I hear voices coming from a few yards down, so I make my way down. As I get nearer, I hear an unfamiliar male voice, then a response from the familiar tone of Rory’s.
They must still be running auditions, and for a moment I wonder if I should hang in the hall until they’re done, rather than disrupting, but then I see the door swing open and someone else walk out, an intern who looks vaguely familiar. I catch the door as she exits and duck inside, and I’m pleased to see that no one seems to notice, focused entirely on the front of the room.
“Ok,” the casting director, Francesca, leans forward, “That was excellent. Can I have you guys run the scene on page 164, please? Starting with your line, Aurora.”
I look over and see Rory nod, picking her script up off a chair and flipping through. She’s facing me, and from where I’m standing all I can see of her potential castmate is the back of him. Her eyes quickly scan the page in front of her and she nods, then sets the script aside, and I feel a little burst of pride. She really does work damn hard, and it shows. No question in her eyes, she’s confident that she knows every word on that page.
Attagirl.
And when she starts to speak, she’s not Rory anymore. Her whole demeanor gives way to the character, as easily as someone else slips on a shirt. I can’t help but watch in pure awe. And the guy she’s reading with is damn good, too. I can’t see his face, but even without that, I can feel the emotion he’s putting into every word.
And I can’t help but notice whoever this guy is has a damn nice ass.
Enough to make my cock twitch in my jeans.
And that freaks me out more than anything else. I mean, random boners happen, whatever, it’s something you get used to, but this isn’t just out of nowhere.
I’m genuinely getting hard looking at another man’s ass. But after a few minutes, I convince myself that it’s just Rory’s presence, having that effect on me. That’s all it is.
When the scene calls for it, he reaches out and touches her face, and she gazes up at him adoringly. That expression on her face stirs a weird feeling in my chest, and I remind myself that she looks like Rory, she sounds like Rory, but right now, that face, those feelings, don’t belong to her, they belong to the character. Fortunately, it’s enough of a distraction to take my mind off of the weird arousal.
“Absolute perfection,” Francesca murmurs, then loudly exclaims: “I think that’s enough, thank you!”
She turns to her team, writers, producers, the whole bevy of crew. “I think we’re all in agreement, yes?”
Everyone around her nods approvingly, and her face breaks into a broad grin. “Marvelous! Mr. Bauer, it’s unanimous! You are meant to be our Christopher!”
Mr. Bauer? No fucking way. There’s no fucking way it’s-
But when he turns, the jolt in my gut is undeniable.
Pretty Boy Phillip Bauer is Rory’s new costar.
Chapter Five
Rory
When I saw Griffin show up on set with that stupid energy drink, it felt just like a thousand times before, a peace offering, the first step to back to normal for us.
I wanted to apologize to him, too, but I’d just been too chickenshit to take the first step. I felt awful for the shit I’d said to him in the hotel that night and I was so ashamed of myself I’d barely been able to muster up the courage to say more than a few words to him.
But the look on his face when I approach isn’t exactly the amicable one I was hoping for. Instead, he’s glaring daggers. But not at me, when I follow his gaze, the steely glint seems to be directed purely at Phillip, for some reason. I want to roll my eyes, but I resist the urge. “I see the recast went well,” he mutters.
“Yeah,” I reply, trying to keep my tone even and not pick another fight, “It did. Phillip’s amazing, did you see him read?”
“I saw part of it,” he grits out.
I can tell he’s trying to be civil, too, and my annoyance wanes. Even if I can’t figure out what his problem is, at least he’s trying, right?
“I assume that’s for me?” I ask, pointing at the can, “Considering you refer to this stuff as ‘sweeter than hummingbird piss’.”
He nods and hands it over, his face softening a little and his lips quirking into a small smile at my pathetic attempt to mimic his deep baritone voice. “It is. They literally drink nothing but sugar water and even they’d probably pass this nasty shit up for being too much.”
I make a point to crack the top of the can as loudly and obnoxiously as possible in his direction before taking a swig and his smile broadens as he rolls his eyes. The tension between us might not be gone, but I think forgiveness is on the horizon.
“Let me just go grab my bag and then we can go,” I tell him, “Obviously if they’ve found our guy, they don’t need me for any more readings.”
He nods and I retreat to the other side of the room to retrieve my purse. “I’m out of here, places to be and people to see and whatnot,” I call to the crew.
“Thanks, Rory, we’ll see you bright and early on Monday!”
When I turn to head back toward Griffin, however, I nearly run headlong into Phillip. “Whoa, where’s the fire?”
“Sorry,” I look up and I can’t help but feel a little breathless.
Phillip is dangerously attractive, with these warm amber eyes that make you feel like you’re melting, set in a face that looks almost too perfect to be real. “I’ve got a, uh, meeting, I’ve got to get to,” I tell him.
Why am I stammering? I’m not some shy, shrinking violet, terrified of the opposite sex. I’ve been on my fair share of dates, had a handful of relationships.
Although none of them were anything like this. I’d never felt this kind of pull towards any of my exes. Hell, the only person I was ever attracted to like this was-
My eyes dart to Griffin across the room. Clearly, I have a type. Looking at them both, I see similarly muscled frames, dark hair, and while their eyes are totally different colors, they both have this piercing quality to them that makes me feel like they can just open a little window and peer inside my head.
But chemistry doesn’t mean anything, and I tell myself that just like with Griffin, I’ve got to stay professional. We’re working together now, so I’ve got to keep my shit together.
Apparently my type also includes “off limits.”
He lifts an eyebrow and his expression is amused. “Well, good luck at your…meeting, then. It was good to see you again, I’m glad we’ll be working together.”
“M-me too. I’ll see you Monday,” I stutter, internally cringing at how awkward I sound.
When I’d talked to him at Lumi’s party, at least I’d had the cushion of a little liquid courage to keep me from stammering like an idiot, I guess, but facing him sober, I feel like I’m making a total ass of myself. So with a blurted “Bye!” I rush off in Griffin’s direction.
He’s still giving Phillip the evil eye. I wonder if Phillip notices my crazy-ass manager constantly looking at him like he’s the devil incarnate. A glance over my shoulder reveals that he definitely sees Griffin staring at him, but rather than glaring back in some kind of testosterone-fueled pissing contest, he’s eyeing the other man with an expression of mild interest that confuses me.
It reminded me of that weird moment in the hotel when he’d first spotted Griffin. It was weird, while Griff’s hackles were immediately up, Phillip had remained cool and calm, and he’d given Griffin this kind of weird, lingering look, almost like he was…checking him out.
But that’s not possible, right? Although it occurs to me, I really don’t know anything about Phillip. It had definitely seemed to be like he was flirting, but maybe I’m all wrong and he plays for the other team. I run over our interactions in my mind, and I remember how he’d looked at me when our hands brushed on that drink tray.
Rather than clearing it up, though, thinking about it only confused me more. He’d given me a similar up-and-down pass, staring intently, and the smile on hi
s lips had told me he liked what he saw.
But the way he eyes Griff…I just don’t know.
And it suddenly dawns on me, that I really don’t know how Griffin swings, actually. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never really dated anyone that I know of. But then again, he keeps a lot of his personal life pretty close to the chest.
But we’re friends, right? Surely I’d know if he was dating someone. And surely I’d know if he was into guys, wouldn’t I?
“Rory?”
His voice snaps me out of the hurricane of thoughts and I turn back to him. “Come on,” he tells me, tilting his head toward the door, “We’ve gotta get going.”
Once were out in the car, I see he’s also brought me a tube of mini M&M’s and I feel a twinge in my chest. And it makes me wonder how he is single.
No matter how often we fight, I can’t deny that Griffin is genuinely one of the most thoughtful people I know. Despite what I may have told him to the contrary, I do know he cares about me.
He’s been there for me in a way no one else in my life has. I mean, I’m sure Lumi would do more if she could, but with hundreds of miles between us, it’s hard.
But Griffin is always by my side. It’s one of the reasons it’s so fucking hard for me to get over this idiot crush I have on him. It would be one thing if he were just attractive or just a good guy, but the combination makes me wonder how the hell some lucky girl (or guy) hasn’t snatched him right up.
Even thinking about it raises my hackles, though, and I immediately hate the imaginary bitch in this scenario.
I slide into the passenger seat next to him. “Hey, Griffin, about this weekend, I-“
He holds up a hand. “I’m sorry, Ror.”
I blink, surprised.
“You were right. I don’t have any right to police your personal life. And if I really expect you to be able to grow up, I’ve got to stop treating you like you’re a kid who needs babysitting. Because you’re fucking right, Rory, you’re not a little kid anymore, you’re a really incredible young woman, and I’m sorry it’s taken me too long to see that.”
My throat swells and I feel tears sting my eyes. “Thanks, Griff. But look, I’m sorry, too. I was acting like a spoiled brat. I can’t expect you to treat me like an adult if I’m gonna keep throwing temper tantrums at the drop of a hat.”
He lets out a sigh, a sound of relief, and offers me a hand. I reach out and squeeze his hand with mine, feeling my lips tug upwards into a smile.
It’s not perfect, but it’s peace, and it feels like a step in the right direction.
Chapter Six
Rory
Three Weeks Later
When I arrive at the studio for our first official day of filming, I’m already on my third energy drink for the morning. Despite my best efforts to get some sleep last night, I’d still been lying awake well after 4 AM.
My mind was a whirlwind. I kept thinking about Griffin and Phillip, and the more I thought about them, the more I tried to shove them out of my head. And failed miserably.
And what little sleep I did finally get? I can’t even keep them out of my fucking dreams.
The last few weeks have been kind of a blur, honestly. I’ve seen Phillip a handful of times, and each time has been a fresh reminder of exactly what I can’t have.
What’s worse, though, is that even as my stupid crush on him grows more intense, my crush on Griffin is getting worse, too. I was hoping that maybe at least if I had to deal with another unrequited mess, at least it would help be get over the last one.
But I’ve never been less “over” him.
I drain the last dregs of the can and toss it in a recycling bin, feeling the crackle and spark of the sugar and caffeine surging through me and making me feel alive again.
Although the butterflies in my stomach are doing a fair job of keeping me awake now, as well. I’m nervous and excited about working with Phillip again today. That audition had been incredible. The only costar I’d ever had such easy chemistry with was Lumi.
It was how she and I had met, playing sisters on a teen drama. And as far as I was concerned, she was the closest thing to a sister I would ever actually have.
Thinking of her brightens my mood a little, however. I have a meeting in LA I have to fly back for this weekend, and by some ungodly miracle, Lumi actually has an afternoon off, so we’re planning to get in some much-needed girl time.
I’ve told Lumi a little about my crush on Griffin, but I’ve never told her just how deep it goes. And we’d talked a little about Phillip the day after her party, when we’d spent the day bumming around in her little silver car. But we’d gotten sidetracked talking about her first kiss, and while we’ve texted back and forth every day since then, somehow I can’t bring myself to text her about this.
She’s probably going to think I’m crazy and tell me that I should just push them both out of my head, and I can’t bring myself to face the words in cold text.
I catch myself gnawing on the nail of my index finger, chewing it down to a nub, and shove it forcibly into my pocket. “Morning,” a familiar voice greets me from the entrance.
I turn to look and my heart beats a little faster. “Morning, Phillip.”
Those butterflies in my gut take flight all over again, a fluttering storm inside me. I was the first one here this morning, and now I was alone with my costar.
My mind flashes back to a particularly filthy moment in one of those dreams I’d been plagued with, and seeing him face to face again made me realize that my imagination couldn’t do justice to the real thing.
“So, I have to ask, what made you decide to try out for this part?” I blurt out.
“You made it sound interesting, when we talked,” he replies with a shrug.
“Oh,” I hope I manage to keep the disappointment from my voice.
It’s stupid, but some little part of me was hoping he’d tell me he had wanted…well, I don’t know what, exactly. To spend more time with me, I guess.
Professional, stupid, be professional. You have to work with him for months, don’t do something stupid. I remind myself.
“And if I’m being completely honest, after we talked, I looked into you. Saw some of your movies, and I was pretty impressed. I wanted to work with you.”
“Aren’t you in the middle of your album, though?” I asked, “How are you going to do that from here? Isn’t your label and stuff back in California?”
“Well, it’s a bit of a commute from Toronto to LA,” he laughs, “But most of the recording is done, so I don’t physically have to be there for much of the rest of it. When they need me, though, I can bounce down on weekends or something.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Seems like kind of a lot of effort to put in for a role that ‘sounded interesting’,” I remark.
“What can I say? When something catches my interest…” he eyes me up and down with a little smirk, “I go after it.”
My face heats up and I swallow, hard. I wonder if he’s still talking about the role, and I’m tempted to ask, but I stop myself.
There are a dozen reasons why I should stay away from Phillip Bauer, at least for the time being. And I can’t think of one good reason not to, other than pure physical pull.
Mercifully, however, the rest of the crew starts to trickle in, and the moment of tension is broken.
Everyone streams in, and I try and snap into a “work mode” mentality, dropping all thoughts of Griffin and Phillip and the stupid tug-of-war going on in my brain.
It only sort of half works, but it’s enough.
At least until we’re reading again, this time a love scene.
I’m in the zone, I’m focused, I’m losing myself in the character…until Phillip looks at me and my heart starts pounding.
“Cut! Let’s try that one more time, Rory, you stuttered again,” the director instructs, cutting me off.
“Sorry,” I sigh, flustered, shaking out my hands and arms and stretching my neck to either si
de, trying to relax, loosen up, chase the butterflies away.
I deliver the line again, without the flub, and the scene continues smoothly, to my delight. I let go of my worries, my concerns, and finally, I feel it click. That magic moment where I can mentally step aside and let the character take over.
“Christopher, I-“
“April, we might not have a lot of time,” Phillip interrupts, pressing a finger to my lips, “And if I don’t make it out of this, I need you to-“
“No,” I shake my head, feeling April’s emotion’s tighten my throat and her tears sting my eyes, “No, Chris, I can’t-“
The words are halted by the crush of lips against mine, and all of the breath leaves my lungs in a single whoosh. I see sparks, stars, fireworks, my whole body tingles and lights up.
It’s just the scene, it’s just the scene, calm down, it’s just the scene, I tell myself, my heart racing, but my body has a mind of its own, responding to his kiss eagerly.
I don’t know how long my lips are glued to his, but we’re finally interrupted by a clearing throat. “Aaaand cut! Great job, guys, but let’s trim that down just a little,” I hear the director instruct.
It snaps me back to reality and I pull back, but I can’t tear my gaze away from Phillip. He’s breathing as heavily as I am, but I can’t tell if the look in his eyes belongs to him or to his character.
“That was some steamy stuff, guys, great job, you put that on the screen and you’re gonna win an Oscar,” one of the producers adds.
“Can we take five?” I ask, “I just need to run to the restroom.”
Everyone nods and we all break. I rush to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Frustration rises inside me, muddled with arousal and confusion and guilt. I desperately want to splash some cold water on my face, but out of respect for the painstaking work my makeup artist had done, I opt instead to soak a paper towel and dab lightly at my forehead and eyes, letting the cool water soothe without smudging.
Dangerous Dreams Page 3