First Comes Like (Modern Love #3) - Alisha Rai Page 0,118
ranked serial for a decade. I am a big fish in a massive pond.”
Hudson’s face went tight, though Dev had kept his tone mild. Hudson waved the script he was holding. “No offense, dude. I came over here to offer my congrats and make sure you saw the rewrites. Looks like you get some time off to swim, big fish.”
“What?” Dev accepted the sheaf of papers and thumbed through it, his alarm growing with every page. He’d essentially been cut out of the next episode, his role reduced to a few lines.
Hudson made a sympathetic noise. “I know, man, bummer. It happens to the best of us. Don’t complain next time, or they get kinda cranky.”
But Hudson had told him to . . . Dev nearly slapped himself. Of course Hudson had sabotaged him. The man’s role had expanded to fill Dev’s space, and he was chasing that shiny Emmy. “Thanks,” he said, through gritted teeth, and came to his feet.
Hudson’s smile was sweet. “No problem.”
Dev texted Jia as he walked away from the asshole. Where are you?
Home.
On my way.
How do you feel about Chinese? she asked.
Sounds good. He hesitated, but put his phone away. Talking about his feelings instead of shoving them down in a box was hard enough in person. He didn’t need to do it over text.
Jia was already unpacking the Chinese food when he got there. She gave him a bright smile when he walked in, and he responded. She was dressed in dark skinny jeans and a loose hot pink blouse. Her feet were bare, her toes painted a matching pink. She’d taken her hijab off but hadn’t combed her hair, and a clump of it stuck out on top of her head. Beautiful.
“Hey there, handsome.”
He smiled, some of the emotional weight leaving him. “Hello.” He pressed a kiss on her cheek, though she turned her face so it would land on her lips. She was so sweet. Simply being in her presence eased him. “Smells good,” he remarked, and went to the sink to wash his hands.
“Thank you, I’ve been toiling away all day to make it.” She dumped lo mein in a bowl and handed him a pair of chopsticks.
They ate at the small breakfast table. “How was your day?” he asked.
“Great.” She swung her legs, and that was when he noticed the vibrating energy running through her.
He stopped with a piece of broccoli halfway to his mouth. “Did something happen?”
“Yeah. I mean, it may not be a big deal. I got a call from this woman at MakeOut. She wants to have a meeting with me to discuss a makeup line.”
The barely suppressed glee in her voice told him this was a potentially very big thing. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you.” She nibbled on a snow pea. “I don’t want to get too excited. I’ve been in talks for stuff like this before, and it’s fallen through.”
“If you get the line, will you move away from social media?”
“Not totally. But it would be a good stepping-stone to my eventual goal.” Her eyes darkened. “Of course, it could bomb, and that could make my goal even harder to get to.”
“Or it could do well.” He thought of what his niece had said about his job, and how right she’d been. “I don’t believe you’re happy, doing what you’re doing now.”
“I’m not.” She wrinkled her nose, and gave a startled laugh. “I haven’t admitted that out loud yet, but I really don’t think I can do it anymore. I’m burned out. I was burned out before I got sick, but now I really feel like I’m frantically chasing likes. I want to do something different for a change.”
“So do it. If this MakeOut deal falls through, find something else. Don’t be stuck in something you hate.”
“It’s not bad advice.” She swallowed a bite of food. “What about you, how was your day?”
“Ah . . .” Since she’d just delivered good news, he hated to bring down the mood, but he needed to share this with her. “Actually, not great. They seem to have reduced my role a little.”
Her brow creased. “What? Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, how do you feel?”
He thought about that for a second, pushed past his bruised pride. “I’m annoyed but not devastated. Luna is right, this show isn’t for me.”
“Do you miss your old job?”
“I do,” he confessed. “I thought a drama here would offer me the same things.” It didn’t. Hope Street had no passion, no excitement. If he was bored, how would viewers