Just Like the Movies

by Natasha Preston

  “Indoor, adult crazy golf. With cocktails.”

  “What’s adult about it?”

  She deadpans. “Cocktails.”

  I chuckle. “Right.”

  “I can’t believe you’re back already.” Her voice is a sigh.

  “Believe it. I’ve missed home.”

  “Oh, please. I’ve seen pictures of your place in LA. It’s amazing.”

  “But it’s not home.”

  “You should get your parents over there to visit more often if you’re homesick.”

  I can read between the lines. “It’s not just my parents I miss.” Being away from her is like trying to breathe with only half a lung.

  She runs her finger around the rim of her wineglass. “You could always come home more often, Spence.”

  “There aren’t always long enough breaks when I’m filming. It takes almost a day of travelling to get home.”

  That’s what we’re separated by. A day. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime.

  She presses her lips together, and I read the indecision in her eyes. Does she give in and admit that it’s easier for her to come to me, or does she tell me why it’s so hard for her? It’s not just uni. She gets a week or two off every term.

  What is keeping you from me?

  I know she doesn’t have a lot of money, but I would pay. Hell, I would fly her out every weekend if she agreed.

  “I want to come to a lecture with you,” I tell her.

  Now, she laughs. “There are some women in my class who would be all over you. You’d never be able to pay attention.”

  “I do my job with dozens of people staring at me.”

  Why doesn’t she want me there? It’s not like I care about the course. I want to witness her in that environment. I want more than what she allows me to see. Damn it, I want it all. Maybe I can convince her to take the course online and come with me. We could get up every morning and have coffee on the balcony, watching the ocean, before I had to go to work.

  Fuck’s sake. That’s the shit you do with a girlfriend. She broke up with me.

  “All right,” she relents. “You can come to one lecture. I actually have to learn this stuff.”

  Holding my palms up, I smirk. “As if I would do anything to distract you.”

  Her eyes narrow. “You’ll be invisible.”

  I’ll never be invisible. “Absolutely.”

  “Do you think your parents really have a dessert?”

  “I’m sure as soon as we stop talking, they’ll bring it in. Right, Mum?”

  She walks back into the room with Dad trailing behind her. “What’s that, honey?”

  “Oh, please.” They were eavesdropping.

  “Who wants cheesecake?” she asks with so much enthusiasm, she sounds like a cheerleader.

  Indie laughs. “Sounds good.”

  I have missed the sound of her laugher more than anything.

  Five

  Indie

  I don’t want to leave but I can’t stay here forever.

  We’ve had dinner, dessert, and coffee. The thought of leaving to go home makes me feel a little dizzy. I don’t have long left with him. After the premiere in LA, he’ll get another job out there, and I will come home. I’m lucky to go. I wasn’t sure if I’d get to.

  Our lives are going in two different directions. It’s been like that for a while. I hate having an expiration date on our relationship. I’m on borrowed time. He’ll eventually realise he needs to move to the US on a permanent basis for work. If his parents join him, I don’t know when I would see them again.

  Andrew and Jodie went to bed ten minutes ago, and Spencer turned the TV on. We’re sitting in silence on his parents’ sofa, like we have done a million times before.

  But this feels different somehow.

  Everything is different.

  “What’s Ella like?” I ask.

  His co-star is unfairly beautiful and seems super sweet.

  He side-eyes me like we’re about to step onto a minefield. “She’s cool. Great at her job and genuine. You’ll like her when you meet her next week.”

  I’m not sure I want to meet her. There has been a lot of speculation surrounding them. Are they just friends? He’s never mentioned her much, which either means there’s nothing there or that he’s trying to spare my feelings.

  “She’s helped you a lot, huh?”

  “Ella knows the industry. I’m the unknown guy from England with no clue how things work on set. She took me under her wing. I probably would have choked without her.”

  I shake my head. “You wouldn’t. You were made to do this, Spence.”

  “What about you? Who’s been your Spencer while I’ve been away.”

  My face falls along with my heart. Ella is his replacement Indie?

  His mouth parts, reading my expression perfectly. “That’s not what I meant. It’s different with Ella, of course it is.”

  Different, like romantic?

  “I have Wren and Mila.” The room feels several degrees cooler.

  “Come on, you know I haven’t replaced you,” he says.

  “I know.” I bloody don’t. Ella’s the one he hangs out with over there now. How is that not the same as us?

  “Indie…”

  “We’re fine, Spence. I’m kinda tired, so I’m going to head out. I’ll speak to you in the morning, okay?”

  He grabs my wrist when I try to stand. “Don’t leave yet. I haven’t seen you in months. Please. I’ll put on one of those shitty budget romance movies you love.”

  I bite my lip, torn. On the one hand, I want to run, but looking into his stunning eyes, I want to stay here until I die.

  Okay, dramatic.

  “If you complain about how cheesy it is, I’m going to elbow you.”

  His face lightens with a smile. “Deal.”

  “I get to pick which one, too.”

  “I know the drill.”

  He hands me the remote, and I flick through the romance movie genre.

  “Jesus,” he hisses when I choose Love Against All Odds.

  I jab my elbow into his ribs, and he chuckles. “I don’t know why you pretend you don’t like these movies.”

  “They’re shit, Indie.”

  “They’re romantic. Who doesn’t want to be swept off their feet? To be the most important person in the world to someone else?”

  “You’re getting softer.”

  “No, you’ve just forgotten how soft I already was.”

  His eyes darken and drop to my lips. “I haven’t forgotten a single thing.”

  I press my legs together against the throb his words have caused. There is nothing I don’t remember, either. The very brief moments we were more than just friends are engrained in my mind. The feel of his lips and hands on my body still makes my heart fly. We didn’t even have sex.

  He turns his head and faces the TV. I suddenly wish I had left. Instead, I have to sit next to him for ninety minutes and pretend that my heart isn’t tearing apart.

  We settle in and watch the movie. I squirm and reposition myself a thousand times. The movie doesn’t make sense because I can’t focus. The air between us is so thick I can barely take a breath.

  He’s sitting so close to me; I can smell his subtle aftershave. It’s the same one he’s worn for years, and you have to get right up in his face to notice. It’s like he’s wearing a secret and only the people closest to him get to know about it. It’s my most favourite scent in the world. It means I’m home and safe.

  About forty minutes in, I’m positive I’m going insane. Faking a yawn, I say, “Okay, this movie is rubbish. I should go before I fall asleep.”

  Spencer’s eyes dart in my direction. “You think it’s shit?”

  “Uh-huh, and I don’t fancy the guy at all so it’s not worth it.”

  “Tall, dark, and handsome not your thing?”

  He’s described himself, which means it’s definitely my thing.

  “He’s not handsome to me but, hey
, if you fancy him, keep watching.”

  Spence laughs again, and the sound goes straight to my heart. He turns the TV off. “What is your type, Indie? You’ve not dated much.”

  “I don’t really have a type. I just want to be someone’s priority.”

  “So, a pimp who puts you first is okay?”

  I stand up. “If he’s a very handsome pimp, yes.”

  Spencer’s eyebrows pull together. He watches me with… annoyance? It sure looks that way. “You will not settle, Indie.”

  Rolling my eyes, I grab my bag and head to the door with him trailing behind me. “I’m kidding. I’m not going to go for the first guy who tells me I’m his everything, okay?”

  “Good. Are you awake enough to drive? I can take you home.”

  “I’m fine. I’m not the one jet lagged. You look tired.”

  “Thanks,” he mutters sarcastically.

  “Oh, you’re still pretty, even when you’re exhausted,” I say, touching his cheek. The contact sends jolts of electricity through my hand. I remove my fingers from his face.

  “Not sure if I want to be described as pretty,” he breathes, his gorgeous eyes alight.

  “Well, you are, golden boy.”

  He holds the door open for me. “Let me drive you.”

  “Then my car will be here.”

  “I’ll pick you up in the morning and bring you back.”

  “Spence, I’m fine to drive. I’ll see you for golf tomorrow night.”

  “Breakfast in the morning.”

  I place my hands on my hips. “Why are you so obsessed with me?”

  Shaking his head, he fails to withhold a grin. “Be here at nine.”

  “Bye, Spencer.”

  Leaving him is hard. The only time I feel settled is when he’s around. I hate being constantly on edge, but when I’m with him, all the other shit falls away. He’s like a life forcefield. Every one of my worries bounces off him when he’s near.

  I climb into my little car and reverse out of his drive. He watches me like he’s about to jump in the way of anything that could make me crash.

  It’s only when I turn a corner, and he disappears out of sight, that I sigh. He’s home. For now, at least. I’ll make the most of the time we have together. I also need to speak to my lecturer about getting the work I will miss Wednesday to Friday.

  I’m going to a premiere in LA! My savings are going to take a battering, but Spencer is worth it. The only person I would spend more time at home for is him.

  I pull up outside my house a few minutes later, and I take a breath. My stomach turns to lead. I get out and grip my keys in my hand so tightly, it hurts. The house is dark but that doesn’t mean no one is up.

  Opening the front door, I hear my dad’s heavy cough.

  He’s in the living room. Mum will, no doubt, be with him.

  I walk past the open door, sinking inside myself.

  She’s in there, as I thought, passed out on the sofa, clutching an empty bottle of vodka. Dad has one, too, but he’s not finished yet. The five empty beer cans on the floor are definitely done, though.

  “Indie,” he slurs. “Bring me the other vodka, would you?”

  I know better than to ask if he’s serious.

  My stomach clenches. “You’ve had enough.”

  “I’ll tell you if I’ve had enough, girl! I’m forty-nine fucking years old.”

  He’s fifty-three. He coughs again, holding his stomach as he almost doubles over. His skin is yellowing and dry—eyes sunken and dark. He’s a shadow of the man he once was in every way.

  I barely remember when we were happy, and they were sober. They began drinking heavily after a bad car accident that left Dad unable to work. He started hitting the bottle first, soon taking Mum down with him. Or rather, she jumped. Either way, I haven’t had fully functional parents since I was around the age of six.

  “Get the fucking thing,” he orders.

  I shake my head, swallow bile, and I head upstairs.

  In the background, I hear him grumble, probably swearing about his ‘useless daughter’. He’ll be asleep soon. When he trips over his words that much, I know he’s almost out of it. They’ll both wake somewhere around noon tomorrow and start drinking before they’ve even been to the toilet. I’ll be up around seven to check their pulse before I leave for the day.

  I climb the stairs two at a time, my keys digging into the palm of my hand. I’m burning all over. My scalp prickles.

  Get out of here!

  I hate them so much.

  Slamming my bedroom door shut, I bend in half and scream into my fist.

  Why can’t I matter more than the fucking alcohol? I’m twenty. Shouldn’t this stop hurting soon?

  I take ragged breaths until I’ve calmed down and am no longer shaking with anger.

  I straighten and look up to the ceiling. No crying. Today is the day that Spencer came home. I got to see my best friend. My parents will not ruin that.

  I’m changing into pyjamas when my phone dings.

  Spencer: Are you home?

  Indie: Yes, Mum.

  Spencer: Pack your shit and sleep here.

  The guest room at their place has only ever been used by me.

  Indie: I’m already in my pjs.

  Spencer: No one will see you.

  Indie: Goodnight, Spencer.

  Spencer: Breakfast.

  Indie. I’ll be there. Now sleep, Hollywood.

  I can see his smile at my last text, and my heart skips at the thought of it. I leave my room to pee and brush my teeth. Dad’s snoring rings out through the house.

  He’s probably dropped and spilt the vodka all over the floor, and it’ll be my fault.

  I don’t spend much time in the living room. It smells like a pub, and they’re always drunk in it. It takes me about ten seconds in the morning to stealthily check they’re both breathing. I’ve had a lot of practice.

  Spencer doesn’t reply again, so I put my phone on charge and curl up in bed. My parents can be arseholes all they like this week because I’ve got Spencer.

  Suddenly, my shitty life doesn’t seem so bleak.

  Six

  Spencer

  By eight forty-nine a.m., I’m watching the door.

  It’s pathetic really but, Jesus, I’ve missed being around her.

  I have so much making up to do. She didn’t say she was pissed that I’ve been so awful at keeping in touch, but she must be. I know I am.

  Mum and Dad are in the kitchen cooking a full English breakfast. I don’t think they’ve stopped smiling since I arrived home. All of us being together again feels like the old times.

  I hear her car before I see it. The thing sounds like it’s holding on by a thread. She’s had it for three years, since she passed her test, and it was ancient even then. I wish she would let me buy her a new one.

  “Indie’s here!” I announce.

  “Oh, good. I’ll put the kettle on,” Mum calls.

  I take a breath and run my hands through the dark, unruly curls of my hair.

  Indie parks in the drive, and I hear her car door open and close.

  Fuck it. I tug the front door open and my eyes land on the most beautiful thing on this planet. Shiny chocolate hair, the darkest eyes, and those toned curves in all the right places. She is perfection.

  “Morning.”

  She smiles, her shoulders losing tension. “Morning, Hollywood. I need coffee.”

  “Mum has the kettle on.” I step aside, and she walks past. This time there is no hug.

  I itch to pull her against my chest and hold her tight. I get to spend a whole week with my best friend again.

  She kicks off her shoes and rolls her head.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “Didn’t sleep well.”

  “You should have stayed here.” She never looks tired after sleeping here.

  Her eyes narrow. “Your ‘I told you so’ is not helping.”

  “What are we doing today? Before go
lf?”

  “Spending the day together, are we?”

  “Stop acting like you don’t already know this. We have a week, Indie.”

  Her face falls enough for me to notice the change. “You’re definitely staying out there then?”

  “For a while.”

  “Then what?”

  “It depends on what comes up. I want to keep working.”

  “Yeah, of course.” Her solemn expression disappears with a blink. “You’re clearly good at it. Do you know how many women are gushing over you from Quarantine’s trailer alone?”

  I shrug, still not quite used to all the attention. I can’t walk down the street without being asked to pose for selfies in LA. My notifications are off the chart every day, and Denny is busy fielding calls in his shiny office. Jared takes care of everything I need on the ground—the same ground as me because he has to be wherever I am.

  I’ve reached a level of fame where you can’t be trusted to get yourself to an appointment.

  Not this week, though. I’m here alone. We both get a break.

  “Come on, I still need that coffee,” she says, tugging on my arm until I follow her.

  “Hey, love,” Mum says to Indie, putting two mugs on the counter and giving Indie a quick hug. “I hope you’re hungry. Andrew has cooked enough for a small town.”

  Dad grumbles something about the lack of help Mum has been, and he cracks an egg into a pan.

  “I’m starving. This smells so good.” Indie says.

  While my parents dish up, Indie and I sip coffee by the counter.

  “What is that?” she asks, looking around me.

  I groan. “Nothing.”

  “No way, it’s a poster of you!”

  She’s far too amused by this. I don’t think her grin could be any wider.

  “Oh, funny, isn’t it?” Mum stops by us with a serving platter of sausages and bacon. “Mary down the road dropped it by first thing. Her granddaughter is a huge fan, apparently. Spencer signed it for her.” She quickly disappears into the dining room, leaving me with Indie again.