I are. A part of me wants to correct them, but when I try to figure out how to correct them, I realize it’s not that simple.
Technically, we’re not dating. And we’re not just friends.
I mean, just friends certainly have fun together, which Andrew and I do, but they don’t have wild, insane, amazing sex together on a near-nightly basis. And they certainly don’t make a point to cuddle each other to sleep or steal kisses while working or text dirty things when seeing each other isn’t possible.
Yeah, so, I don’t really have a freaking clue what we are, but I know I’m not going to be the one to burst his sweet mom’s bubble and traumatize her with details of her son’s sex life.
So, I do the only thing I can do.
I just smile and go with the flow.
“And don’t worry,” Mary Lou adds. “My Andrew has already told us that you guys are keeping your relationship a secret for now. So, mum’s the word. Even for Tim. He knows we have plenty of room to hide his body in our backyard if need be.”
Holy hell. Tonight, I guess I am Andrew’s girlfriend.
Too bad you can’t be his actual girlfriend, huh?
My heart flips inside my chest and butterflies float around inside my belly.
Oh, what the hell is that about?
Me, Birdie Harris, falling for Hollywood’s biggest player?
That would be absurd…right?
Play the game, Birdie. Don’t get attached to the player, I remind myself.
Andrew
Filming might be coming to an end, but I’m not ready to say goodbye to Birdie.
“Hot damn, everyone!” Howie shouts. “If we’re very lucky and Birdie and Andrew bring their A-game right now, this, right here, is the final shot for Grass Roots!” He flashes a grin toward Birdie and me, who are currently standing on set, ready to dive into Scene 102.
The final scene.
For once while filming a movie, production has managed to schedule the true last scene of the film on the final day of filming.
I swear to God, this has never happened. Not once in my entire career.
Generally speaking, everything is filmed out of order and solely dependent on location and budget.
“You guys ready?” Howie asks.
I nod and look down at my costar. “You ready, Birdie?”
She grins. “Yep.”
“Are you sure, though?” I ask, a teasing hint to my voice, and she rolls her eyes, visibly remembering the past moments when I’d asked her just that with the sole purpose of riling her up. “I mean, I know sometimes it takes you a little while to find your stride.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Andy.” She narrows her eyes and pointedly scratches her cheek with her middle finger. “I’m ready.”
Fire and sass. I smile down at her and lean forward to whisper something into her ear.
This time, though, I don’t want to rile her up.
I just want to see her soar.
“I’m not worried, sweetheart. I know you got this.”
For the briefest of moments, her eyes flash with sweetness and a soft smile plays at her lips, but it doesn’t take long before she’s schooling her face in preparation. “Everyone, quiet on set!” Howie shouts and sits down in his director’s chair.
“Scene 102, Take 3!” a PA shouts. “Action!”
Instantly, the buzzing sounds of silence fill my ears.
And Birdie morphs into Arizona Lee.
She’s dressed in this sexy little dress with her favorite cowgirl boots, and her lips are turned down at the corners. She just finished a show. Her biggest show. And she just found out that Cal was in the audience.
It’s been a few months since she’s last seen Cal. A tragic breakup led to Arizona leaving him behind in Memphis, and ever since then, even though it’s where her uncle Joe’s bar is located, she’s refused to step foot in the city where her tumultuous love story with Cal started.
Too many memories. Too much sadness. The wounds still too raw.
Until tonight.
When her record-breaking album and a sold-out arena brought her back.
“It’s been a while, darlin’,” I say, and she stares up at me with those big brown eyes of hers. “Too fucking long, if you ask me.”
She scoffs. “Why are you here, Cal?”
I could respond with a million different things, a thousand different reasons, but the truth is simple.
“I miss you.”
My words force her body to take a step back, the outside lights and the tall cement structure and the dark alley playing together and casting shadows over her pretty face.
“Don’t bullshit me,” she whispers, and I shake my head and step toward her.