The rest of filming went by in a blur. I could hardly focus on the actors, Alessandra and Logan—Allison and Mark—as they filmed one of the final scenes of the whole movie. It was weird, seeing things filmed in weird orders, but Kane had told me earlier in the day that it was just the way things were done in order to best utilize the time they had. Because the school was only available to them for the week, they had to break things up and film all the scenes that would take place at the school location in one sweep of well-planned filming.
You would never know that what we were witnessing wasn’t real life. Alessandra and Logan were brilliantly talented, their chemistry off the charts, but bottom line—their performances were breathtakingly beautiful.
Kirby left shortly after Kane had wrapped filming for the day. She gave me a wink across the room as her and Grant packed up their gear and headed to the trailer to clean up and prepare for the morning. I had told her when I returned from grabbing her stuff earlier that Kane would be taking me home later. She didn’t ask questions, just gave me a smile and continued to powder the nose of one of the extras.
Now, I’m waiting in Kane’s trailer for him to make sure the rest of the crew closes the set before heading off. I take a hearty gulp from the glass of wine Kane poured me before walking out the door ten minutes earlier with the promise of returning quickly.
Fortitude of strength in the form of liquid courage.
I reach out to the bottle of wine chilling on the table and refill my already empty glass. Looking around, I notice how homey it looks for being his temporary home away from home.
It’s not large, but it’s inviting. There’s a small kitchen area; however, after peeking in the fridge, it’s clear he’s never used it. Behind the kitchen is a doorway that leads into a bedroom. I looked, but quickly closed the door when I saw some of his shoes neatly lined in the corner. All of Kirby’s earlier comments came rushing back. I slammed the door so hard that I startled myself when the noise rang out around me. The other side is a worn couch and television set up. And the middle of the room, where I’ve determined is the safest spot to be, holds a small four-person table and chairs.
Middle ground. Away from the bed … and those shoes. Not on the couch where things would feel a little too intimate for me. Safe.
Ugh. There’s that word again. I’m starting to hate that word.
I look over at the couch again. It would be safer than the bed, but not something I would have picked because it wasn’t the stupid safe choice.
Screw it.
Grabbing the bucket holding the wine and ice in one hand and my glass in the other, I walk over to the couch and place the bucket on the coffee table. Then I spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to find a position I can feel good about. When I relax and lean back, I feel like my pants are too tight and my gut has some sort of neon sign saying ‘hey, look at me.’ Scooting to the edge makes me look about as nervous as I feel.
Dang it.
Finally, after draining my second glass, I settle on the couch and make a mental note to keep my back straight so my pants don’t get so tight around my middle.
I was just about to reach out and refill my glass—again—when the door clicks and Kane climbs in. His eyes roam from the kitchen to the table, and when he sees that I’m settled on the couch, his eyes go soft. Clearly, he thought I would have picked the table too.
“Get started without me?” he asks with a nod to the bottle in my hand.
“Hey, you’re the one who poured the first glass,” I tell him, a little too loudly, and then—to my horror— I giggle.
Giggle.
I don’t giggle.
He shakes his head, and his smile grows slightly.
“You make me feel so weird.” Uh. Hello? Filter … did you decide to just take a hike and leave me?
He laughs softly but doesn’t move toward me.
“Like really weird.”
“Good weird?” he questions, that darn smile not dimming at all.
“Even your teeth are handsome.” His left brow arches. My eyes follow the movement and all thoughts about his impeccable teeth are abandoned. “Do you pluck your eyebrows?” God, Willow, shut up.
“No, Willow.”
“Well, they’re really nice eyebrows.”
“Thank you.” He laughs. He looks at the bottle, over halfway empty, and then back at my face. “Are you drunk?”
“I didn’t think so five minutes ago, but I think I’m well past tipsy.”
He lets out a low, but deep, laugh and finally moves toward me. “Let’s get some of that food you didn’t think we would need.”
I follow his movements when he walks over to the table and leans down to collect a cooler placed near the back wall. My eyes move down from his face, and I watch the fabric of his black tee shirt pull against his muscles. His forearms flex when he lifts the cooler, and before he turns, I note how good his butt looks in his denim jeans.
“Is it hot in here?” I ask and lean back to fan my face. “It feels hot.”
“It’s not hot, Willow,” he responds, bringing the cooler over and sitting next to me on the couch.
Right next to me.
Not a few spaces down to leave plenty of space between us. Nope, right next to me, so close that his thick thigh presses against mine. The heat his touch brings feels like a scorching burn through the fabric of our pants.
“Hey,” he says, his hypnotic voice soft like smooth velvet.
“Hi,” I squeak.
“Are you nervous?”
I nod. “Uh, clearly. I just sucked back the majority of this bottle trying to calm myself down.”
His laugh is low. His eyes are shining brightly. “What makes you so nervous around me?” He turns his attention to the cooler and pulls out some grapes and cheese slices.
Pulling a plate from inside, he arranges a few slices before passing it over to me. I look at the plate as if it’s a snake about to bite me. I hate eating in front of people. I always wonder if they can hear each bite and then swallow as it settles in my stomach.
Reaching out, I take the offering and pick up one of the grapes, plopping it in my mouth and chewing, not taking my eyes from his.
“Willow, talk to me.”
I grab a slice of the cheese and swallow it down before I speak. “You’re really intimidating.”
His brow furrows. He doesn’t speak, but nods, waiting for me to continue.