I spent Sunday in bed hiding under the covers and willing Saturday to be a dream. Fisher texted that he was tied up all day with filming and would talk to me tomorrow, but what I heard him say was, last night was awful and I need a day away from you to decide if I can put up with you anymore.
If I were a GIF right now, I’d be the first picture you see when you type in pathetic. It’s Monday before 8:00 a.m. and I’m pouting my way into my office. All that’s missing from this image is my kicking a rock on the way there. How did things go from YAY to NAY so quickly?
I put my bag on the floor and unlock my office door. I beat Brenna to the office. That’s rare. I stand in the doorway and stare at my desk. I don’t want to be here, but I don’t want to be home either. This is going to be the longest Monday in history. Man, my life has changed over the last year.
I drop my bag on the floor and roll out my desk chair so I can sit in it. I wait for my laptop to whirr to life and run my fingers through my hair. I just washed and brushed it before I left, yet there’s a huge tangle. How in the hell does that happen? It’s as if my individual hairs decided to hug each other on the way here. They must feel as bad as I do.
I click on my emails and see one from the production company. It’s titled “First round script.”
Holy crap. It’s done!
I hear Brenna talking to Luna in the hall outside my door. I’ve been completely preoccupied with reading ever since I got the email.
“She was here before I was. I don’t know. She hasn’t said much. She looks like she hasn’t slept.”
I shout. “I can hear you!” as I make a comment next to a line I think could be better.
“Hey,” Luna says as she walks in my office. “Are you writing?”
“Do I know something before you for once?”
“What?”
“The script is here.”
“What?” She bolts alongside me and bends down to read the page I’m on. “How is it?”
I teeter my head back and forth. “All things considered, not bad. Not bad at all.”
“Did they send me a copy?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t check.”
“Okay, I’m on it.” She rushes for the door and stops mid-way, spinning on her heel. “So . . . how did things go after I left Saturday night?”
I frown and lift my eyes in her direction briefly before refocusing them on the script.
“That bad?”
“He couldn’t leave fast enough. I think he’s done with me.”
“No . . . no way! He doesn’t strike me as a guy who gives up easily.”
“Yeah, well, maybe he didn’t like what he saw.” I shrug.
“What did he say?” she asks, stepping toward me.
“Nothing really. I haven’t talked to him. He said he was busy yesterday and has basically dropped off the face of the Earth.”
“Did you text him?”
“And say what? Was my pussy not to your liking? Sorry my best friend showed up and mentioned how big your dick looked in your boxers.”
She cringes. “Sorry about that. I was surprised.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m the one with slippery fingers. I honestly didn’t think I sent that text. Maybe the phone company hates me too.”
“Oh stop. Don’t be a Debbie Downer.”
“Maybe that’ll be the title of my next book. I’ll write a story about a pessimistic girl who sees negative everywhere she turns.”
“Sounds like a real winner. You need to put positive vibes into the universe. If Fisher said he was busy, then he was probably just busy.”
“Yep. I’m sure making out in front of camera is hard work. I put the emphasis on hard there. I don’t know if you noticed.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Do you want me to call him and apologize? See what he has to say?”
“God, no. Let him be. I have work to do. I don’t have time for a relationship anyway.”
“Think positive. I bet you’ll hear from him soon.”
I shrug. “I’m going to keep reading, okay?”
She nods then walks to the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her shoot me a pity pout. I refuse to acknowledge it. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I have a job to do and that’s what I’m going to focus on.
I’ve had a range of emotions today. I’m starting to think I have multiple personalities. One minute I feel confident and purposeful. The next, there are tears in my eyes and I want to crawl under my desk and rock myself. Being a water sign sucks. I hate that I care too much. Overthinking everything sucks even more. Why can’t I be one of those people who doesn’t give a shit?
After three hours of staring at my phone, I finally turned it off and put it in my purse in my drawer. Even if he texted me, I wouldn’t see it. It gives me a sense of power to be too busy for him. But I keep finding reasons to open the drawer.
Is it dry in here? Gum would really do the trick. Did I bring my wallet to work? I’d better check. Dumbass. Is he that busy he can’t even say good morning? People are only too busy for the things they don’t care about. If he cared, he’d find a second to let me know. Men suck. All of them. They toy with our emotions, pulling us in just to push us away. Well, I’m done playing games. I’m too old for this shit.
Yanking the drawer open, I reach for my phone and plot the nasty text I’m going to send him. I turn it on and see I’ve missed five texts from him. Grinning from ear to ear as I read them, I realize what a complete basket case I’ve become. I was pissed and here the sweetie has been texting all along.
FISHER: Hey, babe. Sorry I couldn’t talk last night.
We did fifteen takes on one scene. It was ridiculous.
I hope you had a good day.
Do you have any plans tomorrow night?
Call me when you get a chance.
Aww . . . he does care. I shake my head at myself and feel bad for hating on him. He didn’t do anything other than work his ass off all day. I dial his number and spin in my chair to gaze out the window as it rings.
“Hi. How are you?” he asks.
“Good. How are you?”
“Tired. I didn’t get home until two a.m. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
“No biggie,” I lie. “I knew you said you’d be busy.”
“So you weren’t worried?”
I pause. I could say no here. I could act like I have all the confidence in the world. Guys like confidence. Or, I could tell him I’ve been slamming drawers all day because I’m a mess. Hmm . . . decisions.
“You were worried. I can tell.”
I shrug and then remember he can’t see me on the phone. “Maybe a little. I figured you were upset with me for Saturday night.”
“Ugh. Of course not. Why in the world would I be?”
“Because . . . Luna and . . . well . . . me.”
“You? You mean you and your gorgeous body? I have spanking material for life.”
I giggle and cover my mouth with my hand. “What are you doing right now?” I stammer and feel the need to clarify. “What I mean is are you getting ready for work or chilling? I didn’t mean spanking the monkey.”
He laughs. “I’m going to jump in the shower and head back to the set. But hey, are you free tomorrow night? They’re having a little cast party, so our families can visit the set and see what we do. I’d love it if you’d come.”
“Really? Wouldn’t you rather have your mom or your brother?”
“They’re all the way in Ohio. They’d never make it. But I would be honored if you’d come. Will you?”
How can I say no to him? “Sure. I’d love to.”
“I’ll text you the address. It starts at four, but you can come any time after if you’re working.”
“I think I’ll skip out early.”
“Great. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll try to text or call later, but there’s a no phone rule while we’re filming. The bigger stars break it all the time, but I can’t risk being labeled. I can try to get to it on break, but those breaks are few and far between. I hope you understand.”
“Me? Of course I do!” I wave my hand in the air like it’s no big deal. The reality is that after a few hours, I’ll probably start worrying needlessly again.
“Don’t worry, okay? I’m crazy about you.”
I bite my lip. “I’m crazy about you too.”
“Good. Pretend I’m kissing you. I gotta go. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I end the call and swirl around in my chair like I’m floating. I don’t remember ever having so many butterflies before in my life. It feels amazing. Tapping on my belly, I speak to them out loud. “Don’t you leave me now. You make me so happy. You stay right there.”
“Uh . . . everything okay?” Brenna asks.
I turn to see her staring at me.
“Are you pregnant?”
And this is how rumors begin.