was terrified of being knocked back by a stranger. It wasn’t until a few months later that I realized we were in it for the wrong reasons, and by that time, I knew I’d been waiting for him to come around, but he’d already gone cold on me. I’d desperately wanted it to be like the romances I’d dreamed up while I was writing, but reality had never swung that way. I wasn’t sure it ever did, which was probably why the romance industry boomed year in, year out.
The too long, didn’t read version was that he dumped me for a much prettier, well-adjusted goth woman with two Norwegian Forest cats. That was pretty much the base camp for my romantic rendezvous over the years. I’d had a few semi-boyfriends since then, the pinnacle being the guy, who I had really fallen for by the way, who left me for a woman he’d been seeing in another country at the same time he’d been seeing me. The punch line was he’d never told me we weren’t exclusive.
My love life had always been a disaster, but crushing on Jude was like a new high score. He was the ultimate form of self-torture there was, especially since I was dealing with Tessa Donahue. Remembering her threat at the office the other day, I cringed. I was playing with fire even entertaining a friendship.
By the time three p.m. hit, I was sure he wasn’t coming, and I scolded myself for waiting around on a guy I had no hope with. I’d worked my way through about eighty percent of the episode anyway, so I wasn’t sure he could sway me to change the way the script had gone. If I had his number, I would’ve sent him a text to tell him not to bother. Not in a bitchy way, in an ‘you don’t have to worry, I’m already done, so go make plans with your girlfriend’ kind of way.
Eventually, when the buzzer went off, I’d worked myself up into a ball of anxiety. Suddenly, the apartment felt the same size as that elevator back in Melbourne. A three-by-four box of unresolved sexual desire. Maybe I’d have to play with myself the moment he left to get it out of my system once and for all.
Pressing the button on the intercom and playing it cool like I didn’t know it would be him, I said, “Yeah?”
His reply came back straight away. “It’s Jude.”
Buzzing him in, I opened the front door and went back to my laptop. Best to play it casual.
After what felt like the longest three minutes in the history of time and space, there was a knock, and Jude stepped into the apartment. “Hey.”
I smiled. “Hey.”
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, looking sheepish. “I didn’t have your number and the thing went a little later…”
“It’s cool,” I said with a shrug.
“I was doing a photo shoot,” he went on, closing the front door behind him.
“Oh?” I stood and ventured into the kitchen.
“Nice place,” he declared, running his gaze over my meager belongings. “It’s very…clean.”
It was clean because I didn’t own anything substantial—just a bunch of clothes—and I frowned, knowing that the place didn’t exactly reflect my tastes or personality.
“I just came over here with a suitcase,” I countered, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I was never a believer in having a lot of stuff. Stuff doesn’t make you happy. At least, not for me.” Moving homes every six to twelve months had instilled the less is more in me from birth, and I never had the money either, so there was that.
“A woman who’s smart with her money,” Jude said thoughtfully. “I like it.”
“Until Hurricane Candy takes you shopping,” I added.
He laughed, his whole face animating.
I stood awkwardly for a moment before blurting, “Do you want a drink? I’ve got some cider in the fridge.”
“Sure. Hit me.”
Opening the fridge, I pulled out two bottles and popped the lids. I handed him one before moving back to the couch.
“What episode are you working on?” he asked, turning the bottle in his hand to read the label.
“Five.”
“Any spoiler alerts I should be aware of?” he asked with a lopsided grin.
“I might have to get you to sign a non-disclosure agreement,” I quipped, much to his amusement.
“Do they have any guest writers coming in this season?” he asked, sitting next to me.
He was way closer than I thought was normal, and I began to pop and fizz as his leg touched mine. He took a long pull from his bottle of cider, and my gaze dropped to his Adams apple, which bobbed up and down as he swallowed.
Shit, even his neck was attractive. How was I going to function?
“They have Brian Masters writing an episode,” I said, feeling my entire body tense. “He’s coming in next week to consult.”
“Oh yeah,” Jude said, putting the bottle down on the coffee table. “They had him do one last season. He’s a good guy.”
“You say it like he’s normal.”
“He’s just a dude, Lux,” he said with a chuckle.
“Yeah, a talented dude who intimidates me.” The guy had written on pretty much every top rated science fiction and thriller show on the airwaves, and I was meant to be chill about it?
Jude seemed to think the idea was outrageous. “You don’t need to be intimidated. That’s insane.”
He intimidated me too, but that was way too personal to bring up—not to mention it would be whacked if I told him right now. There was no escaping that landslide once it began.
“It’s still a brand new world for me,” I said, trying to cover up my awkward thoughts. “Novels are very different to scripts.”
“I bet.”
“In a script, you have to say so much within a certain amount of time. In novels, you can go wild with imagery. Lots versus a little, you know?”
When he didn’t reply, I glanced at him out the corner of my eye. He was smiling at me like he knew a secret I didn’t, and it got underneath my skin.
“What?” I asked, my brow furrowing.
“Who would’ve thought that you were the same girl who got stuck in that elevator with me?”
It was meant as a compliment, at least I thought it was, but all I heard was the word girl. I didn’t want to be seen as the younger kid sister. I wanted to be a woman. A woman he saw as his equal.
“Why are you looking at me like I just stomped on your kitten?” Jude asked.
Narrowing my eyes, I placed my bottle of cider against my lips and took a slow sip, trying to think of a plausible answer that didn’t sound like I was a spoiled brat. The cool liquid ran down my throat, and I thought I had it.
“It wasn’t one of my proudest moments,” I said truthfully.
“Maybe not, but I was the loser who tweeted it.” And there he went, blinding me with his dazzling wit once more.
Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I shrugged.
“You can say anything to me,” he said out of nowhere.
“Anything?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to take him up on tha
t offer, especially since his biggest pastime outside of acting was Tessa Donahue, who would have a pink fit if she knew he was here on my couch.
“I can tell something’s on your mind.” Yeah, you. “And you’re new here and being a fellow Aussie, I feel it’s my duty to make sure you’re settling in a-okay.”
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” I retorted before knocking back another mouthful of cider.
“Yep.”
“Well, since you asked,” I began with a sigh. “That day in the elevator… It still bugs me even though you keep saying I shouldn’t worry about it.”
“You shouldn’t worry about it,” he echoed. “The last thing I’ll say on the matter is that I’m glad you took the job.”
“You are?” Everything began to tingle, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the cider I’d practically skulled or the fact that my crush was sitting on my couch telling me he was glad I was here.
“Yeah,” he said like it was no big deal. “It’s done wonders for your confidence.”
My gaze dropped, and I nudged the laptop toward him. “I’m almost done,” I said. “You can have a look at what I’ve got if you want. It still needs some work, but if you have any pointers on the plot, I’m down for hearing them.”
Putting down his cider, he picked up the computer, sat it in his lap, and began to scroll through my work. Once upon a time, meaning four to six weeks ago, I would’ve died showing someone my writing before it was finished. In its current state, it was still raw and bleeding. If it was one of my novels, it would be my heart on the screen doing the dripping, and that was a much worse prospect considering it was his eyes on it.
“This is your first draft?” he asked, and I rolled my eyes.
“Why?” I asked carefully. He thought it was shit. It was probably a million rungs below what he was used to.
“It’s brilliant,” he said, moving the screen down so he could read the notes I’d left at the bottom, so I knew where I was going for the ending.
“You’re shitting me,” I blurted before I could hold it back.
“I’m not shitting you,” he replied with amusement. “You don’t need my help.”
He sat the laptop back onto the coffee table, and that was that. I kind of wished I needed a full-on critique so he could hang around a little longer.
Reaching for his cider, he asked, “So, are you liking it here?”
“Yeah,” I replied truthfully. “It’s different, of course, but I like it.”
Turning so he faced me, he pulled his knee up onto the couch, and it pressed against my thigh. It was one thing to have him sit next to me, but having limbs touch? The synapses in my brain began to misfire, and I took another sip of my cider to cover up my blush. I could blame the heat in my cheeks on the alcohol, right?
“How long have you lived in America?” I asked, trying to turn the focus back onto him.
“Five years,” he replied.
“Was is just acting that made you want to move?”
“Kinda,” he said, holding the bottle of cider against his chest. “One day, I decided I’d had enough of just floating through life. It was my twenty-first birthday, actually. Everyone tells you to go to university and earn some fancy degree and become a lawyer or some shit. All I knew was that I didn’t want that. It wasn’t my thing. I was working some shitty construction job for the money, and one day, I just decided I wanted to act.”
Mesmerized by his little monologue, I shook my head. “Just like that?”
“It wasn’t so cut and dry,” he said, his lip curling into a dreamy smile. “I came over here with a bag and a couple of thousand bucks in the bank. I went to so many auditions and got knocked back more times than I care to remember.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m kinda glad things went the way they did.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I was shit.”
I laughed at the absurd notion that Jude Atwood was a shitty actor. “I don’t believe it.”
“True story. I wouldn’t lie to you, Lux.” He winked, his lopsided grin adding to the swoon worthy thing he had going on right then. In that moment, he seemed real and refreshingly normal. I mean, he’d just told me a story that seemed a little more personal than he’d tell a reporter who asked the same question.
A ping signaled the arrival of a text message, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Glancing at the screen, he scowled.
“Shit,” he said. “I didn’t realize the time. I’ve gotta go.”
I tried not to choke on my disappointment as he downed the rest of his cider and placed the bottle on the coffee table.
“You should come out to the set sometime,” he went on, oblivious that I didn’t want him to go. “It would be great. You know, to see the script in production.”
Or just to see him in those delicious combat boots again.
“Sure,” I said with a smile. “Sounds great.”
“Tomorrow night,” he said. “We’re filming out in the forest.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Great. You’ll like it. I’d like to spend some more time with you. It’s hard to get any down time in this business.”
He wanted to spend more time with me? The thought sent shivers down my spine.
“Don’t look so panicked, Lux,” he said with a laugh. “I’ve taken stock out on you. I need to check in on my investment.”
“That isn’t helping your case,” I said, my eyes widening.
“The invite is there,” he said, his trademark grin appearing once more.
To my utter shock, he pulled me in for a hug that had me reeling and spinning out of control. He smelled good. All spice and musk that I wished I could inhale until I was high. When he let me go, it was a wonder I could stand up straight and not dissolve into a puddle on the hardwood floor.
“Thanks for the help,” I said with a hint of sarcasm since we’d done nothing at all. “I’ll be able to crank this script out in no time now.”
He laughed and opened the door. “Glad I could be of service.”
“I’m fast learning that you’re trouble, Jude Atwood.”
He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “With a capital t.”
Then he was gone, leaving behind an apartment that seemed way too empty without him in it.
Episode Ten
Three’s A Crowd
The next evening, I hitched a ride with Candy on her way out to the forest surrounding Atlanta.
They were filming a bunch of the night scenes for the first episode, and I thought I’d make good on Jude’s offer to go and see what happened behind the camera. Or so I told myself. I was like a crack addict, and my addiction was the little thrill that went through my body at the sight of my crush. Just one more hit…
Maisy seemed to think it was hilarious that I thought I had to ask permission to go visit the set. I guess I still felt like a fish out of water even though I was as welcome as they came. I wasn’t sure when I’d ever get over the surreal circumstances that had led me to be here.
The entire ride out to the set, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Jude had said to me the day before. I’d like to spend some more time with you. I was fast learning that being caught in a negative shame spiral with yourself was hard to get out of, especially when you had twenty-five years of practice. No matter how much I wanted to flip a switch and be done with it, that wasn’t realistic.
The car dropped me and Candy off at the end of a dirt road that looked like it was the beginning of a hiking trail. The only difference was the clearing was full of trailers and cars, and a blinding white light that signaled production was in full swing.
“I’m excited,” Candy declared as we made our way through the cars, trailers, and trucks and onto the actual set. “I’m always so amped up on the first day of a new season.”
“How many shows have you been on?” I asked.
“Three,” she replied. “The first two were only guest roles. A couple of episodes, nothing major. Naturals is
my first permanent role. Until they kill me off.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me around to face her. “Don’t kill me off. I like this job.”
I smiled at her good-natured plea to save her character’s life. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“I like having a friend on the inside,” she said as we started walking again.
Smiling to myself as we made our way to a trailer on the far side of the clearing, I realized that we were actually friends. I was friends with Candace Hunter.
“Set one oh one,” Candy declared. “That trailer is for costume, hair, and makeup. Keep away from the generators over there. Keep out of the crew’s way, too. They get grumpy.” Pointing over to where a bunch of burly men were setting up equipment, she said, “There’s a ton of lights and cameras that go into making a night shoot work. Look at all this stuff you don’t see on the other side of the camera, right?”
“Wow,” I said, my gaze running over a huge camera that was being wheeled across a track. I was pretty sure it was called a dolly, but I wasn’t up with all the terms yet.
“It’s not like a movie set. We have strict deadlines, and we have to nail our lines in as little takes as possible. This stuff costs a mint, so the better we are, the more money they make at the end of the day.”
“Money makes the world go around,” I said in agreement.
“We’re all little pieces in a huge production,” Candy declared philosophically.
My gaze followed the man I knew to be the director as he bossed around the men setting up the lights. “I’ll say.”
Candy eyeballed me to get my attention, and when I stared at her confused, she jerked her head to the side. Glancing to my right, I caught sight of Jude making a beeline toward us.
“I have to get into hair and makeup,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows up and down and promptly skipped off to the trailer leaving me in the lurch. Truthfully, I didn’t mind. You know, being a junkie and all.
“Hey, you came,” Jude said, standing before me.
