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I’m just going to tell him, “Hi.” Or maybe just look at him from afar. Either way, it’s day three and I’m making progress. We both know we’re tiptoeing around each other’s existence. And there’s no point to that.

The steam from the coffee billows into my face as I blow across the top. It’s smooth and delicious as it goes down, but I hardly taste it. I keep my eyes straight ahead as I hide in the shadows just off set.

It’s been ten years. Not long enough for the memories to fade, but hopefully long enough to be cordial.

I close the script in my hands as well, letting my finger run along the edge of the thick binding. Night Fire. That’s the title it has for now, but that doesn’t mean it’s what the show will actually be called.

“Action,” Stevens calls out from his chair and I can barely see him, the lights are so dim. The studio lights are high up, and all directed on the stage that’s been set up to look like an office. An expensive one, at that. The floors are made to look like real wood when they’re only linoleum, but the furniture is solid and expensive, most of it a deep rich brown. The little odds and ends, like the scattered papers and a mug on the desk, with paperbacks and awards on the bookshelf make it seem as though the office space is truly lived in. It gives personality to Robby’s office.

Nathan’s character is nothing like him at all. I avert my eyes and stare into the dark brown coffee. It needs more creamer. I swallow thickly and try to stop my train of thought.

I don’t know who Nathan is anymore. It’s possible I never really did know him.

The sound of the door shutting on set makes me focus again on the stage ahead of me. Nathan’s eyes slowly lift, his fingers softly closing a book as he lets his eyes drift up and then back down to Julie, or I should say Miranda, Julie’s character.

“Robby, are you hiding from me?” she asks coyly, walking across the set and my eyes instinctually move to the cameras that follow her, ever so smoothly.

She’s a seductress and is damn good at it. The red dress she’s wearing clings to her hips as she walks, and the same red color is painted on her lips.

“Robby, please,” she purrs, leaning over the desk and giving him just a peek of her cleavage. I’ve watched her shows before and this role is different from anything else she’s done. “We’ve known each other for how long?” she asks him, her perfectly shaped brow arching as she moves to sit on the edge of the desk.

This is a form of torture I think, watching Nathan and Julie act out this scene together.

I haven’t watched a single one of his movies and I didn’t ever intend to, but now I’m curious.

Nathan’s expression is stiff, uncomfortable even. The papers rustle in my hands as I look down to read the scene again.

I flip the page over as quietly as I can and then peek up at Stevens, who looks pissed.

There’s no way around it; Nathan’s doing a shitty job. He isn’t showing any interest in Miranda, Julie’s character, in the least. Which is not what’s written in the script at all.

“Cut!” Director Stevens yells out and it’s the first time in days that I’ve heard his voice ring out with such frustration-laced authority. I’ve heard rumors about him, whispers in the industry about his interactions with actors being a bit hostile and demanding. It looks like I’m about to get a front row seat to exactly what they mean, but it makes me sick to my stomach, because I’m certain it’ll be directed at Nathan.

The tension and disappointment in the air are palpable as the lights slowly get brighter and the onlookers, like me, begin to make faint noises while they shift their feet, flip through pages and whisper to their neighbors.

“You need to bring this scene to life. The emotion. There’s passion between them.” Director Stevens is calling out to Nathan and I watch as he nods his head repeatedly, but he doesn’t stop looking at me.

My heart races and I can’t breathe. Stop looking, Nathan. But it’s not just his eyes anymore. The longer he stares at me, the more everyone else notices. I’m caught in their questioning stares and the only thing I can think is that I need to get out of here.

“Oh, that’s why,” I hear Julie say as she turns on her heels and walks back to the faux door. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and then looks back at me. My cheeks burn with embarrassment. “She shouldn’t be here if she’s distracting him.”

I didn’t do anything. I look everywhere except at her and Nathan, but all eyes are on me. Onlookers glance between Nathan and Julie, and then to me.

My breath is caught in my throat as I lower the papers in my hand. I wish I could run. All of this attention is solely because he won’t stop staring.

I didn’t make a noise. I didn’t try to do a damn thing to distract him or anyone else. My teeth sink into my bottom lip and I keep my eyes on the ground, but I feel compelled to lift them. I can feel his dark eyes on me and when I raise them, sure enough, he’s still focused on me. Not just a subdued look but a blatant stare that pierces through me, like a thin dagger meant to hold me perfectly still and threaten my very life.

The murmurs get louder and I know they’re whispering about Nathan and me. Do they know something I don’t?

“Stop it,” I mouth to Nathan. It takes everything in me to do it. To even acknowledge that I can see him and he can see me. But he merely shakes his head slowly. Just once, but it’s enough to let me know that he doesn’t care about the awkward situation he’s putting me in.

I try to turn away, ripping my eyes from Nathan’s gaze, but it only leaves me caught in another. The director’s. Stevens is staring straight at me and I only turn for a moment to see Nathan running his hands through his hair in frustration. He’s no longer looking at me, and his back is turned, but that fact only makes the sickness churn more and more in my stomach.

“You.” The loud voice is directed at me and it makes my body jump. Director Stevens points right at me, his voice bellowing in the confines of the set as he shouts, “Get off the set!”