Unwritten

We walk in silence, our footsteps tapping angrily on the street. The moon reflects off the ocean, the waves gently lap the shore, but it couldn’t be a less romantic midnight walk. I don’t understand it: one minute we were relaxed, kidding around in the bar, and then next, Blake is tense and pissed off, and I’m feeling pretty irritated too. What gives him the right to insist he takes me anywhere? I didn’t ask for an escort, and now he’s sulking like I forced him to walk me home.

We’re almost back at the cottage when Blake’s voice comes out of nowhere. “Watch out for Dash.”

I turn. “What do you mean? I thought you guys were friends.”

“We are,” Blake says quickly, “but he likes to have fun, that’s all I’m saying. You should be careful.”

“I can look after myself, thanks.” I roll my eyes. “And hey, maybe I like to have fun too.”

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“And I’m a big girl now,” I drawl. “In case you haven’t noticed.”

“I noticed.”

Blake’s voice is low. I feel a shiver, and glance over. He’s staring straight ahead, his expression still tense.

My pulse kicks. What does he mean? I wish I could just ask straight out; I feel like I’m stumbling around in the dark here trying to read his behavior for any clues to how he feels.

But there’s too much at stake to just blurt it out. I couldn’t bear it if I crossed the line and couldn’t ever take it back. The last time I was humiliated by my feelings for Blake, I crossed an ocean to get away from the embarrassment. This time, it isn’t an option—and I don’t have the air miles to make it further than Texas. And Tegan and Blake are like family to me. I couldn’t face losing them from my life.

“This is me.” I come to a stop at the end of the front path, relieved our awkward moonlit stroll is over.

Blake stops.

“Thanks,” I add begrudgingly. “For walking me back, I mean. It is kind of creepy out alone at night.”

He nods. “No problem.”

There’s a pause. I search for something to say. I don’t want to leave the night like this, not after we had such a nice time. “Ready for your scene tomorrow?” I ask.

Blake looks up. “I hope so. It’s weird starting with all the break-up scenes,” he adds, relaxing a little. “I wish there was more time to get a connection with Lila, and figure out our characters some more, before getting thrown in the middle of all these big emotional moments.”

“But you’ve read the script, right?” I ask. “You know what’s happened beforehand.”

He nods. “Yes, but only half the character ever comes from the script. The rest—the way you look at each other, the way you touch, all those little things—that’s all the stuff you figure out with the other actors, and the director too.” Blake’s expression becomes animated, and I can tell he’s really passionate about this. “It would be like us trying to have a big break-up fight right now. It wouldn’t mean anything without a whole history behind us, the little things we’d say and do that really mattered, you know?”

I don’t know. But I wish I did.

Blake pauses, looking bashful. “Sorry, I geek out over the acting stuff.”

“No! It’s fine,” I say quickly. “I like to hear about it. It’s my first time on a set, so I’m trying to learn everything I can.”

Blake looks over at me. “Why did you join the crew?” he asks carefully. “Tegan says you got hired a few weeks ago.”

“I guess it sounded like fun,” I say, trying to keep my voice bright. “And you know how much I love movies. I wanted to see what it was like behind the scenes.”

Luckily, my answer seems to satisfy Blake. “Well, this isn’t a typical shoot,” he says wryly. “It’s a pretty shoestring affair. We’ve already hit so many hurdles, it’s a wonder Dash even got to yell ‘Action!’”

“I can’t believe he really does that,” I confide, grinning. “I thought that was just something from the movies.”

Blake laughs. “I remember, you would always be curled up glued to those black-and-white movies you loved. I thought that was maybe why you went to Paris,” he adds. “So you could play out being Audrey Hepburn or something like that.”

“No,” I giggle. “But you do feel like you’re in the middle of one big movie set. Strolling along the Champs Elysees, and seeing the Moulin Rouge up in Montmartre.” I smile at the memories, then look over to find Blake watching me.

“Any Frenchmen audition to be your leading man?” he asks casually.

My heart skips again. “A few,” I say, trying to sound worldly and nonchalant. “I did have a passionate affair though,” I add. Blake frowns. “With the macarons at Laudree,” I explain quickly. “I don’t know how French women stay so slim when they’re surrounded by all those amazing pastries!”

“You look great,” Blake murmurs. He catches my eye, and I look away, blushing. There’s another long pause, but this time, it’s full of nervous anticipation.

“I should, um…” I gesture back at the cottage. All the lights are out; Mrs. Olsen’s other guests all safely tucked in bed by now.

“Right. Me too.” Blake swallows.

“Well, au revoir.” I smile brightly, and quickly lean up to kiss him on both cheeks. It’s a habit I can’t shake, but suddenly, the feel of him so close and his skin brushing mine sends a shock of awareness through my body.