Fame, Fate, and the First Kiss Page 30

“Nice, because here you are.” She pushed play. As I watched, I noticed something: I had been more confident that day performing, more sure of myself, than I had been since actually landing the job.

“What’s wrong?” Amanda asked after a minute. “You were great.”

I must’ve sighed out loud while watching. I stood. “I better get to set before I’m late. Thanks for that. It was actually very helpful.”

Watching that audition had reminded me that I had earned this role. And I took that feeling and used it. The lights, the people, energized me today.

“You’re feeling it today,” Grant said during a break to move lights.

“I am. It’s like I remembered what I was doing.”

“You’re kind of hard on yourself, I’ve noticed.” He put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed. “Never doubt that you’re exactly where you should be.” And as if he didn’t have the ability to be nice without ruining it, he added, “Right next to me.”

I shook my head with a smile, knowing he was at least partially kidding. “You were almost supportive.”

“I’m the most supportive person I know.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Even if I was trying to forget about the person talking about me in the hall, there was one thing they said that was absolutely true. “You’ve been in the public eye pretty much your whole life now. How do you recommend I change the online narrative of me?”

“Is it bad?”

“You haven’t seen all the things people say about me? That is, if they’re talking about me at all.”

“No, I haven’t. I only ever look up my own stuff, which hasn’t been great lately. I don’t know if I have an answer for you. Hire a publicist?”

The same thing his agent had suggested. “And if I can’t afford that? What do you think about me going to talk to that group of fans that always lines the fence holding their devotion to you on poster boards? Would that be good for me or bad?”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt.”

“Do you talk to them?”

“Sometimes.”

“Would you go out there with me sometime? Maybe say something nice about me. Sign some autographs or something? Maybe they’ll post about it. Or maybe you could post something online.”

“I’d have to ask my publicist if that’s a good idea for me. I’ll let you know.”

“Right. Okay.” Did I really expect that we were good enough friends now that he would do something as a favor to me? Whatever. It didn’t matter. I’d gotten here with my own group of people supporting me; I’d keep going forward the same way. I didn’t let this affect me. I finished out my day as strong as I started it and left the set with determination to make things work.

Eighteen


The next morning, as I climbed out of my car at the studio, a car pulled to a stop next to mine, revved its engine, and then idled. I looked over to see Aaron sitting behind the wheel of his dad’s black convertible. I only knew it was his dad’s because I’d seen Remy driving it before.

I smiled. “Excuse me, sir, but aren’t you too young to be driving that?”

“My dad lets me drive it around the studio.”

“Your dad is very brave.”

“Do you want to go for a ride?”

“Your dad is much braver than me.”

“You can at least sit in it.”

“Fine.” It was a nice car. I didn’t know makes or models of cars very well but it had a tan leather interior that looked brand-new. I opened the door and sat down.

“What do you think? When I turn sixteen, he’s giving it to me. Does it seem like an old-man car?”

“It seems like a rich old-man car. But if my dad had given me a really expensive convertible when I turned sixteen, I wouldn’t have complained.”

He shrugged. “It’s a guilt gift.”

“Guilt gift?”

“Yeah, we were supposed to go on a big trip this year, but then my dad got this job.”

“Where were you going to go?”

“Lots of places, but I was looking forward to Thailand the most.”

“Maybe you can still go, when filming is over?”

“Well, then there’s editing and then there’s promoting and then they start talking about sequels. You know how it is,” he said.

“Actually, I don’t.”

He smiled. “You will.”

“Sorry about your trip.”

“No worries, I’m getting a guilt gift.” He patted the steering wheel. “By the way, I meant to tell you that you did great yesterday.”

“Thanks, it felt pretty good.”

“I’m just going to drive you to the entrance.” He pointed to the opening in the gate fifty feet in front of us.

My eyes went wide.

“Really?” he said. “I’m that scary?”

“I can just see the headlines now. ‘Lacey Barnes in Accident with Underage Driver.’”

“There are literally zero cars between me and that gate.”

“Fine. But drive really, really slow.”

“Maybe my dad should give you this old-lady car.”

Seriously. Had Donavan been rubbing off on me? When had I turned into an old lady? When had I started worrying so much? Aaron lifted his foot off the brake and the car moved slowly. It felt like he didn’t even apply the gas at all before he came to a stop in front of the gate. “There you are, madam. Have a good day.”

“Thanks for the ride, and be careful.”

For the second day in a row, Remy smiled when we finished filming. Then he added a thumbs-up and “Nice job, Lacey.” Sure, we were working on zombie scenes and not love scenes, but it still felt good.

In my trailer, I changed into some street clothes and made short work of my makeup. We’d finished a little early today because it had gone so well, and for a second I thought about going home, but then I remembered I’d promised Amanda I would help her with Grant. Why she liked Grant was becoming less and less apparent by the day. Didn’t she talk to the same Grant I talked to? Whatever, maybe he was different with her. Maybe he thought she was a bigger star than me. I hadn’t seen anything bad about Amanda online when I’d googled her kissing scenes.

Revisions sat on my table next to my very much untouched packet Donavan had left the other day. I looked at both and picked up my packet. I’d have time to look over revisions later.

I settled in and had only completed three problems when there was a knock on my door. “Come in!” I called, fully expecting Amanda and Grant.

It was Donavan. “Hey,” he said. “You’re not a zombie today.”

My cheeks went hot, the memory of our last, awkward interaction still fresh. I refused to be awkward today. We were friends. “So observant. What gave me away?” I moved some papers I had spread out on the couch so he could sit. “I didn’t think you were coming today.”

He slung his backpack onto the table. “We got zero done last time, so I figured I could come help you power through the math.”

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