with Johnny.”
His words urge an amused smile to quirk up the corners of my mouth. “It’s because of his beard, isn’t it?”
“Christ, I didn’t think it was possible, but that thing keeps getting worse.”
“You’re kind of evil the way you’re always ragging on Johnny’s beard.” A giggle jumps from my throat, and he grins down at me.
“Yeah, but you can’t deny I only speak the truth about that monstrosity.” He gently taps my nose with his index finger. “You feel a little better?”
I nod and blow out a shaky breath. “Getting there.”
“Have you eaten anything today?”
“No, not really.” I shake my head. “But food is the last thing on my mind.”
“You’ve gotta eat, sweetheart.”
I step away from his hold and snag my script off the vanity in my trailer, holding it up in the air. “No, I need to practice my damn lines, so I don’t fuck everything up tomorrow.”
“Okay,” he says with a nod and slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Let’s get out of these costumes, grab some takeout, and we can practice lines together back at the hotel.”
“Back at the hotel?” I quirk a brow. “As in, me and you, alone in a hotel room?”
“Don’t be so stubborn about it,” he answers through a teasing smirk. “It’s not like I’m asking you to put on my underwear again. We’re just going to eat some dinner and roll through the scene a few times so you’re more comfortable in the morning.”
I roll my eyes on an annoyed sigh. “Oh my God, enough about your stupid underwear.”
“Speaking of my underwear, do you still have them, or are you planning to keep them?” he asks, playfulness evident in his voice. “Oh, wait, let me guess. You’re probably wearing them right now.”
I flip him the middle finger, and his quiet chuckle fills my ears.
“All right, enough about my awesome underwear and back to the important stuff like food and helping you run through your lines back at the hotel,” he steps forward and takes the script from my hands, rolls it up, and slides into the back pocket of his jeans. “I’ve been in your shoes before, sweetheart. And trust me, a good meal and running through the scene with your costar will ensure that you don’t have a repeat on set tomorrow morning.”
I sigh. I wish he weren’t right. But he is right.
I need to eat. And I certainly could use a little help working past whatever mental block made today’s filming go sour.
“Fine,” I agree. “But we’re going to my hotel room, and I get to choose the takeout.”
He smirks. “Deal.”
Andrew
Uh oh… Someone is about to get sassy…
“Ugh! What is wrong with me? Why can’t I get this right?” Birdie tosses her script down onto the table littered with containers of half-eaten takeout.
This is our fourth run-through, and I can tell by the tight, exasperated look on her face that she’s growing more frustrated by the second. Her chest moves up and down in a rough breath, and two frustrated hands tug at her long blond locks.
“Why can’t I get this right?” she berates herself through a tense jaw.
“You’re doing good, Birdie,” I reassure her. “Don’t give up now.”
“Don’t patronize me.” She lets out a deep sigh and tosses her body down onto the hotel bed in dramatic fashion. “I’m doing awful!”
A laugh jumps from my throat at her pathetic albeit adorable display on the mattress. “C’mon, drama queen. You are doing good. You almost got through the whole scene on this last run.”
“I’m not a drama queen.” She glares at me, grabs a pillow to cover her face, and a muffled, frustrated groan into the cottony material follows.
Even though I can no longer see her pretty face, I smirk down at her. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re basically throwing a temper tantrum, sweetheart.”
“Shut up, Andy.” She groans into the pillow again. “Good God, I suck. And truthfully, even though I’m not much of a drinker, I could really use a big ole glass of wine right now to take the edge off.”
“You want some wine?” I ask, and she peeks out from beneath the pillow covering her face.
“Yes, please?”
“Okay…” I pause and smile down at her, more than ready to negotiate with the cute temper-tantrum terrorist. “If I get you some wine, will you be able to get it together and finish working through this scene?”
“Yes.” She nods, and I raise a questioning brow.
“You sure about that?”
“Yes, but only