“In the fridge,” he says.
“Yes. There’s a roast in the fridge. I thought it would be nice. I was going to put it on when I’ve finished trying these clothes on.”
Looking to Teagan, I shrug and push the situation a little further. “Maybe if I were wearing heels?”
“No heels,” Harrison finally finds his words while he rubs the back of his neck and won’t make eye contact with me. “God. No heels.”
Teagan moves towards him and takes hold of his hand to direct him to the sofa. “We can do a fashion show. Riley will try on the lingerie that you’ll wear for the shoot, and when you give the right reaction, that’s the one we’ll use.”
As Teagan turns, Harrison mouths to me “No” with his eyes wide open. I love to see him tortured.
“Next one, Riley,” she says. “I have to be out of here in another half an hour and decisions have to be finalised.”
I hurry back to my room and unbutton the one holding the front of the robe together. The next item is a white two-piece, which resembles a swimming costume more than honeymoon attire, but I put it on anyway. The cups just skim my nipples, and I know this one won’t make it past the censor board. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to make Harrison squirm. I slide my feet into the heels he asked me not to wear and step out the door. I check Harrison’s reaction first, and he’s looking everywhere but at me.
Giving Teagan a little smile, I say, “Don’t think this one is going to cut it. A bit too revealing for daytime TV, don’t you think, Harrison?”
Quick nods are all I manage to get out of him as I spin around and go back. Choice number three is a sheer baby doll negligee that makes me resemble a FemBot. Harrison appears pained as he looks straight at me when I enter the living room again. His eyes rise higher than my chest to meet mine.
“No,” he says with all certainty.
“That’s a no. The last one,” Teagan calls out while getting to her feet and following behind me. “I’m going to have to help her get into this one. Don’t you move.” As soon as the door shuts, she whispers, “Now if this doesn’t make him cream his jeans, he’s dead inside. Or gay.”
I pull the panties on while Teagan lays out the stockings and garter belt. The bustier fits snug around my waist but is tighter around the chest and makes my breasts look even bigger. There’s no way I can do or undo all the little hooks at the back.
“Jesus. Are you sure this is my size? Struggling to breathe,” I say, trying to shift the wire sticking into my ribs. My breasts look twice their size, and I have to admit, I don’t mind how they appear, it’s just the pinching that’s the problem.
“Yes. That’s the right size. I’ve been dressing you for years and I know it’s uncomfortable. So. Thigh highs. Garter belt—” Her ringing phone stops her. “Yep. Yep. Yep. On my way,” she says as she hangs up. “Right. Crisis on the lot back home. I have to hit the road. Okay. So, dress will come with me. I’ll take those others back. I think this is the winner. Divine. Make sure you don’t ruin it.” She gives me a wink and pulls me in for a quick hug. “Personally, I think he would have said yes to any one of those outfits if I hadn’t been here. We have had a running bet of who will kill who out of you two. I think this will slay him. Won’t be hard for someone to help undo all those little hooks.”
Teagan slips out of the room and shuts the door behind her as I call for her to stay. Even I’m not comfortable in stepping out in this. Pulling on my robe, I slip it over my sexy straight jacket while looking for some pants. My folded-up pyjama shorts will have to do as I can’t let her leave. There’s no way I can get out of this bustier without assistance. I run from my bedroom to the front door while making sure the robe is closed. I can hear Harrison call out “What’s wrong?” as I yell out for Teagan to stop. But she doesn’t.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
When I stop short, he runs into the back of me. His hands land on my shoulders, and we steady ourselves, and I squeeze the satiny material around my fingers.
“She just forgot something,” I say and step around him. My head’s a mess, my skin’s aflame. I’m not keen for this awkward discussion, so I choose to avoid the elephant in the room and walk away to get changed.
“Riley?” he calls as I shut the door.
“Yeah?” I catch sight of myself in the mirror and whip the robe open. I look ridiculously put together in these heels, tights, and my dorky PJ bottoms while the top half of me is all sin except for the sloppy high bun piled on my head and held in place with a clip.
“I’m just going to have a shower and then I can help you put the roast on.” His voice sends a shiver down my spine as he speaks from behind the door.
The roast is already prepared and just needs to be put in the oven, but I call out a thank you anyway.
By the time the shower’s stopped, I’m still no closer to getting this vice off. I’ve twisted. I’ve turned. I’ve taken everything else off bar the bustier and I’m seriously considering going at it with some scissors. No amount of yoga or forcing myself to bend in positions I’ve never been in is going to get this damned thing off.
“Are you still in there?” Harrison calls, and I have to admit defeat.
“I’ll be right out.” I lie and pull on my baggy sweatshirt. The girls are sitting high and out, and it’s noticeable that I’ve got something on underneath, but it will have to do. I’m a far cry from the ‘sex kitten for her new husband’ effect we were going for as I walk out in my yoga pants, trainers, and join him in the kitchen.
“You look nice. Sporty. What temperature does the oven go on?”
I tell him, and we have to wait for it to heat. Everything else has been organised, so all we can do is either run lines, talk, or ignore each other.
“Wanna play a game?” he asks, and his chirpy demeanour is unsettling.
“Depends on the game.” I close the fridge door, and Harrison sets off to the bookcase in the living room.
He rubs his hand over his chin while he scans for the one he wants.
“Oh, well, we have two choices. Monopoly or Guess Who?”
I give him a shrug and say I don’t mind.
“Monopoly first, then. So shooting went well today. Not sure where they were going with the footage. There’s nice scenery around here,” he says.
I could have sworn he was looking at my chest when he said the word ‘scenery’.
“Oh no. I hate to disappoint you but,” he says, and I brace myself for the hurt.
Don’t cry in front of him. Don’t cry.
“There’s no board. We can’t play.”
Letting out the small breath this python corset is allowing me to breathe, I tell him it’s no big deal. “I packed some cards if the other game pieces are missing.”
Harrison returns the boxes to the shelf while I dig into my suitcase. Another carry over from my grandmother. She used to always pack a deck of cards to while away the time. Leaning over is making me light-headed, and the room spins as I right myself and drop the cards onto my bed. I reach behind myself, and my fingers can’t get the clasps to the right angles to release them. In fact, somehow, the thing feels tighter, and my ribs are screaming.
“Going to hustle some poor sap out of some money?” he asks as he stops at my door.
I drop my hands, and he glances to me, to the cards, then back to me.
“Are you okay?”
The second he asked, I shook my head. The shallow breaths have turned into gulps, and I use the last of my mental clarity to take off my shirt. My breasts are at spilling point, and Harrison’s eyes bog out of his head.
“Stop being a pervert and help me out of this thing. I feel like I’m going to pass out.”
“Jesus. Why are you wearing that?” He motions for me to turn around and sets to work on undoing the eyelets. “Don’t pass out on me. I’m working as fast as I can.”
I wince from the pinching and pulling the top in just a bit tighter, and my eyes start to water. I gain a little relief
as each one comes undone. Taking a bigger breath each time makes my ribs ache even when the last one is released. I hold it to my body at the front as our eyes meet in the mirror.
“Hey. Don’t cry,” he says. “I can handle you screaming at me but not the tears.”
“Damned Teagan left me in it.”
“Why?”
That was an answer I didn’t want to give. “To torment me.”
“Or was it to torment me?” His blue eyes continue to stare at me. He has no need, but his feather-light touch moves down my spine. “I meant what I said before. About you in those clothes. I like you best when you’re fresh-faced and in low-key gear. Natural. Beautiful.”
While we hold each other’s gaze, I turn slowly, and it feels like he’s going to kiss me. His gentle graze of pushing my hair behind my ear causes me to swallow hard.
“Did Clara set your homework to compliments?”
He flashes that smile that breaks my heart a little every time I see it. “No. She did set honesty, though. Anything you want to say?”
Do I come clean? Put my heart on the line? Let every single one of my walls fall?
Harrison has been on the brunt of my worst; could it be possible that he wants my best?
“I think the oven’s ready,” I say.
His jaw ticks as that’s clearly not the answer he wants, and his hand drops. “Better get the roast in and bring your wallet.”
Taking regular breaks to check on the roast and to get the other vegetables on, we are sitting across from each other at the small table. The water glass he set down for me sits next to the tidy pile of cash. He refused to let me shuffle the cards after losing the third time in a row, thinking it was a fix.
“How are you doing that?” he asks as I use the back of my hand to add the kitty to the pile.
“Keep shuffling. I’m going to check on the roast and put the veggies in.” I do that then refill our waters. I take my seat and rub my hands together. “Deal them out. Can’t blame me, you’re the one dealing.”
I take my cards and put my ante in the middle of the table. Harrison puts the last of his in the pile, and I think for a moment I will let my hand fall, but he’s been such a good sport about losing that I keep going.
“And I’m not looking to offend. You do know how to play, don’t you? I’ve never seen anyone lose so badly at Snap,” I say.
“Want to play something else?”
“I’ll put it all in for the best of Old Maid.”
“I have nothing left to play with.”
“I’ll play for truths.”
I use my forearm to scoop all the change and notes we had. There’s even a thumbtack in the kitty. He deals seven cards each.
Eyeing off my cards, I decide to go high first. “Do you have a ten?”
“I can’t believe you beat me at Old Maid,” I shriek while Harrison gleefully organises his winnings.
Thankfully it was only fifty dollars, but that’s all we had before pulling out the Mastercards. I’ve had a good time and enjoyed his company. Harrison rises and grabs a bowl from the sink to put the loose change in. The table is clear, yet he shuffles the cards again.
“High card wins.”
“Wins what?”
“A truth.”
Flicking the sides as he sets the cards down between us, he repeats himself, and I feel the need to bring up our homework. I can easily think of ten things to compliment Harrison about but I don’t want to do that. I want honesty. Not sure how this is going to play out when Clara hears I skewed the homework to my advantage.
“High card gets a truth.”
He makes his pick and shows it’s a five. My eyes meet his, and I make my cut and hold it out for him to see. He pulls his stare away first to look at his card. He gives me a nod, and I know I have the high card.
“What do you want to know?”
“Did you cheat at Old Maid?”
Clapping his hands loudly above his head, he yells, “Yes. Cut!”
Calling him a playful unsavoury name, I slap the back of his hand when he grabs to cut again, and we both laugh. He gives me that look that makes my insides squirm. He proudly holds up a two, and I turn my card to see I have a queen.
“Did you really cheat?”
He laughs at me again. “Yes. Now stop doubting me, you’re wasting chances of a good question.”
He picks the pack up as I keep laughing. Putting the deck down, he gives it a double tap before making his cut. Ace. Fuck.
“No point in even cutting,” I say, and he turns the card to see.
“Why did Teagan leave you in that corset?”
I give a shrug. “You’ll have to ask Teagan for that answer. Thank you for getting me out of it.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to help when she left?”
Tapping the deck to signal that it’s not his turn to ask a question, I cut the pack and get an eight. He’s not happy that I’m not answering but at least he picks up another card. A seven.
“Ohh. So close,” I say. “Why do you have to leave the set by six every night?”
The buzz of the oven is really not required when the heavenly scent of the roast has been wafting through the air for the last ten minutes. We both rise and move into the small kitchen. Harrison empties the oven while I get the plates and put them on the racks to warm.
“Cooked to perfection,” he says and covers it to rest. “I have a long-standing engagement at half six, and that requires me to leave by six.”
“What’s her name?”
“I’ll give you that one for free if you give me one for free.”
Reining my jealousy in, I give him a nod.
“Her name is Amy.”
Wanting to ask more about her, I don’t because I’m too busy hiding a breaking heart. My brain’s heard it. He has a girlfriend, and now my heart is catching up. I knew the possibility was always there, but to actually hear it cements my thoughts that his heart is not for me.
“Pretty name.” I give my best fake smile and cross the space to clean up the table. Suits her. The blonde from the nightclub is Amy. Well, that answers that question.
“When was the last time you went on a date?” he asks.
For the first time in a week, I remember Kit. Pulling a face, I ask him to define date. Kit and I met at a club and shared a drink. The next time we met up we did the same. My body sags when I realise I haven’t been on a date for three years.
“If you have to think that long,” he says, “it’s been a while.”
“Shut up!” I laugh.
Cutting the deck, he wins the highest again. The next cut of the deck is in my favour.
“Will you let me read what you’re writing?” I ask.
Harrison’s hand falters on the deck of cards before he looks at me. “It’s not finished.”
“I don’t mind.” I’m going to have to give him something personal for him to give up his. “I have always wanted to have a hand in directing.”
Hearing a little about me seems to spur him on because he gets up from the table, goes into his room, and returns with his laptop. “It’s the first draft.”
He leaves me to read in peace. I’m floored that this is the first draft. It’s good. It’s really good. It’s a story about a woman who has no idea this guy is in love with her. I dart my gaze back and forth over his words so filled with emotion, sadness, and fun. Harrison doesn’t ask what part has made me laugh and he gives me the time it takes for me to reread some sections that make my heart ache. Parts of the story sting a little too closely, and I know this is art imitating our lives. A stupid giggle comes out when I see **add a sex scene** mid-scene. Harrison has kindly refilled my glass while I continue to read. The story is unfolding where the hero has done something that causes me to cringe. Having been made to look the fool, I never thought Harrison would be redeemable, yet here I am, having a change of heart about him.
“Does she give him a second chance?”
Standing behind me, Harrison le
ans forward to see where I’m up to. “You’ll have to keep reading.”
“I don’t like stories that end with characters having their hearts broken.”
“Sometimes they have to hurt in order to heal. Not everything is a happy ending.”
Again, with his proximity, I’m yearning for him to just lean forward and kiss me.
“If they both truly want each other, why can’t they work it out?” I ask.
“Very valid question. I was thinking we could eat outside.” Harrison points to the veranda, and the moment is gone. “If we don’t get eaten by mozzies.”
I take the cutlery and drinks out to table and set our places. When I return, Harrison is already carving, and I pull the dishes out of the oven to plate up the vegetables in our comfortable silence. We carry our own plates, and I sit down while the sun changes the sky.
“Just be a minute.” He returns with a citronella candle and sets it on the banister. “Mozzies can suck the blood of someone else tonight. Thank you for dinner. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
I’m about to talk to him about the shoot when his phone starts to ring. He looks down and then to me.
“You’re fine to take it,” I say.
He presses a button, and the phone stops ringing. “That call can wait a little longer.”
By his declining the call, I realise I haven’t had one phone call from anyone who’s not work-related in the time I’ve been here. My mother calls me every second day if there’s an unsavoury headline, while I haven’t heard from my father in years. We tried to reconnect, and by ‘we’, I mean me. Turns out, he’d much rather spend time with his wife and their children than be reminded of the person who made his life so horrible. In the end, I put in as much effort as he did, and that resulted in us becoming estranged. My mother wouldn’t even know I was out here filming on set. The last time I rang her, she told me I was interrupting her reading. I didn’t want to do that again so I haven’t called. My parents taught me well in how to hold a grudge. Hmm. Maybe that’s something to speak to Clara about.
By the time I lift my last mouthful, his phone starts to ring again, and he looks to me.
Off Screen Page 13
