Love Scene, Take Two

by Alex Evansley

  Bennett stares at him, her face unreadable.

  “What,” Teddy asks.

  “Nothing,” she says, shaking her head.

  Now Teddy’s staring at her, trying to figure out what to do next. She looks amused at least. Apparently he thinks reaching out to poke her in the side is a good idea. Bennett jumps back before he can get there.

  “Oh, man. You’re ticklish, aren’t you?” Teddy asks, walking toward her and trying to poke her again. “Or are you just this skittish around people?”

  “What kind of—stop!” She laughs and shoves his hand away. “What the hell kind of question is that? Of course not.”

  “You sure? Seems like you are,” Teddy says thoughtfully, taking a step forward for each one Bennett takes back. She tries to fake him out and bolt around him, but Teddy pokes her in the side twice before she can bat his hand away, getting a couple of squeals in response. “Come on, Caldwell, I thought you said you weren’t ticklish,” Teddy says, going after her again.

  “Seriously, stop—!”

  Teddy’s phone chimes with a new text message. They both freeze, glancing at its spot on the nightstand.

  “Nice, I guess you do have service down here,” Bennett says.

  “Guess so,” Teddy says slowly, straightening up a bit and still watching his phone.

  Bennett straightens up, too, but she keeps her hands raised between them, ready to fight him off again. It’s a tiny bit adorable, even after Teddy’s phone all but dumped an ice-cold bucket of your-girlfriend-is-texting-you over his head.

  “I’m not gonna tackle you, Caldwell. Chill,” Teddy jokes, walking past her just to prove a point. “I mean, I will if you want me to.”

  She snorts and drops her hands to her hips. “Don’t flatter yourself, superstar.”

  “Such delightful manners. Speaking of—how can I help with breakfast tomorrow? I make killer toaster waffles,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

  Bennett laughs this time. “Don’t worry about it—my mom loves to cook. You’ll probably offend her if you ask to help.”

  “You sure?” He grins as she rolls her eyes and turns to leave. “I’m great with butter-to-syrup ratios—”

  “Good night, Teddy,” Bennett says, pulling the bedroom door shut behind her.

  “Night,” Teddy calls. After she’s gone, he forgoes the new text on his phone from Chelsea, sets an alarm, and crawls into bed with his copy of Parachutes. He isn’t putting a lot of stock into landing this role, but he figures why not read the book anyway.

  You know, just in case.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Teddy wakes up well before his alarm the next morning.

  The first thought to cross his mind is that all his efforts to get Bennett out from behind the brim of her baseball hat last night made for a pretty interesting end to the evening. He stretches himself out underneath the duvet cover, knees and ankles cracking, and tries not to squirm when the second thought to cross his mind puts a guilty pit in his stomach.

  Chelsea.

  Teddy doesn’t know what’s going on between him and Chelsea, hasn’t for a while, but that doesn’t give him the right to go around flirting with other girls. And yes, he can admit there was some low-key flirting going on last night, but it was more accidental than anything.…

  Teddy opens his eyes and stares impassively at the ceiling fan and—okay. Maybe not so much accidental. He’ll own up to that.

  He should probably text Chelsea back today. It’s not cool of him to ignore her like this. Teddy gropes for the nightstand until his hand lands on his phone—turns out he has five new text messages and a voice mail. All from Chelsea.

  He doesn’t even want to know what the voice mail says. Especially after the third time he reads the “Fuck this. I’m done” text. That’s certainly a new one. Teddy tosses his phone onto the nightstand instead of responding and rips back the covers.

  Showering doesn’t bring much insight to the situation. It kind of makes it worse, actually. Teddy stands with his back turned to the spray, hot water hitting his neck and shoulders, and debates whether getting mad about the texts from Chelsea makes him a hypocrite. He’s the one who ignored her and spent most of yesterday with a girl he met fewer than six hours beforehand … but Chelsea’s the one who ditched him on the other side of the country and pretended like she didn’t do anything wrong.

  It’s not like he hadn’t seen this coming in the past few months, but it’s a whole different ballgame when “Fuck this. I’m done” is actually staring you back in the face.

  Does this mean they’re broken up?

  “Morning, Teddy,” Mrs. Caldwell calls from the kitchen when Teddy reaches the top of the steps. His hair is still damp and his phone is in his pocket, but the whole house smells like bacon, and that at least makes things a little better.

  “Morning,” he says cheerfully, rounding the banister and crossing through the living room.

  His eyes shift and land on Bennett. She’s next to Tanner at the kitchen counter, and it’s a nice change of pace to see her without a ball cap on. Her hair is a lot longer than he expected. And a lot wavier. She and Tanner turn to greet him, and Teddy is a tiny bit more grateful that he didn’t wake up to those texts from Chelsea in some hepatitis-ridden hotel room.

  “Smells great up here,” Teddy says.

  Bennett has a section of the newspaper in front of her and doesn’t look up when he sits down next to her. Tanner, on the other hand, is perusing the sports page and says, “Yeah, we’re just waiting for my dad to get out of the shower.”

  “How’d you sleep?” Bennett asks, turning the page of whatever section she’s reading. She still won’t fully look up at him, and Teddy isn’t sure what to make of it.

  “Really well—and wow, that looks amazing,” he says, eyeing the breakfast spread Mrs. Caldwell is setting up on their kitchen island.

  Then his phone chimes.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles, slipping it out of his pocket to switch it to vibrate. Chelsea’s name glares back at him on the lock screen (which—yikes. It’s just after six a.m. her time. Not the best sign). He’ll text her back after breakfast. It’s hard to deal with Chelsea on an empty stomach, anyway.

  “So your flight’s at two today, right, Teddy?” Mrs. Caldwell asks. In addition to tending to half a dozen pancakes on the electric griddle by the stove and frying up more bacon on a skillet, she’s also in the middle of rinsing out an enormous silver pot. A breakfast ninja.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Teddy says, then turns to Tanner. “What time are you trying to leave here, man?”

  “Maybe like eleven thirty-ish? My flight’s at one ten.”

  Bennett looks up at Teddy for the first time that morning and asks, “Does that still work for you?”

  Teddy manages to hold her gaze for a second. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he lies.

  * * *

  Breakfast is so good that it takes an extraordinary display of self-control for Teddy to wait until someone else goes for seconds before filling up his plate up again. (He doesn’t want to be that houseguest.) Finally Tanner makes the move, and Teddy almost loses his footing as he jumps up from his barstool.

  He digs into his second stack of pancakes while the Caldwells talk about the cookout they’re having later with their family—the one Bennett mentioned in the car yesterday. It sounds like it’s going to be awesome. Teddy sits and listens and looks at the view of the Caldwells’ dock from their kitchen windows. Whatever lake they’re on is gorgeous—lined with pine trees and multicolored houses and double-decker docks. There isn’t a cloud in the sky this morning, and Teddy isn’t positive, but he’s pretty sure what he’s feeling right now is FOMO.

  “Is the lake always this crowded?” he asks Bennett, nodding at all the boats already out.

  “Yeah, but only in the summer,” she replies.

  Teddy’s spent a good portion of breakfast trying to engage her in some kind of conversation. It’s not like she’s freezing him out or anything, but
it’s not like it was yesterday. Teddy can’t decide if she’s purposely being a little standoffish or if he’s hypersensitive to everything this morning.

  “Tanner, get off your damn phone at the table,” Mr. Caldwell says on his way to refill his coffee. “You know better than that.”

  Tanner jumps and hides it under the bar. “Sorry, Dad—I just got an e-mail from the airline, though. I think my flight got canceled.”

  “Canceled?” Mr. Caldwell repeats, the coffeepot paused halfway toward his mug.

  Tanner goes back to his phone and reads aloud, “Flight 1376, nonstop to Fort Myers, has been delayed indefinitely due to inclement weather in the Fort Myers area.”

  “That’s exactly what happened to my flight to Miami yesterday,” Teddy says, looking from Tanner to Mr. Caldwell.

  Mr. Caldwell hums. “Bet it’s that hurricane coming in. Last I heard it was heading for the Keys, though. Libby—pull up that radar app you have on your iPad for a sec, will you?”

  Teddy wasn’t even aware it’s hurricane season, but it must be pretty bad if they’re still canceling flights down in Florida. That would have sucked had he and Chelsea actually gotten down there. He would have been stuck with her complaining about the weather the whole time, and then they probably would’ve broken up during the evacuation.

  “Oh, wow,” Mrs. Caldwell says, then shows everyone her iPad. It’s a satellite image of the state of Florida, except the entire bottom half is splattered in green, yellow, orange, and red.

  Mr. Caldwell’s mouth pops open. “Good Lord—is all that rain?”

  “Yeah,” Tanner says. “Guess that means the charity tournament’s canceled? I’m surprised I haven’t gotten a call by now.…”

  “Why don’t you call the tournament director to see what’s going on. Maybe call some of your buddies playing in it, too,” Mr. Caldwell says. Tanner stands from his barstool.

  “Yeah, good idea,” he says, then heads out onto the deck.

  “I’m surprised they didn’t cancel it ahead of time—remember the tournament he played in Galveston a few years ago? They canceled that a week in advance because of a tropical storm,” Bennett says to her parents.

  “What’s the verdict?” Mr. Caldwell asks when Tanner comes back a few minutes later.

  “Whole tournament’s off,” he says, sitting down again. “The course is underwater.”

  “Sorry about that, bud,” Mr. Caldwell says.

  Tanner shrugs. “I have another one in two weeks before the semester starts, so I should be fine. But that means Teddy still needs a ride to the airport.” He glances at Teddy. “Right?”

  “Oh—well, I mean, yeah,” Teddy stumbles out, not trying put anyone out here. “But don’t worry about it, man. I can call an Uber or something.”

  “You just headed home, Teddy? Or somewhere else?” Mr. Caldwell asks, leaning back and folding his hands behind his head.

  “Heading home. I’m on break from filming until Wednesday.” Teddy tries not to cringe at how douchey that sounds. “I was supposed to go to Miami for the weekend, but my flight got canceled yesterday and my plans fell through.”

  “You get a lot of breaks in your schedule?” Tanner asks. “It’s gotta be pretty nuts.”

  Teddy nods. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty busy this year. But, like—good busy, you know? I have until Tuesday off, and then I have to be back on set in LA by Wednesday morning. Not sure what my schedule will be like after the holidays, but right now it’s pretty slammed.”

  Pretty slammed is putting it lightly, but Teddy doesn’t want to sound like he’s complaining on top of already sounding like a Hollywood douche.

  “You like it out in LA?” Tanner asks, and Teddy isn’t sure how to answer that.

  LA is basically where he grew up. On one hand, he can’t imagine living anywhere else (or doing anything else). On the other hand … it’s always nice to get away from the agents and the sixteen-hour workdays for a while. That’s what Teddy was looking forward to the most about his trip to Miami.

  “LA’s great ninety-five percent of the time,” Teddy admits with a rueful smile. “Definitely not as laid back as this place, though. Getting out for a bit and hanging here has been great,” he says, pointing toward his view of the lake.

  Mr. Caldwell nods and sips his coffee. “Well, if you don’t have anywhere to be until Tuesday, you’re welcome to stay if you want.”

  “St-stay here all weekend?” Teddy startles out.

  Tanner’s first to jump at the idea with, “You definitely should, man!”

  “I think that’s a great idea—but only if you want to, Teddy,” Mrs. Caldwell adds, smiling as she puts down her iPad. “Don’t feel obligated.”

  A bolt of indecision runs down Teddy’s spine. It surprises him that his initial reaction is Hell yeah, I want to stay, and he has to remind himself that he literally met the Caldwells yesterday. Overstaying his welcome would be rude. And weird. And—Teddy’s eyes shift to the windows across the kitchen for the thirty-seventh time—and God, the lake looks so inviting outside.

  “This is crazy nice of you guys to offer,” he starts, trying to come up with a way to stall for time that won’t seem like he’s stalling for time. It’s not that he wants to say no—he just needs a second to process what’s being said.

  And what’s not being said, in Bennett’s case.

  Teddy can’t gauge her reaction, even when she turns to her brother and tells him to stop being so peer pressure-y.

  “Y’all give him a second to breathe before you start bribing him,” she says. She picks up her plate and asks Teddy if he’s done with his, too.

  Teddy nods absently before he realizes what he’s doing. “Wait, no I’ll get that—”

  But Bennett’s already rounding the end of the counter.

  “I’m not peer pressuring,” Tanner says with mock offense, holding up his hands. “I just firmly believe there’s nothing better than a weekend on the lake. And a minute ago Teddy was talking about how nice it is to get out of town sometimes.…”

  And he’s got a point there. Given everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours—his audition, his trip falling through, Chelsea—lying low with the Caldwells on the other side of the country sounds oddly enticing.

  Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell chime in on Bennett’s peer pressure comment, prompting some back-and-forth joking between them and Tanner that lends a little privacy to the other side of the kitchen. Teddy watches Bennett clear their plates to the sink, waiting to see if she’ll show him some kind of indication that this isn’t crazy or weird or awkward. Even if Bennett’s not the biggest fan of him staying, Teddy has every intention of trying to make it up to her this weekend if she does give him the okay.

  “Bennett,” he says quietly. “Are you cool with this?”

  Bennett’s eyes flick to his as she rinses off their plates, and there’s a tiny grin pulling at her lips. She raises her eyebrows and gives what Teddy wants to believe is a Why not? shrug, and maybe that’s all the indication he needs for now.

  “So what do you say, Teddy? You in or out?” Mr. Caldwell calls across the kitchen.

  Teddy laughs. “You guys are, like, the nicest people I’ve ever met. You sure I’m not messing up your plans for the weekend if I stay?”

  He gets a resounding, “Come on, it’ll be fun” from three-fourths of the Caldwells.

  “All right, I’ll stay,” Teddy says as he does a one last sweep of the kitchen, lingering on Bennett. “But only if I get to, like, do the dishes or something for the rest of the weekend so I don’t feel like a total freeloader.”

  That earns him a resounding, “Absolutely not” and a big smile from Bennett.

  Teddy decides to stay anyway.

  * * *

  After breakfast, Teddy gets a text from Rita saying to call her when he can. Bennett suggests he head down to the dock since it’s more private, and there’s apparently better service. Teddy walks to the dock’s edge, taking another second to appreciate
his view for the next three days, then calls Rita. She answers on the second ring.

  “There you are,” she says in lieu of a greeting. “What’s goin’ on, Ted? I heard you had some flight troubles yesterday.”

  “Hey, Rita—” Teddy starts, then feels his eyes go wide. “Whoa—how’d you know about that?”

  “Chelsea called me.”

  “What? When?”

  That’s nowhere near the realm of Usual Chelsea Behavior. Teddy didn’t even know she had his manager’s number.

  “Yesterday. She told me about your plans changing and that she couldn’t get in touch with you,” Rita says, hesitating before adding, “She did not sound thrilled about it.”

  Teddy clenches his jaw. “Yeah, well—”

  “It’s none of my business,” Rita says, more than likely doing that nonchalant hand gesture thing she always does when she just doesn’t want to know. Which is a lot. Bless her. “Where are you? I’m glad you’re not down in Florida with that hurricane right now, at least.”

  “I stayed in Charlotte last night,” he tells her. “I wasn’t trying to catch a red-eye to LA right after flying from there to Charlotte.”

  “I don’t blame you,” she says lightly. “Sorry you got stuck in there overnight, though—I wish you would have called me. Where did you end up staying? Hopefully the hotel wasn’t too shoddy.…”

  “Nah, it’s cool. And funny story, actually—I didn’t end up staying in a hotel.”

  “Oh God,” Rita says. “Please, Teddy, please tell me you didn’t sleep in the airport. My conscience can’t take it.”

  “No, no.” He laughs. “It’s actually pretty crazy, though. I kinda ran into Bennett Caldwell on the flight here last night.”

  There’s a pause, and then Rita asks, “Bennett Caldwell, as in, like … M. B. Caldwell?”

  “As in M. B. Caldwell,” Teddy confirms, feeling a little smug.

  Another pause.

  “You stayed with Bennett Caldwell last night,” Rita says slowly. “The girl who basically wrote the movie you just auditioned for—that Bennett Caldwell.”

  “Yes, Rita, that Bennett Caldwell,” Teddy says, his eyebrows knitting together. He’s not sure what to make of her tone—it’s deceptively calm and not at all on par with the reaction he was expecting. It makes him nervous, and Teddy tends to talk himself in circles when he’s nervous. Which is exactly what he does when explaining the story to Rita.