Off Screen

by Josephine Traynor

  Pressing my lips together to set the nude shade I’d just applied, I tell myself to check my phone one more time for anything from Kit and then I’m going to delete his number. Nothing. I swipe to the left, and the big red bar appears with the question of delete. Without hesitation from me, his number is gone as there’s a knock on my front door.

  Lydia is the definition of gorgeous in her fuchsia halter top and long black pants. She could make a garbage bag stunning. She asks if I’ve heard anything, and I give her a look that says everything.

  “What an idiot. You’re a catch. If I was into girls, you would totally be my pick.”

  Laughing at her somewhat backhanded compliment, I tell her how Kit avoiding my texts only cements that I can’t ignore the obvious anymore. “He’s not into me. I was hoping I deserved better than being ignored.”

  She tells me he’s not a man and a coward. As always, the conversation rounds itself back to Harrison.

  “I think the studio saying something to him has really got him rattled. Before, it was always Harrison can do no wrong. I mean, he came back and actually replaced the spark plugs.” Even though he caused the problem, he’s never been one to come back with the solution.

  “Hmm. So Harrison was the knight in shining armour.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” The expression on her face tells me she’s not buying it. “Damn you, Harrison.” The more I try to push him out of my life, the more he sinks his claws in. Poor Lydia doesn’t get paid enough to listen to my diatribe of how much I hate him. It’s like my complaining about him has become my fulltime job. Pulling my front door shut behind me, I say, “I’m sorry. I’m not going to talk about either Harrison or Kit for the rest of the night. If I do, make sure I buy you a drink.”

  Tonight, I want to go out, have dinner, have a couple of drinks, and do a little dancing before I say goodbye to my life here for a couple of weeks. I’m fed up with the cloud that is those two fogging up my mind.

  Pulling up at the valet, I wait for the door to open. The moment it’s open, I’m blinded by the camera flashes, and my ears are clogged with the sound of my name. The occasional Jordan is called out. I’m happy to stop for fans, not for the magazine trawlers. Everyone thinks they are a reporter these days; images and videos are uploaded in a second. I hate that she’s chosen to bring me here. Afterglow is the one place I get hassled, and not by the patrons. There’s one bouncer named Phil who gives me grief every single time I’m here. He’s the only one who checks my ID at the door. I put in an official complaint, and his boss said that Phil had every right to check my ID and made the not-so-subtle comment that they get to pick and choose their patronage.

  I’m confident that I’m in without a hitch tonight, but out steps Phil from behind the door just as I’m about to pass through it.

  “Ah, got some ID?”

  You have got to be fucking kidding me! Not even bothering to argue, I pull out my ID and give it to him with a smile.

  “Don’t show too much fang there, temptress. People might think you’re coming on to me to get in the door.”

  Bile rises to the back of my throat while I cringe at his words. He’d be quite handsome if he wasn’t such a jerk. “I can assure you there’s no attempt at that.”

  His own smile fades as he hears my words. “What? You think because you’re a big TV star that there’s no chance for a guy like me?”

  Lydia thankfully steps up and moves past me. “The music is so loud, maybe you didn’t hear her properly. I rang before about the VIP section.”

  “VIP section is in use.”

  Dammit. That means I’ll be spending the night getting photos taken rather than talking to Lydia about my next move.

  Lydia turns to me and leans in. “We’ll stay for a drink and then go.”

  “I’m happy to stay for a drink if Phil here lets me in.” No sooner are the words out of my mouth, he steps aside. “Thank you.”

  I swing my hips to the beat as the bright lights flash around the room. It’s dark enough to make out the bodies but not the faces until you’re right in front of the person. Lydia says she needs to go to the toilet, and I tell her I’m heading to the bar.

  I’m almost there, but a tall, well-built figure slows my steps. I sidle up next to him and wait for either conversation to start or order a drink. Dark-blue shirt, dark pants with an arse that fills it deliciously. My lady parts tingle as the strobing lights bounce off his hair, making it hard for me to tell what colour it is, but it’s longish and slicked back. I lower my eyes and take another long, hard look at the two globes stretching the material of his pants, and oh yeah, turn around so I can see the face that I’ll hopefully be attached to later tonight … oh, fuck it. Kill me now. It’s Harrison. The one man I can’t have. How many times must my heart be tormented like this? Why must I be tortured? The one hot arse to catch my attention all the way from the dance floor and it has to belong to … well. This arse! Turning abruptly to get the hell away from him did nothing. Bringing my hand up to cover my face didn’t help either when I hear him call my name. Prior to our meeting with the executives, I would have kept walking away, but I’ve had time to think things over and see how damaging being booted from the show would be to my career.

  I turn to face him, and the smug, sexy bastard is leaning against the bar, staring at me. God damn, he’s a turn-on. I hate how he has this effect on me. While he takes a sip and keeps his rueful gaze on me, I note the women, and some men, standing in his proximity are gazing upon him. Look at him. So used to being eye-fucked, he doesn’t even notice it anymore.

  “Harrison.” I mirror his lean on the bar and turn my attention to finding the bartender.

  The bartender returns with two beers and sets them down in front of me. Grabbing at one, I sip the thin white head.

  “She’s paying,” Harrison says while picking up the second glass.

  Shaking my head, I pull out a note and pass it over.

  “Fancy seeing you here. Who are you with?” he asks.

  Rub it in why don’t you? The one guy who’s shown any real interest doesn’t reply to my messages. “Don’t pretend you’re interested in my life.” I drop my gaze to the red mark on his chest and move into his personal space. Seeing him caught off guard is amusing to me. His hands fly to cover his delicates. He smells like tomato sauce. Pizza sauce, to be more specific. “What happened there? Forget where your mouth is?”

  I take another sip of my beer while he peers down at himself.

  He swears as he reaches over the counter for a napkin. “Watching some girls wrestling and I must have got too close to the action.”

  “Classy,” I mutter and down some more drink to quench the jealousy from spiking.

  Moving to press my back against the bar, I’m scanning for Lydia when I see Kit coming down the stairs from the VIP section. Raising my hand, I wasn’t expecting the look of horror to flash on his face when he laid eyes on me.

  “Shit,” Harrison says.

  I whip my head to him. “Why? Why shit?”

  Harrison silences himself with a long draw on his drink, and Kit slowly makes his way over. “Riley. What are you doing here?”

  “Just out to dinner with a friend who replies to my messages.” I shouldn’t have been a bitch. Situations like this highlight my insecurities, and I only know how to respond with biting back. Standing there, I’m sure I’m appearing as uncomfortable as I feel.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been replying to your messages,” he says while eyeing off Harrison.

  The way this is ending with Kit is awkward, let alone having Harrison amongst the spectators, so I step up and do it for him.

  The bottom of the glass hits the bar harder than I expected as I remove the possibility of objects to become weapons. “It’s all good, Kit. I think your silence said it all.”

  Both Harrison and Kit open their mouths to say my name when a striking blonde steps in front of Harrison.

  “Oh wow. Hello, Harrison,” the woman say
s while stepping between the three of us and breaking the spell.

  She must be his fling. He will make me rerun lines over and over until he’s satisfied, but when it gets to six at night, even if the shot hasn’t been great, he leaves. Didn’t know she had him on a short leash. From the corner of my eye, I can see Harrison trying to move around the woman to watch the train wreck between Kit and me.

  “Riley,” Kit starts, but I don’t give him the chance to say anything more as I set off across the dance floor.

  Where the hell is Lydia?

  Hearing my name being called doesn’t stop me. I feel like a fool. There are the blatant kind of people who want to get to know you to use you, and then there are people with whom you let your guard down. The brutal part is when you realise they are doing exactly what the stranger is doing to you.

  Stepping in closer so I can hear him over the music, Kit says, “This is not how I wanted things to be. You’re an amazing woman.”

  Oh, here we go. The buffer.

  “I’ve been trying to think of ways to say this gently. I just don’t see us heading anywhere. I’m sorry. I feel terrible that I might have led you on,” he says.

  I also feel stupid for allowing myself to get ahead of myself. I didn’t realise I was being so desperate.

  “Riley?”

  Fighting the feeling that there’s something wrong with me and sucking in a deep breath through my nose, I force myself to take the higher moral ground even though it still hurts. Glancing to Harrison, who is still occupied by a woman who looks like all the others here, I find it hard to meet Kit in the eyes. It’s too intimate. The music drowns my words out, and he steps closer again into my space to hear me. “Thanks for finally being honest with me, Kit.”

  The music thumps in time with my heart as it recovers from the sting of being let down again.

  “You and I were never meant to go past the first drink,” he says.

  “What’s that meant to mean?” I ask, but he can’t hear me. He’s moved away from me, giving me a grim glimpse.

  Taking the cue that it’s time for me to get out of here, I turn my back on the men who foolishly tainted my thoughts hours before.

  My name is called again, and fingers curl around my arm. Yanking free, I turn ready to give Kit a mouthful when I’m surprised to see Harrison’s the one reaching out to me.

  “Hey,” he yells over the music while taking a hold of my arm again.

  “Go away, Harrison.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Why is he sorry? Everything around me feels like it’s moving in slow motion. Bodies jumping up and down, mashing together, bumping into me, making the distance between Harrison and me smaller. Staring into his handsome face, I wait for him to continue. His fingers remain on my arm as his bottom lip slowly drops. If we were at work, this is the move he makes just before he kisses me. Oh God. Kiss me. Please kiss me. I’ve spent countless nights and too many days wondering what his kiss would be like. We’ve kissed hundreds of times but never as Harrison and Riley. He’s had to kiss me because we follow the script. Would he kiss the same? I know I wouldn’t. I keep my kisses professional. If I ever got the chance to kiss Harrison like I really wanted to, he would be my end. I wouldn’t want to kiss another man.

  A sharp bump in the ribs by a man attempting to dance makes me wince and break eye contact with Harrison. As soon as his fingers drop, I miss his touch.

  Before I can turn, he leans forward to whisper in my ear. “Just wanted to make sure you were …”

  “What?”

  “Able to find Lydia to leave.”

  He looks over my head and gives me a quick nod. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Lydia standing on the edge of the room, waiting for me. Harrison’s standing so close, all I’d have to do is tilt my head and I’d be able to kiss him. Turning to face him, I’m met with the Harrison who’s a stranger. The only thing Harrison’s giving me is his back as he walks away.

  Pushing against the bodies, I get to Lydia with all my toes intact.

  “The line-up was horrendous,” she says. “Let’s get a drink.”

  “I drank yours. I have to get out of here or I’m going to end up doing something I’m going to regret.”

  She gives me a sympathetic look after pulling me in for a hug. “You’re all right to get home?”

  Waving her off, I hope she has more success in the romance department than I do.

  My phone has not stopped vibrating with alerts of my outing tonight. All that dressing up, primping, pruning, and plucking for eighty-three minutes. I hate makeup. I have to wear so much for work that I revel in the days I don’t have to use it. Using my hip to shut the front door, I step over my gym bag along with the mountain of washing that built up through the week. Picking up my phone as it vibrates again at the mention of my name, I can’t help but open it up. What I see makes my heart break that little bit more. It’s a picture of Harrison with the blonde who’d interrupted my meeting with Kit. He’s splayed out on the chairs in the VIP area. From the angle, it’s clearly a selfie. She’s on his lap, leaning back on his chest, landing a kiss on his cheek while he smirks into the camera. The hastags that accompany the photo is how my name got mentioned. #shecanhavehimonscreen #jordansbyday #notrileysbynight.

  Berating my jealous streak, I drop my phone on my bedside table with an unsavoury name for the woman, change into my yoga pants, and set to sorting the washing waiting by the door. I have thought of a thousand and one ways to approach Harrison, and the way I feel, if the shoe was on the other foot and he came to me saying he had feelings for me, I’d have a hard time believing it.

  If I’m going to be spending the next fortnight with him, I need as many creature comforts as I can take. Once the washing machine is on, I flick the kettle on and pull out my grocery list. I know the set will be catered but I’ll be spending twenty-four hours a day there and I don’t trust the basic food they bring. Making a small list of things that I know I’m going to need, I wonder what Harrison’s favourite food is. I shake my head free of thoughts of Harrison. The therapist’s email is waiting, unopened in my inbox, and that’s where I plan for it to stay. I’m still working through my options of even going when Harrison’s words pop into my head. He was talking about how he was a sure thing for a role in a play that I won the lead of. “No one can play this part better. I’ll kiss the arse of the person who gets this role over me.”

  I’m still waiting for my arse to be kissed. I’m no one to back down, so why am I going to start now?

  I make a few adjustments to the shopping list for while I’m away. I have no idea what the facilities will be like. I camped just about every summer in my childhood so I plan for a few things to be cooked on an open fire. Why, sweet baby Jesus, did they have to put us in a cabin together? I’m hoping it’s more like a lodge with room service and modern contraptions. A nice big bath. What I do know for sure is that we are only allowed to take basic stuff.

  Jumping online, I quickly order my grocery list and set it to be delivered tomorrow. I make a list of things I can take of my own. Coffee machine. I’ve been caught without one before. I throw a load into the dryer then make a list of things to get done tomorrow. Looking at my watch, I see it’s now approaching one a.m.

  Oh well, later today then.

  I haul. myself to bed. Tonight’s the first night I don’t go to sleep thinking about Harrison and me. My thoughts are plagued by him and that other woman.

  I’ve done all my meal prep for a fortnight and as I’m lifting the garbage bag into the bin outside, it dawns on me that I don’t know Harrison’s phone number or where he lives. Lydia doesn’t respond to my phone call, and I’m a little lost on what to do when I hear the familiar rumble outside my garage door. How the hell did he get my address?

  I press the remote, the door opens, and there he is, looking every bit a celebrity. Aviator sunglasses, hair slicked back the same as last night. Waiting for him to get out of the car, I instantly regret it when he does. Tight whi
te T-shirt over faded blue jeans and black biker boots with only some of the laces tied up, all while wearing his trademark smirk. He only takes his glasses off when he’s standing before me.

  “Stalker much? How did you get my address?”

  Narrowing his eyes, he looks around, and having him in my personal space makes me feel uneasy yet comfortable at the same time.

  “From Dominic. You know we’re only going for a fortnight. That is if you can get your lines right the first time.”

  There he is. The arsehole who I cannot bear. “Get your bag and move your car. You’ll bring down the tone of the neighbourhood with that in my driveway.”

  “I was thinking it would give you more street cred. They might think someone actually wants to spend time with you.”

  I don’t even get to reply as he sets off to his car, leaving me in stunned silence. Out of all the digs and nasty things we’ve said to each other, this one hurt more. For some reason, his barbs are managing to make a dent in my armour. I’ve never had anything to say about his private life.

  After moving my way through my apartment, I check the front door is locked—, the only thing left to go in the car is me with my coffee mug. I used my old brewer to make a pot while my newer machine was packed carefully into the backseat. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention as I sense him behind me. Catching his reflection in the window, I put the glass pot down on the bench as I secure the lid tightly on my travel mug.

  “I’d love a cup to go,” he says.

  I snatch the pot off the sink, and the remaining brew flows beautifully down the plughole. Rinsing the pot, I upend it to drain. It’s unsettlingly easy for me to stoop to his level. After his crack about my non-existent love life, I have little intention of being kind. Harrison tsks at my antics while shaking his head and returning to the garage. I don’t utter a word when I get in the car and I don’t plan on talking to him at all.