Young Adulting - Christina Benjamin Page 0,6

of the conference room, not rushing for the first time since I woke up this morning. Finally, I didn’t feel like the loser of the group. I might not have had the clothes to look the part or hair that stayed perfect all day like Taylor’s or the connections to give me an in…

But I did have drive. I had ambition.

And for the first time in two weeks, I knew without a doubt that I would be the last one standing because I already had my script.

And this script?

It was a winner.

I sat down and opened my laptop. Everyone else was at square one, but all I had to do was compose an email to the screenwriter.

I opened a new email and typed in the email address I’d looked up the moment I’d finished reading his script.

Dear Leo…. I stopped typing and thought about how to phrase what I wanted to say.

Dear Leo...I’m about to make your dreams come true.

I grinned and hit backspace. I had to be formal. I had to be professional. Because I might be making Leo Lang’s day with this email, but if this worked and I won…?

His script would be more than making my day. It was my golden ticket to getting the life I’d always dreamt of.

Chapter Two

Henry

“Darling, I thought Elena was joining us?”

I froze with my spoon halfway to my mouth. “Well, that would be awkward, don’t you think? Considering we broke up.” Again.

I cringed at the unfortunate reminder of how little my parents listened to me, and that I’d been stupid enough to let Elena Rhodes reel me back in only to break my heart again.

Some might say dating a co-star was just asking for trouble, but who else was there for me to date? No one in the real world had any idea what my life was like. Even most actors couldn’t imagine it. Growing up in the shadow of fame and fortune always wondering your worth...

I gripped the gold soup spoon tighter as my mother sighed deeply over her chilled watermelon gazpacho. “Well I wish I would’ve known, darling. Now we have too many place settings.”

I clenched my jaw, trying not to react to my mother’s little dig. Why on earth did she even care about stupid place settings? It’s not like she expended any effort on it. One of the dozens of house staff she employed had set the table and with a snap of my mother’s fingers, they would undo it, removing any evidence of her disappointment in me yet again.

She was always dying for me to bring my dates around. In some sick way it was like she was living vicariously through me. Perhaps it was because any love between my parents had died long ago. Their relationship pretty much operated like a successful business merger. There was mutual success, sure. Monetary gain, definitely. But romance? Maybe at one point, but I certainly hadn’t seen it in my lifetime.

But it wasn’t my job to entertain my mother with my disaster of a love life. The only girl I’d dated in the last year and a half was Elena Rhodes. We were one of those on-again off-again couples that ruled the tabloids. It was absurd that people actually believed the ridiculous things written about us. But I guess that's just the nature of the beast.

An on-screen couple dating in real life? That was the stuff Hollywood fairytales were made of.

Too bad our fairytale wasn’t going to get a happy ending. I’d promised myself this was it. A guy could only have his heart ripped out by the same girl so many times before losing hope—and not to mention his man card.

I was determined to get over Elena. And the best way to do that was to fall in love again. Luckily, I had. With my script. The only problem was, Beyond Sunset didn’t seem to be eliciting the warm and fuzzies from anyone else. Especially my father.

I hadn’t even worked up the nerve to tell him about it yet. But today was the day. Because if I didn’t tell him now, all the rejection letters I’d received would destroy what was left of my confidence.

Honestly, I wasn’t used to rejection. It stung more than I’d imagined. But I believed in my script and I was determined to bring it to life, one way or another. Using my father’s connections had always been a last resort, but it seemed I was out of options—and time.

My father took a sip