by H. L. Logan
“Yes. And you’re trespassing.”
“I’m not trespassing if you invited me in.” I stood and turned to her.
“Are you crazy?” She backed away from me. “I never invited you in.”
“Because I’ve been so rudely talking and haven’t given you the chance.” I pushed in past her and she seemed to jump out of my way like she was afraid of accidentally touching me.
As we went through the scene, I sensed something strange. There’s a chemistry when two people act together, and ours was off. Even though Amelia’s character was supposed to be angry in this scene, I felt something real underneath it. Something burning to come out of her. Was she mad at me for standing her up last night?
I tried to pull myself back into the scene. This was exactly why co-stars didn’t date. We couldn’t allow ourselves this kind of distraction. I closed off all my emotions towards Amelia as we redid the scene. Again. And again. The shoot was the longest of the day and by time we were finished, I was exhausted.
The filming wasn’t fun like rehearsals had been. The magic between me and Amelia had fizzled out. By the time we finished, I was sure she was mad at me. She didn’t say anything as she walked off the set.
The producer was watching the shots back on one of the cameras, a slight frown on his face. I was ruining this movie, I knew it. I couldn’t afford to mess up something so important.
I ran after Amelia. I wasn’t sure what I’d done, but I had to make it right.
I called after her as I watched her walking to her bus stop. I could tell by the way her shoulders tensed that she’d heard me, but she didn’t turn.
“Amelia!” I called out again.
She finally turned to me with a fiery glow in her eyes. “What do you want?”
I stopped in my tracks. “I, umm, just wanted to say I’m sorry for canceling on you last night.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be.” She turned again. “You had more important things to do.”
She kept walking, but I caught up with her at the bus stop. “No, I upset you, so I should be sorry, and I am.”
The look on Amelia’s face was killing me. I hated disappointing people.
“Look, that’s not why I’m upset, so just drop it.” She sat down heavily on the bench next to the bus stop.
“So you are upset.” I sat down next to her. “You don’t have to keep it to yourself. If I screwed up, you can tell me.”
She looked at me as if weighing something in her mind. Finally, she said, “I saw you were out with Oliver last night.”
“Sorry, I guess I should have told you why I had to cancel.” Was that the only reason she was angry? Something felt off.
She kicked at a candy wrapper someone had left on the ground. “How long have you two been back together?”
“Oh. Umm…” I didn’t really know how to answer that question. Oliver and I hadn’t gone over our story, and to be honest, I didn’t really feel comfortable telling Amelia we were together when that technically wasn’t true.
“Let me rephrase that.” Her lips pressed together. “Were you dating Oliver when you and I fooled around the other night?”
“What?” Gears slowly clicked into place. Amelia couldn’t be suggesting what I thought she was, could she?
“I don’t like cheaters.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Remember that breakup I told you about? My boyfriend cheated on me. Worst part was that he acted like nothing was going on for months. Even talked about moving in together before he finally left me for one of the other girls he was seeing. So, to reiterate: I don’t like cheaters.”
“Amelia, it’s not like that at all. What you and I did was just—well, it was just practice.”
That seemed to hurt her even more. Her brows closed in and she looked away from me. “So the two of you were together?” Her jaw clenched. “I hate that you involved me in something like that.”
“No!” I wanted to grab her. “That wasn’t what I was trying to say. Oliver and I weren’t together when you and I, umm, rehearsed privately.”
That was as close as I could come to telling the truth. This secret belonged to Oliver as much as it did me and I didn’t have a right to tell anyone without his permission. Besides, even if I trusted Amelia, I didn’t want her to be responsible for keeping this quiet. Her eyes scanned my face like she was deciding if she could believe me. I couldn’t take it. I grabbed her in my arms and pulled her tight to my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I said into her ear. “I’m sorry I had to cancel last night. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going out with Oliver, and I’m sorry for anything else I did to upset you.”
I felt her body relax into mine, her head resting against my shoulder. I just wanted to keep holding her like that. Which was why I had to let go. I slid away from her on the bench, the tiny space between our thighs feeling like a canyon.
“Sorry I lost it on you.” Amelia wiped her nose on the back of her hand and I realized there were tears in her eyes. “I know I have a temper.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I put my hand to her back before moving it quickly.
The rumble of the bus loomed up the street and Amelia stood, fishing out some change from her pocket.
“Let me give you a ride home.”
“It’s fine.” She smiled at me, but her eyes seemed sad. “I’ll see you later.”
“Later.” I gave a half wave and watched her board the bus.
I wanted to grab her back, stuff her in my car and cuddle her to pieces. But I knew I couldn’t do that. Aside from the fact that we worked together, I’d already built a foundation of dishonesty that was no place to start a relationship. I sighed. I guess I’d settle for cuddling Cleo to pieces when I got home.
13.
Amelia
I’d been so stupid for lashing out at Jess. Of course she would never cheat on Oliver. Jessica would never hurt anyone. Not intentionally, at least. I looked at my sad reflection in the mirror as I dressed.
Jessica’s only flaw was that she was flawless. Of course everyone would want to be with her. But not everyone could, and obviously she would pick Oliver over me. She was open-minded enough to fool around with me, but that didn’t mean she’d actually consider dating a woman. Especially a woman like me. I mean, what did I have to offer her? I wasn’t a big star. I was broke and bad-tempered, and Jessica could do a lot better than that.
The next two weeks of filming went fine. I guess. The director and producer seemed happy, and it all went smoothly. Jessica and I didn’t have anymore private rehearsals, but I couldn’t say I didn’t look forward to our scenes together. Sure, she was dating Oliver, but that didn’t make it wrong that I got a thrill out of holding her hand or having her whisper in my ear, did it? Besides, it was all just pretend.
We still hadn’t filmed the shower scene. The one Jessica and I had ‘practiced’ in my apartment. The one that hadn’t felt like practice at all. It’d felt real. But it was so hard to tell what was real and what was fake with Jessica.
Truthfully, it all felt real. Every kiss and every word she spoke in the script felt like she was putting genuine feeling into it. It was driving me out of my mind. How was she that good at acting? No wonder she’d landed so many roles. Forget the audience—she could even convince me she was in love with me.
Today’s filming had been extra hard. We’d gone on location to film a pool scene. It was supposed to be the first time we kissed on screen and Jessica’s character was taunting mine with her usual sexual innuendo. There was the tense locker room scene where we stole glances at each other. Then, as I came out of the water, she grabbed me in a kiss that was so passionate, it was impossible to tell myself that none of this was real.
I couldn’t stand it! Couldn’t stand having Jessica for a few hours, then going home alone to my dank, dark hole. I tried to remind myself that with the small paychecks coming in, I could at least afford to feed myself a little better and the stress of being behind on bills had stopped choking me
so much.
I should’ve been happy.
And I was.
For the few hours a day I was with Jess.
But all the other hours? Those ones, I just missed her. Because not only had Jessica and I stopped ‘practicing’ together, we’d stopped hanging out at all. I guess she was busy with Oliver. There were new photos of them almost every night. They were always smiling and laughing and looking at them fucking killed me.
I needed to find that for myself, I thought as I walked home alone after filming. This crush I was developing on Jessica wasn’t good for me. It was completely messing with my head, and even though I was in heaven for the moments I was with her, it then became miserable to know that it was all fake. Like waking up from the same beautiful dream to come back to my shitty life. And then doing it the next day, and the next.
It was Friday and I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was collapse at home but I decided that I had to go out. I had to go somewhere and meet people who I could form real relationships with. I couldn’t curl up with a Madeline Steven’s book every time I felt depressed. That wouldn’t solve anything.
Instead of cuddling up with my own misery, I headed out purposefully to a night of clubbing. I had one thing on my side: my determination. I was completely dedicated to getting over this Jessica thing. I wanted my thoughts back—the ones that didn’t revolve around her. If I was going to become obsessed with someone, it might as well be someone I could actually have.
***
The line to get into the club seemed to stretch forever in front of me, making me wish I’d used the bathroom before I’d left the house. I’d chosen the most exclusive club on the strip, either as an example of my determination, or because I secretly wanted this to fail.
Another group of people walked past me after being turned away by the bouncer. Why had I thought this would be a good idea? Standing there doing nothing only gave me more time to think about… that girl I wasn’t supposed to think about.
I’d texted a couple of my friends, but I didn’t hold out hope that they would respond. Or they’d say they would come out, but it would be a lie. People could be so phony. Yet another thing I loved about Jess. She wore it all out there for everyone to see.
I bit the inside of my cheek as I caught myself going there again. I would not think about Jessica, or about how sweet she was, or about how happy she made me with her ditsy smile. Nope, wasn’t going to think about it.
When I finally reached the front of the line, I gave the bouncer my I.D.
“Amelia Earhart?” He looked up at me. “Like the pilot?”
“I guess so.” I tried not to look annoyed. That joke had gotten old by the time I was ten.
“Oh!” His face lit up with recognition. “You’re the girl from that gay movie.”
“Uhh, yup. You’ve heard of it?” Would that be how people remembered me from now on? As the girl from that gay movie?
“Yeah, looking forward to seeing it.” He held out a meaty fist, which I awkwardly fist bumped, noticing the tattoo across his knuckles that read: FK H8.
The bouncer passed my ID back to me and stepped aside for me to enter. Damn. That kind of thing never happened to me. Who would have thought being the girl from that gay movie would come with such perks?
For all it’s exclusivity, the club was exactly like every other club I’d ever been in. Too loud. Too crowded—hell, I needed a drink. But first I needed a bathroom.
I scanned the crowd as I fought my way to the restrooms. I was keeping my eye out for a guy I might find attractive, but maybe I should’ve been looking for a woman?
I still hadn’t quite figured that part of my sexuality out, to be honest. I knew I liked Jess. A lot. But was it just her personality that attracted me to her or could I really be interested in women for their bodies? I’d have to keep an open mind, I guess.
I found the bathroom, made quick use of it, and came out with a new determination. I ordered a vodka and cranberry at the bar and looked out at the room of writhing bodies, seeing a world of possibilities. Any one of these people could be my soulmate. All I had to do was approach them.
Just as I took a bold step forward, I spotted the last person on earth who I wanted to see. No, not Jess—my ex—the guy who cheated on me. The guy who currently had his arms around two different women. I couldn’t believe I ever actually dated Chad. How had I not realized what a loser he was?
Just seeing him made my stomach sour, and I suddenly wanted to go home, but his eyes met mine and he made a beeline for me. Fuck. What the hell was he doing approaching me after he cheated on me for months and dumped me like a sack of trash?
“Amelia!” He said, sauntering up to me. “It’s so awesome to see you here—hey, I heard you’re finally starring in a movie.”
My eyes narrowed. Was that why he was talking to me? Because I’d finally gotten a role in a well known film?
“I came here with friends, so I should get going,” I said curtly.
“Wait.” He grabbed me by the wrist as I moved to squeeze through the crowd. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how things ended between us. What I did was wrong and you didn’t deserve that.”
“Oh.” I paused. “Well, thanks… that actually means a lot.” I hadn’t even realized what a hit my self-worth had taken, but hearing Chad acknowledge that he’d treated me wrong felt like I was getting a piece of myself back that had been lost for a long time.
“I was thinking.” He moved a little closer to me. “Things were really good when we were together.” He brushed a hair from my face. “Maybe we could give it another shot.”
“Excuse me?” My blood turned hot and I barely resisted the urge to shove him hard. “Accepting your apology does not mean I’ll take you back. Ever. I would rather die alone than go back to someone who treated me the way you did.”
“Geeze, I didn’t realize your ‘fame’ had gone to your head already.” He rolled his eyes. “You sound so full of yourself.”
“Full of myself?” I took a step toward him, voice raising. “You mean because I’m showing some self-respect?”
“And there’s that temper again,” he chided.
I gripped my cup in my hand, unable to hold back the rage seething under my skin. He’d always been like this when we were together, treated me like garbage, then told me I was being childish when I got angry.
“You wanna see my temper?” I didn’t give him time to answer before thrusting my arm forward, throwing my drink in his face.
He gaped down at the red stain spreading over his white shirt. I turned, not wanting to give him a chance to say anything else, but his voice rang in my ears as I retreated.
“You’re gonna make some lucky guy really fucking miserable some day— that is if you don’t end up alone for the rest of your life.”
I bolting through the crowd as if I could run away from his words. Why did I still let him hurt me so much? He was an arrogant cheating loser. I didn’t have to listen to a word he said. And yet…
My chest felt tight as I squeezed through the room, searching for the exit, but finding it hard to see through the tears building in my eyes. I finally found a back exit and stumbled out into a dark alley.
It wasn’t just Chad’s words that had left me shaken. I was exhausted. Tired to the bone of searching for love and getting hurt over and over. Maybe he was right. Maybe I would never find anyone to share my life with. I slumped against the wall. First I’d given my heart to someone who lied to my face and left me struggling to trust anyone ever again, now I was falling for a make-believe romance. Was it too much to ask for something real?
When I heard the doorknob fumble behind me, I dove behind a dumpster, pressing myself flat to the wall. Jesus, I didn’t want anyone to see me out here sobbing my face off. I wasn’t nearly drunk enough to be the girl crying outside a bar.
The door opened and slammed shut. Then I heard a man’s voice. One that I recognized.
“You’re so bad.” He laughed. Where had
I heard that laugh?
“Just one kiss.” A woman’s voice. “No one’s around to see.”
“Stop it.” He laughed again. “I don’t want the headlines to say that I’m a cheater.”
Suddenly it hit me who was speaking: Oliver Colt. Jessica’s boyfriend. But the girl’s voice definitely wasn’t Jessica’s. My heart started racing again. I crept forward to get a better look.
“Fine.” He was leaning into her, their bodies pressed together, the distance between them growing smaller. I wanted to jump out and throttle him. But instead I took out my phone, snapping a photo just as their lips met. I had plenty of time to take more, because the kiss went on forever. Finally, I couldn’t look anymore.
I snuck back into the shadow of the dumpster and curled my knees up to my chin. Why did this hurt so bad? I thought of Jessica’s face when she found out Oliver had betrayed her. Would I tell her? How could I not?
His annoying voice rang in my head, ‘I don’t want the headlines to say that I’m a cheater.’
I scrolled through the photos I’d taken, jaw clenched. Cheater was the kindest thing anyone would be calling him. First he dumped Jessica, then he took her back but cheated on her. What kind of sociopath acted like that? He’d hurt Jessica twice and that was two times too many. That bastard was going to pay. How many movie deals would Oliver get when all his fans knew what a horrible person he was?
The door to the club opened and closed again. I sat silent for a moment until I was sure I was alone, then I slipped out of my hiding spot.
As I waited for the bus back to my house, I searched on my phone for how to submit photos to tabloids and found out that there were actually agents who would broker deals with magazines. Given the exclusivity of the photos, I could be looking at getting paid a couple grand.
I practically salivated at the thought of all that money. I could buy a new car, wouldn’t have to take the bus everywhere. I’d probably have enough leftover to pay off some debts too. The amount of relief that thought brought me was amazing. I clicked on one of the submission forms. Not only would I get to ruin Oliver, I’d be getting paid.