This was it.

I was seated against a wall, in a long corridor with grey carpet and white walls. I remembered all that Ray had told me, and the advice Ziggy had given, but how could you prepare for a day such as this, for something that meant so much? I tried to block out the girl to my right, who was murmuring her lines under her breath, eyes closed, script in hand. The girl on my left had dozens of tiny little notes written in the margins of her script. Both were a stark contrast to my prep, which consisted of simply sitting calmly, focusing on breathing in and out. Ziggy had said not to overthink it, and that last-minute cramming would only over-stress my mind and scramble my lines, so I resisted the urge to run my dialogue one more time.

Some people sat on the floor, tapping their feet, some were pacing, and a couple of others were quiet like me. I left my script in my bag, the script that I’d had to reprint twice because the previous copies had been coffee-stained and crinkled beyond recognition. I didn’t give myself permission to think about how much I hated the process, the nerves, the long waits, the demeanour of the casting director as he called people into the room. I looked away from the flushed faces that left the room after their auditions, not wanting to read into their expressions. I simply stared at the blank walls and thought about nothing. For the first time in a very long time I just let myself exist in the moment, enjoy it for what it was. What will be, will be.

‘Abby Taylor?’

The ocean sounds playing inside my head stopped abruptly as I turned towards the voice that echoed down the hall.

‘Good luck,’ whispered the margin-writing girl.

‘Thanks,’ I said, grabbing and dropping my bag.

Get it together, Abby. Shut those nerves down.

I walked down the bleakest, longest corridor of my life, my shoes sounding painfully loud on the floor. I could feel several sets of eyes on me, assessing their competition, while others were no doubt trying to block me out and stay in their own headspace, just as I had. My script was in my hands now, beginning to droop a little in my moist fingers.

I walked through the door and saw my audience: three men, one woman and a camera operator.

‘This is Abby Taylor reading for Annika,’ announced the Casting Director’s assistant.

With a polite and confident hello, I touched the back of the chair, using it as an anchor, then counted silently as I readied myself. One. I moved to the chair. Two. I sat down. Three. I took in one last steadying breath. Four. I lifted my eyes to the team assembled. Five.

Go.

Even though there was no real way of escaping the sound of choppers or the distant hum of street traffic in my little tucked-away corner of the leafy courtyard, the sounds of the city weren’t enough to distract me from my thoughts. As long as I was on my own, away from conversation, I was happy to sit on the pool’s edge, dangling my bare feet in, comforted by the cool water and the swirl from the filter jets that made the water dance along with the swishing of my feet. I placed my hands underneath my thighs; the concrete beneath was warm from the sunshine earlier in the day.

I had sat here for an hour, maybe more, and I was in no hurry to head back to the condo. I didn’t want to experience any form of reality other than this. It was soothing, replenishing. I just needed a few more moments, but what you want and what you get are often two very different things.

I sensed his presence long before he was there, silently moving to sit beside me. He rolled his jeans up and lowered his legs into the water next to mine, mirroring my pose by sitting on his hands.

It was a long moment before Jay cleared his throat. ‘Billie said Ziggy has been trying to get onto you.’

And there it was, that pesky reality.

‘My phone is switched off.’

Jay nodded, silence falling again, which I should have welcomed, but now I was aware of the world creeping back in.

After a long moment, the tension so drawn out I thought Jay might leave, he rubbed his jawline. ‘Abby, you’re going to have to help me out here.’

I stared at my wriggling toes. How could I help him when I could barely help myself?

‘Should I ask, or should we just sit here, staring and being weird?’

I shook my head, not really knowing what I was saying no to – all of it? Jay wasn’t going anywhere soon, that was pretty clear. I really didn’t want to look at him, to deal with anything outside of this comfortable little cocoon I had created, but then he turned to me.

‘Abby, come on, look at me.’

Damn that gentle way he said my name.

Jay looked into my eyes as they brimmed with tears, and I felt the streaks of salt that had dried on my face from all the times I had cried before: leaving the building after the audition, texting Ziggy as I walked towards the bus stop, riding the bus where a little girl had touched my hand to comfort me. It was all too much, too much to hold in.

Jay’s eyes were soft, his lips pressed in a thin line. ‘No good?’

My chin trembled and I shook my head again. ‘No good.’

And before the tears fell, Jay pulled me into the safety of his arms, enveloping me in his warmth and kissing the top of my head.

As good as it felt, I knew I was being stupid. I had gone to one audition, had one rejection, and now I was having a complete meltdown because I had messed up my lines. I’d been so confident, so focused, only to screw it up.

I didn’t want to be that person who cried over a bruised ego, I wanted to have thicker skin, but I couldn’t help it. It was more than wanting to show the LA Family, or the people back home, or Jay, that I wasn’t just some struggling actress; I really, really wanted that role. And sure, Ziggy and Ray had warned me that you don’t always get what you want, but part of me had thought that if I gave it everything I had I couldn’t fail. Yet here I was, knee-deep in failure.

‘Do you want to go for a swim?’

I lifted my head at Jay’s words. ‘Does that make you feel better?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, it makes me feel good. Why don’t you head upstairs and get changed and – ’

Before Jay had even finished speaking, in a desperate bid to feel better I pushed off the ledge and into the pool, submerging myself fully clothed. I let the shock waves of cold water wrap around me until my need for air brought me to the surface. Gasping, I pushed the hair from my eyes and blinked to see Jay staring at me, wondering what the hell I was doing.

‘Or you can just jump right in.’

‘You getting in?’

‘No, I think I might sit this one out.’

I splashed him and he laughed. ‘Alright, alright. You talked me into it.’

He stepped into the water, disappearing under the surface fully clothed, but he didn’t come up straightaway; instead, a dark, blurry outline hovered close to me, then a hand touched my ankle out of nowhere and I squealed. Only then did Jay break the surface, breathing heavily and laughing.

‘Stop it, you’re freaking me out,’ I laughed, my hands anchoring to his shoulders.

‘Feel better?’ he asked, spinning me around. I felt completely weightless.

‘A little.’ I linked my arms around his neck as he pulled me into the deep end.

‘If anything, the cold water has knocked some sense into me. You must think I’m a right piece of work.’

Jay turned to me, but he wasn’t smiling; his hands at my back, he looked me straight in the eyes. ‘Don’t ever stop caring about the things you love.’

Jay’s hands were skimming along my skin now, riding up underneath my top and running along my spine. I shivered, tightening my hold on him.

‘I don’t want to care. I’m so, so tired of it all, and I have been here five minutes. Maybe LA just isn’t for me.’

‘Wow, you really are throwing a pity party.’

‘I’m just being a realist.’

‘No, you’re being a quitter, and that’s something I would never have guessed you’d be.’

I shrugged. ‘Guess you don’t know me that well.’

Jay’s lips curved, and he locked his arms around me and spun me slowly once more. ‘I know you. I know that you’re impatient, and funny, and kind to your friends. I think you do like spicy food but you are too proud to admit it. I think you know what you want, but you just haven’t quite cracked it yet. I also think that you are secretly obsessed with me but again, you’d never, ever admit it.’

I raised a brow. ‘Wow, tickets on yourself much?’

‘It’s a sold-out show!’ He grinned.

‘Well, it’s too bad that you’re my boss; wait, hang on, are you still my boss? I wasn’t fired, was I?’

‘I told you, you’re employee of the month; tourists have been taking selfies out the front of the Saloon, where Leon Denero got swilled by the crazy Aussie waitress. Customers are even ordering pitchers of beer and calling it a “Leon”.’

‘No way.’

‘Sales have gone up and that’s after one shift. I’ve even heard that old Ship to Sea clips have been trending on YouTube.’

‘Oh God.’

‘So, yes, I’m still your boss, if you still need that day job.’

‘Yes, unfortunately so.’

‘It’ll be alright. You’ll learn from this and take it into your next audition.’

‘No, not that,’ I laughed. ‘I really don’t want you to be my boss … tonight.’

It didn’t take long for Jay to get the meaning, I felt it in the way his hands traced along my skin, saw it in his slow swallow.

‘And I know you, too,’ I said, cocking my head to the side and studying him intently. ‘You take pride in all that you do, and take care of the people near and dear to you. You give a hundred percent and expect it in return. You’re proud and punctual and you never break the rules.’

Jay laughed. ‘You don’t know me at all.’

‘Really, why?’

Jay stopped moving me around in circles but the world kept spinning; the only thing keeping me grounded were my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms around his neck. His mouth was so painfully close to mine I could feel his breath brush against my skin as his eyes searched mine, and I didn’t feel bad anymore. It was more than just the water that was wiping my cares away – it was so much more than that.

‘Why, Jay?’ I repeated, urging him to tell me where I had gone wrong.

‘Because tonight I intend to break all the rules.’

And just like that, he broke the very first one: he lowered his head and kissed me gently, and I was never so happy to be wrong.