Love Scene, Take Two

by Alex Evansley

  “That’s not your fault,” she says, dragging a hand over the side of her face and wincing when her fingers hit the bandage above her eyebrow. “I’m sorry I put you in that position in the first place. I should’ve called. Was Burt pissed?”

  Neither Emmy nor Olivia respond, and Bennett takes in both of their expressions.

  “Oh, God. What else?”

  “On the contrary,” Olivia says, looking like she wants to smile but isn’t sure if it’s appropriate. “Burt seemed pretty happy about it. Especially after he saw the pictures of you guys at the restaurant. We shot some scenes this morning, then he let us go and called a meeting with the marketing team.”

  Bennett’s brain is rejecting this information. Surely she’s hearing things.

  “Bennett?” Emmy says. “B, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “Pictures?” Bennett repeats.

  Emmy’s eyes slowly close for a second, and that’s all the confirmation Bennett needs.

  “Yeah…” her assistant says, crossing her arms uncomfortably. “There are pictures of you and Teddy on Twitter at some restaurant?”

  This is not happening.

  And for some reason Olivia looks angry about it.

  “God. I love my fans, but I hate it when people take pictures of celebrities without their knowledge or consent. So inconsiderate,” she says.

  “Someone took pictures of me and Teddy at the restaurant,” Bennett says.

  Emmy nods.

  “And posted them on Twitter.”

  Emmy nods again. “And Instagram.”

  “Is Burt calling a marketing meeting to do damage control?” Bennett asks, because she’s naive and still hopes for the best from people.

  It looks like it hurts when Emmy shakes her head.

  Bennett’s about to cry. She feels violated. And taken advantage of. And freaked the hell out that she had no clue someone was taking pictures last night.

  “So what does that mean, then?” she asks.

  Emmy sighs. “It means Burt’s probably going to try to convince you to use whatever’s going on between you and Teddy as a marketing angle for the movie.”

  “Is that a joke?” Bennett looks at Olivia, who shrugs, and then back to Emmy, who sighs again. “Are you serious?”

  This is when Bennett gets confirmation that she’s having an out-of-body experience or something, because Emmy says, “It might not be as bad as you think,” and Bennett knows her assistant would never say that.

  “How is this not as bad as I think?”

  “Think about it, Bennett,” Olivia says. Bennett almost tells her to stay out of it. “You’ve got the fan base. He’s got the fan base. The movie’s got the hype.… What’s the harm in adding as much fuel to the fire as you can?”

  “How about because it’s not true?” Bennett snaps, eyes burning.

  Olivia looks offensively unconvinced. “You sure about that? Because I’ve definitely noticed some stuff going on between you two since the first table-read. I mean, even if you guys aren’t involved, would it really be such a bad thing to let people think you are?”

  Bennett starts to say something completely unnecessary, catching herself at the last second. There’s no point in lashing out at Olivia over this—it would only prove Bennett’s upset because whatever rumor is floating around on set holds more truth than she’s comfortable with. Which … it does … but definitely not enough for a damn marketing campaign.

  Bennett needs to figure out how to squash this as quickly and as discreetly as possible.

  “Hmm,” she says instead of arguing or freaking out like she wants. She forces her shoulders to relax while she’s at it. “That’ll be an interesting conversation with Burt. I’m gonna go shower. When were y’all thinking about going back to set?”

  “What—um.” Olivia pauses, confusion flickering across her face. “Probably in like half an hour?”

  “Cool. I’ll ride back with you then,” Bennett says, heading for the door.

  She does not acknowledge the pitying look she gets from Emmy on her way out. She does not sink to the floor of the shower and put her head between her knees underneath the spray. And she does not think about the looming shit storm waiting for her on set.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  It’s raining by the time they get to set, and in true North Carolina fashion, the temperature is hovering somewhere in the forties—cold enough to make you miserable, but not cold enough to snow. Bennett has on two jackets under her raincoat, and her Bean Boots are so old they have worn-in holes in the sides that sop up half the puddles she steps in.

  No one says anything on the drive over about the puffy red circles under Bennett’s eyes. Emmy busies herself with what she says is new paperwork from Bennett’s publisher. Olivia live-tweets Wilmington’s shitty weather. And once again, Bennett is left alone with her thoughts, and once again, that has proved to be bad for her mental health. She goes back and forth for so long about who she’s going to talk to first—Burt or Teddy—that the idea of talking to either of them starts to feel abstract.

  Bennett hums into the rain and glances off toward the cast trailers as they cross through the parking lot. Her publisher arranged for her to have a writing trailer to use during downtime on set to finish Off the Grid—Bennett’s only been inside a few times so far (it doesn’t feel right that she has her own trailer) … but right now it’s the only place on set that can give her some space to pull her thoughts together.

  “Emmy, do you have your copy of the key to my trailer?” she asks.

  Emmy tugs on the sides of her hood, then reaches into her raincoat pocket. “You trying to get some writing done this afternoon?” she asks, handing Bennett a key ring. “I can let Burt know for you.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Bennett says quickly. “I’m just gonna stop in there real quick and then find y’all on set.”

  Emmy gives her a questioning look.

  “I’ll catch up with you later,” Bennett says, veering off across the parking lot.

  Bennett just needs another minute or two to get her head on straight and decide how to approach this situation. If she talks to Teddy first, it’ll give them the opportunity to get on the same page before telling Burt this marketing plan isn’t going to happen. But if she talks to Burt first, maybe she can bypass getting Teddy involved altogether.…

  Bennett wonders if Teddy already knows what’s going on, if that’s why he was acting so weird this morning. And if that’s the case, it’s bullshit he didn’t give her a heads-up about it.

  Now Bennett’s leaning toward touching base with Teddy before she talks to Burt. It feels like it might give her some … what exactly? Comfort? Reassurance? Mental stability? Who knows. But hopefully he’ll have her back on this. He’s said before he likes to keep his personal life on the DL.

  The rain upgrades itself from a steady drizzle to a complete downpour by the time Bennett gets to her trailer. Her fingers have stopped cooperating in the chill, so it takes her a second to get it unlocked. The inside is warm and just as sparsely decorated as Bennett had left it. (It reminds her of the inside of an RV a family would take on vacation cross-country.) There are a few stray scripts scattered across the kitchen table. A vase of wilting flowers from her agent sits on the coffee table in front of the green pleather couch and matching armchair.

  Shivering, Bennett shrugs out of her raincoat and the wet jacket underneath, slapping them both down onto the kitchen table. Then she pulls out her phone, and her stomach somersaults when she sees the text from Teddy sent seven minutes ago.

  Bennett frowns. Whoever said text messages can’t portray emotions has clearly never tried to decipher the linguistic implications behind lack of punctuation usage.

  She tosses her phone onto the armchair after tapping send. It hits the surface just as two quick knocks come from outside the trailer door. It swings open a second later, and Bennett very literally almost falls back over the coffee table.

  “Jesus—” She stumbles sidewa
ys and catches herself, splaying her other hand on her chest. When she glances back at the doorway, she doesn’t need any punctuation—or lack thereof—to decipher the emotions written all over Teddy Sharpe’s face. He’s standing soaking wet in the doorway and looking like he’s keeping it together but not for much longer, and Bennett does her best to stay calm.

  “That was quick,” she says.

  He doesn’t say anything.

  So she doesn’t say anything else.

  After a moment, Teddy continues into the trailer, shedding his raincoat along the way. He drapes it onto the back of one of the kitchen chairs and walks right up into her space.

  “Dude—what the hell is going on with you?” Bennett asks, holding up her hands and subtly taking a step back.

  Teddy ignores her. “Do you believe me about the airport last summer?”

  “What?”

  “Do you—” He looks down at her and his face crumples for a second. “Look, I know we still haven’t talked about this yet, but I gotta know right now, before all this shit blows up—is there a chance this is gonna happen again? You and me, for real this time? Even if I haven’t fixed it all the way yet, are you gonna let me try?”

  Bennett doesn’t know what to do. She’s lost feeling in her face.

  And maybe it’s because she’s overwhelmed. Or the intensity behind the look in his eyes. Or that Bennett has always known, deep down, that what she thought happened at the airport back in July wasn’t the full story, regardless of how much it had hurt to watch.… Whatever it is, it has her nodding at him helplessly before she realizes what she’s doing.

  Teddy’s expression goes blank for about a second, and then he’s closing the gap between them and backing Bennett into the trailer’s fake wooden paneling. He braces one hand on the wall by her shoulder, bringing the other up to her neck and pressing his thumb underneath her chin to tilt her head back. Bennett barely has time to think Oh God, this is it—this is how it ends before he crashes their lips together.

  He kisses her hard and steady, with the type of conviction that leaves no room for misinterpretation. It’s assertive and demanding and so terrifyingly honest that, despite knowing how bad the fallout could be, Bennett gives in to him instantly, sliding a hand around the nape of his neck and letting him press her back into the wall of her own trailer.

  This. This is what Bennett’s been so afraid of—the confirmation that no matter what she does, she’s always going to get pulled right back in. Teddy’s got his hands in her hair and his tongue in her mouth and there’s exactly zero space left between them, and Bennett knows she’s never going to recover.

  It’s embarrassing how audibly she sighs when he finds that spot on underneath her jaw that sets her off all the way down to her toes, and it’s even more embarrassing when she feels him smile against her neck like he knows exactly what’s he doing to her. He reaches down and wraps an arm tightly around the arch in her lower back, and Bennett might as well wrap her legs around his waist when he hoists her up, because it’s not like she’s going anywhere now that he officially has her pinned.

  “Jesus,” he mutters, dragging his lips over hers and moving his hands to the back of her thighs to support her. “You scared the absolute shit out of me this morning at the hospital. You know that?”

  “I—what?” Bennett says, a little dazed and clutching the shirt fabric stretched over his collarbone.

  “I woke up to a crash and you on the ground. Don’t ever do that to me again.”

  “Is that why you were acting so weird?” she breathes.

  Teddy kisses her again, slower this time, then pulls back just enough to lean his forehead against hers, away from the bandage above her eyebrow. “You believe me about the airport, right?” he asks instead, just as he finds that spot on her neck again.

  And yeah, Bennett does.

  “That text you sent me explaining it—was it all true?” she asks, trying so hard to concentrate on what she’s saying and not on the way his teeth are grazing over her skin.

  Teddy pulls back again and looks her in the eye, nodding frantically. “Every bit of it. God, I’m so sorry. I had no idea she was coming and I—”

  “Then yes, I believe you,” Bennett cuts him off. She’s terrified of the repercussions that come with second chances, but now that she’s openly acknowledging how much she’s missed him since July, she might as well own up to it face-to-face.

  “I—”

  There’s another knock on the door, then the sound of the pouring rain outside is suddenly louder and the moment Bennett realizes it’s because the trailer door is opening, she forces her feet to the ground and pushes Teddy away so hard he stumbles backward and has to catch himself on one of the kitchen table chairs.

  “Shit—”

  “Hey, Burt.” Bennett panics. She smooths her hair and crosses her arms over her chest as she leans back against the wooden paneling again. She’s aiming for nonchalance, but she knows she’s flushed and her lips are swollen and she might as well be screaming that she and Teddy were just making out against the trailer wall. Thankfully Teddy’s far enough away now that it at least eliminates some level of suspicion, even if Bennett had to shove him.

  Burt’s head whips up like he’d been expecting her trailer to be empty.

  “Hey, Bennett,” he says. His gaze shifts and he grins. “And Teddy. Exactly the two people I was looking to catch before I left.” He takes his raincoat off and shakes out his umbrella as he wades deeper into the trailer. “I apologize—I didn’t think you’d be in here. I came to get those extra scripts from the production meeting the other day.”

  “Oh. They’re right there,” Bennett says, pointing at the kitchen table. She isn’t sure what to do now, but she’s positive she’s being awkward about it.

  “You’re heading out for the day, Burt?” Teddy asks. He’s sitting in the kitchen chair Bennett practically shoved him into, looking casual as ever and not like he had Bennett’s legs wrapped around his waist ten seconds ago. Bennett blushes hard just thinking about it.

  “We can’t get any more filming done because of the rain. I sent everyone home early,” Burt says, then looks directly at Bennett. “Sit down, will ya? I want to talk with both of you.”

  Bennett pushes away from the wall and chooses to sit on the couch instead of at the kitchen table with Teddy. Burt eyes the space between them before sitting down in the armchair in the corner.

  “Sorry about the rain, man,” Teddy says after an awkward pause.

  Bennett almost laughs at him.

  “All good. And I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, Bennett, though that spot on your forehead looks like it hurts,” Burt says. “Good thing Teddy was there to make sure you were taken care of.”

  Jesus—is he serious with that wording?

  “Yeah,” Bennett says dryly. “Samesies.”

  “Teddy filled me in on some of the details—you should really carry an EpiPen if you’re that allergic to something.”

  “Agreed,” she says, and what she means is, she could really do without the condescending lecture here.

  Burt shifts in his seat, eyes still darting between her and Teddy. “Well, I’ll get right to it, then. I’m sure you know by now some pictures of you two popped up on the Internet last night.”

  No one says anything.

  “Teddy and I had a nice little conversation about it this morning,” Burt says, propping his elbows up on the armrests and steepling his fingers. “We were brainstorming the possibilities of some friendly midproduction marketing for the two of you.”

  Bennett blinks. Teddy’s already talked to Burt about this?

  “So what does that have to do with the pictures?” she asks, lobbing it up there for him to take. The idea of this conversation is already weird enough—and the faster Burt gets on with it, the faster Bennett can tell him no. She needs to save her energy for calling Teddy out for not giving her a heads-up beforehand.

  “He wants us to keep spending time t
ogether,” Teddy cuts in, and there’s a bitterness in his tone that makes Bennett tense. “And if we happen to be seen together, then we should milk the hell out of it.”

  Burt grins and holds up his hands. “I never said ‘milk the hell out of it.’ I said you should let people think what they want. Get ’em talking about it. The added hype—especially with your fan base, Bennett—would be huge.”

  “Especially with my fan base?” Bennett growls.

  “Exactly—think about it,” Burt says. “You write YA fiction. Teddy stars in a TV show aimed at relatively the same age group. There’s a good chance that your fan bases overlap already. Even Teddy agreed that if there were a few whispers going around about the two of you possibly dating, it’d be like the clash of the fandoms. Uniting fans like this is exactly what we want to be doing during production for movie hype. It’ll sell itself.”

  Even Teddy agreed.

  As if he can read her mind, Teddy immediately jumps in to defend himself. “I only agreed that getting as much hype as possible during production is one of the best things we can do right now,” he says. Bennett refuses to look at him. “Bennett, think about that article I sent you—people are already talking. Imagine if we could somehow, like, amplify that to the point of people counting down the days until the first teaser trailer comes out? Think about how much that would reflect in ticket sales.”

  “New York Times–best-selling author of Parachutes steps out with lead actor of upcoming movie adaptation after long day of filming,” Burt says wistfully, sweeping a hand out in front of him like he can already see the headline. “Get it out all over the Internet on fan sites, Twitter, Tumblr—especially Tumblr. You name it. Fans will take this shit and run with it, then they’ll get online and research the movie that brought you guys together.”

  Bennett has a million unnecessary comments streaming through her head, but she can’t get herself to say any of them yet.

  “You’re being quiet,” Burt says when she doesn’t chime in. “Why are you being quiet?”