Page 81 of The Fake Script
His eyes widen slightly, and he takes my hand. “I’m—wow.”
“Yeah, I know. Now you definitely think I’m weird,” I say, biting my lip. “But I thought you should know. I don’t exactly have a ton of experience when it comes to this relationship thing.”
“Of course I don’t think you’re weird. If anything, I’m honored,” he says, his fingers grazing my knuckles. “The fact that I’m the only one you ever let in means the world to me. You’re so precious, Emma. And I’ll do everything in my power to makeyou feel that way. To make you feel safe. For as long as you’ll let me.”
“Thank you,” I peep, feeling suddenly bashful.
He draws me into a kiss, and I want to jump on the opportunity to talk about what’s going to happen when the movie is done. He’s definitely in this for the long run, but is he going to stay in New York? Does he expect me to move to LA? Are we supposed to try the long-distance relationship thing? I open my mouth to ask, but I finally decide against it. Right now isn’t the time. Right now, I’m kissing the only man I’ve ever loved—my boyfriend. No matter how many times I say it, it still sounds weird. But the best kind of weird.
32
Fabricated
Auston
Things are going great with Emma, and I’m happy. Truly happy. And I’m eager for what’s to come. I’m even more excited for this movie shoot to be over so I can spend all my time with her. We’ve been running scenes in soundstages most of the week, and I can’t wait to be back on Warlington Lane.
Once the day’s shoot is over, I head back to my apartment, stopping at the Japanese place on the ground floor of my building to grab some dinner. Emma and the girls are doing one of their Instagram lives for the bookstore tonight, and I didn’t want to be in the way.
I’m waiting for my order when Madison appears next to me, a take-out bag in her hand.
“Hey,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes. “What are you doing here?”
“My apartment’s upstairs. What’s your excuse?” I ask, turning away to roll my eyes. Yes, she has dialed it down a little, probably sensing that my relationship with Emma is more than just a fling. But she still seems to pop up everywhere I go. I bumped into her at the cake shop when I was ordering Emma’s birthday cake, and again a few days ago after a meeting downtown.
“Just thought I’d stop to get dinner on my way home.”
“Great. Well, have a good night.”
My name is being called, so I grab my order and rush out of the store, Madison on my tail. I hold the door for her, and she places a hand on my forearm. “Thank you. Such a gentleman.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes again, ready to proceed with my evening, but she starts walking in the opposite direction, and we bump heads.
“Ouch,” she says, massaging her forehead.
“Crap. I’m sorry,” I say, a jolt of worry coursing through me as I meet her eyes. As much as Madison can be a royal pain, I don’t actually want her tosuffer. Especially not because of me. “Does it hurt?”
“A little.” She winces. “Do I have an awful bump?”
Of course that’s what she’d worry about. I lean in closer and examine her forehead. “No, you’re good.”
“Phew,” she says, leaning against me. “Disaster averted.”
“Right.” My eyebrows shoot up, and I clear my throat loudly. “Well, I gotta go. See you soon.”
She flashes me a bright smile. “Bye, Auston.”
As soon as I’m home, I slump onto the couch and turn the TV on, scrolling through the streaming offerings until I land on an interesting Broadway play. A jolt of excitement hits me. I’ve always loved theatre, and this sounds like the perfect night to take in a performance.
But the more I watch the actors bustling across the stage, the more I wish I could be the one standing up there, performing for an enraptured audience. I’ve always been happy doing movies, and for a long time, I thought that was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. But theatre has always been at the back of my mind. Acting in front of a live audience night after night is riskier, but it’s also more thrilling.
Strangely, the imposter syndrome I usually get when I imagine myself on a stage doesn’t hit this time. I would normally shut my hopes down right away, telling myself that theatre is for real actors. That I could never do it. That I don’t have what it takes. But this time, I’m honestly considering the idea. Because it would be the perfect scenario for Emma and me, allowing me to keep acting while being near her. For once, I’m not driven by my fears, but by the possibility of a bright future. By my dreams. We haven’t talked about it yet, but with the movie shoot ending soon, that conversation is inevitable. I would never ask her to uproot her life now that she’s finally found a home again, butIcan.
When I wake up, my phone screen shows hundreds of notifications, including ones from popular tabloids, and my stomach sinks. What now?
I also have missed calls from Robyn and my mom. Suddenly, I’m very awake. I unlock my phone and check the first tabloid article. A bunch of pictures of Madison and me flood my vision with the headline, “Lovebirds Back Together!”
Rage creeps up to my neck as I read the sensational piece. Heaving a deep breath, I take a closer look at the pictures. They were taken yesterday outside the Japanese place. In one of the shots, I’m holding the door for Madison, and she’s all smiles. In the next, shehas her hand resting on my forearm. In another, we’re standing painfully close as I check her forehead. Scrolling down, I land on more pictures from different days. Madison and me talking when we bumped into each other at the cake place—and looking a lot closer than we actually were.