Someone I Used to Know - By Blakney Francis Page 0,32

a fetus growing inside of me for nine months.

In comparison to the root canals that she usually administered, it was relatively painless.

After she was dressed in a maternity dress off her rack, I prepared with the rest of the entourage to head to set, but Madeline stopped me.

“With the call time changes, no one’s been able to get in touch with Declan. He’s probably just passed out in his trailer, but someone needs to go fetch him before he throws off the whole schedule for the day.” Her brownish-green eyes met mine expectantly.

My only reply was a blank stare.

“Great!” She smiled brightly as if I had actually agreed. “I’ll let Georgia know you’re on it.”

Quickly shuffling past me, Alfred was the first to follow, and there was no way I could get to her through the 400 pound Hawaiian. I huffed, resigned to my fate, and stomped off to do the little witch’s bidding.

I banged on the door. My blood boiled. I’d been downgraded to Madeline’s private messenger.

After what I deemed an appropriate amount of time (ten very long seconds) without getting a reply, I barged into the trailer. If Declan didn’t want people coming in, then maybe he should have hired people to keep them out like I’d suggested.

“They need you on set!” I didn’t move further than my first step inside. My irritation made me brave, not stupid. I didn’t want him attacking me or anything, thinking I was an intruder.

The shower running in the bathroom muffled his reply, but at least he knew I was there – or at least that someone was.

A familiar accent caught my attention, it wasn’t coming from behind the closed door of his bathroom but from the flat screen television that was almost as big as the wall it was mounted on. The scene that played out between a group of Aussie teens was as melodramatic as any Spanish telenovela I’d ever glimpsed. I identified the backdrop of Sydney by the signature Harbour Bridge that stood as majestically as a white topped mountain over the city. The young actors and actresses were costumed in leotards and point shoes, and my soul shivered at the reminder.

The dancing immediately drew me into the show, and I didn’t notice the water had cut off until the door snapped shut behind him.

“Adley?”

His chest…his chest was bare, tanned, and glowing in post-shower warmth. It was all I could see, and all I wanted to look at for the rest of my life. And then my eyes found his distinctly V’d hip bones….

“What the hell are you watching?” I snapped trying to shake his glistening from my mind, and focus back on the TV. I pointed at the ballet-themed teen soap with an accusing finger.

It was the first time I’d ever seen him blush, and much to my surprise, my attraction for him hit whole new heights. The little flush that scarred his cheeks was quite possibly the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

“How should I know? You’re the American. I have no control over what pollutes your airwaves.” He bristled, and I had to look away as he shook his dark hair free of any remaining water droplets, leaning with unintentional seduction against the counter in the small kitchenette. His fingertips tapped out their favorite nervous tune on the marble.

I made a doubtful face, walking to the DVD player and raising not one, but three box sets that were covered with the same characters that still chatted on screen.

He took a posture of mock surrender, his smile endearingly abashed. “Okay, so I might have a slight addiction to Australian teen soap operas.”

“Um…Why?”

Declan was the king of independent films that no one else wanted to touch. He made films that were dark, gritty, and controversial. The Girl in the Yellow Dress was one of the first mainstream projects he’d worked on. His looks and talent got him attention, not his box office numbers. So what could possibly intrigue him about clichéd teen soap?

His fingers continued their dance as he struggled reluctantly to find words. “It’s mindless…I like to just relax into it. Every hardship, every dilemma, every challenge; all solved within twenty-four minutes. There’s something peaceful about it.”

He could have left it at that. There was more honesty in his explanation than I could’ve ever expected, but Declan wasn’t done. His gray eyes flickered with something unreadable, and all I wanted to do was to tell him to stop. Do not pass go. Do not collect two-hundred dollars. Because