Gossiping, I’m sure. The smile slips from my lips and an insecurity I haven’t felt since college settles in my gut.
Everyone knows we’ve slept together.
And everyone’s talking about it.
“We’ve got two hours till showtime!” I hear off to my right as the assistant director walks from the set, checking his watch and then looking back at the clipboard in his hands. Nathan’s already walking over to me, finished with his conversation and finally having a break. Even if it is a small one.
“Mr. Hart!” a girl who’s no doubt in her late teens or early twenties calls out, jogging across the concrete floor and onto the set. As her heels click and she almost stumbles, Nathan turns his attention to her. He’s just being polite and courteous as he helps to steady her and she laughs off her clumsiness, but it doesn’t help that raw churning in the pit of my stomach. “Could I have your autograph?” she asks and pushes a DVD and Sharpie pen into his hands.
I can hear his rough chuckle from all the way over here as he slips off the black marker cap. While he’s looking down, the young woman looks at me and then quickly at the DVD, guilt written on her face.
It doesn’t matter. Plenty of women fawn over him. They’d kill to be in my shoes. Even just to be an actress. Snagging Nathan would be the sweetest cherry on top.
Even if it’s just for the weeks of shooting.
The thought is what breaks me, nearly making me sick. So much so that I don’t see Nathan until he’s standing right beside me, splaying his hand on my back.
“You alright?” he asks me and I try to appear fine, nodding my head and telling myself that what other people think doesn’t matter. “You don’t look like you’re fine, Hally,” he says as he takes another step closer to me, coming a little too close for just friends.
My eyes close as I take in a long, steadying breath trying to figure out what to say and what I want.
“It’s just complicated.” I finally settle on the truth and it hurts to even admit that much to him. I don’t want to fight. Not in the least, and I’m terrified that admitting anything to him is going to kick off a conflict that will fracture what we have forever.
“Is it the girl?” he asks me. “You’re going to have people asking for your autograph too, you know?” he says halfheartedly as if he’s oblivious to the fact that she lit up from his simple touch.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I tell him as I tilt my head and slip off the earring on my right ear. It’s cheap jewelry and part of the costume. I’ve had them in almost all day and I’ll have to put them back in tonight, but I’ve just realized how much they hurt. They’re too heavy.
I slip off the other as Nathan takes a half-step back and loosens the tie around his neck, clearing his throat. I imagine he wants to say something and doesn’t, either because we’re surrounded by people or because he doesn’t want to fight either.
This isn’t healthy, are the words on the tip of my tongue. There are only three weeks left though and once it’s over, it’ll be better for us to be over too.
Chapter 15
Nathan
* * *
I’m in over my head, but that’s how it’s always been with Hally.
“Good work today,” Stevens tells me as I unfasten the top button of my dress shirt, making my way off the set and toward my room.
I pause and glance up at him. He’s not a talker, like me in a lot of ways. “Thanks. I’ll be here all week,” I respond easily and with a bit of humor. I resume walking since he’s already looking back down at his schedule or lines or whatever’s in the stack of papers he’s holding.
I take a covert look around, searching for Hally, but not seeing her in the scattering of people. Filming’s almost over and a large number of people are gone. Still, a dozen or so always come to watch when we’re shooting and Hally’s usually one of them. My stride picks up speed and my gut churns, telling me something’s wrong when I don’t see her. She hasn’t missed a single shoot yet.
Ignoring the gut reaction, I keep moving to my room. I’m keeping to myself and making a beeline for my dressing room, not that anyone dares approach me. Hally may have taken me out of my shell a bit and thrown me off my game, but I’m still not the socializing type and everyone knows it.
Maybe she’s waiting for me. I know it’s wishful thinking, but even as I open the door to my room, I’m picturing her on my bed, waiting for me to lose myself in her.