Page 47 of My Unscripted Life

I spin around. “You know, that only works when I’m not intimately acquainted with the sound of your voice,” I reply with a grin.

“Oh? ‘Intimately,’ you say?” he says, and I instantly blush.

“You know what I mean,” I say. I glance around at the crew, who’re starting to break down the camera equipment and the lighting rigs. My excitement over the final shot melts away. It’s over. It’s really over.

My face must give me away, because Milo ducks slightly to look into my eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” I tell him, though I’m mortified that I let a tiny sniffle escape. We still haven’t talked about what’s happening next, but whatever it is it’s coming soon. I heard Lydia confirming her flight out of Atlanta. A red-eye. Tonight, after the wrap party.

Milo is unconvinced. I’ve proven once again that I’m no actress. But he decides to overlook my reaction, which I’m not sure I appreciate. “So I was thinking I could pick you up for the wrap party?”

“Yeah, okay,” I reply, realizing this was yet another missed opportunity to figure out what happens, well, tomorrow. “Walk me out?”

Milo throws an arm around me and pulls me in close to his side. I nestle my head up into the little nook he makes for me and fall into step with him. Even though his legs are infinitely longer than mine, we fall into a comfortable stride. We make our way through the warehouse, stepping over fat bundles of cords and dodging crew members hauling equipment back into the storage lockers.

“Oh, wait, I have to say goodbye to Ruth,” I say. “Mind if we make a pit stop?”

We make a quick turn and double back through the warehouse and down the hall into the prop closet. I don’t see Ruth at her work table, but I hear some rustling coming from behind one of the shelves, so I make my way back. I start to call for her, but as soon as I turn down the last aisle of shelving, I’m stopped in my tracks. Leaning up against a rack of dishware is Lydia, and she’s got herself draped all over a bearded guy in cargo shorts and an orange T-shirt, with socks and bandanna to match.

“Benny?” I yelp, then cover my mouth with both hands. Lydia’s head snaps to me, her hair flying in a silky red sheet. Benny hops a little like he’s been zapped by a jolt of electricity, then shoves both his hands into his pockets, his eyes on his shoes. “Wait, the guy you’re seeing is…Holy crap!Benny?”

“It’s Ben,” he says, hunching his shoulders up to his ears and shuffling his feet.

“Is everything—” Milo says, skidding around the corner and smacking into my back as soon as he sees what I’m seeing. Even though they’re no longer attached at the lip, it takes only one look at the pair of guilty faces for Milo to figure out what was just happening. “Wait, Lydia?”

The whole scene is ridiculous, and I can’t help myself. I start to laugh—low giggles that I’m able to suppress at first, but soon they start to burst through my lips, objecting to the silence. Before long, I’m emitting borderline-hysterical laughter, the kind that makes me feel like I might just pee my pants, and I have to bend over, hands on knees, to try to contain myself. I actually have to squat because I’m so afraid the force of my laughter is going to send me toppling to the floor anyway.

“Um, Dee?” I glance up at Milo, who is looking at me like I’ve just gone completely bonkers. And honestly, I sort of feel like I have. “Are you okay?”

“I—” I try to tell him I’m fine, but I can’t even get the words out between giggles.

“Is she okay?” Lydia asks, which somehow just sends me further into hysterical giggles.

“Seriously, Dee?” Milo squats next to me with all the patience of an orderly at a mental hospital.

I take some big gulps of air and try to let them out slowly, and I start to feel myself calming down—though a few stray giggles still sneak in. My cheeks are aching, more from trying to suppress the laughter than the actual hysterics. But I’m starting to get ahold of myself.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp. “It’s just that, this is all so insane, right? I mean, I’m with you”—I point at Milo—“and Lydia Kane is making out withBenny Orazi!” I point at Benny, who is still blushing so hard I’m surprised his cheeks haven’t caught fire. “I mean, we used to play freeze tag in the Parads’ backyard, and now look at us!”

Milo, Lydia, and Benny are all crowded around me now, looking at me like I’ve grown a second head. And then it starts. Milo cracks first, laughter sputtering out from between his pursed lips. Lydia goes next, a melodic and somewhat maniacal laugh coming from deep in her throat. And finally, red-faced Benny, who lets out the sort of geeky horse laugh that I remember from when I was twelve.

“You guys didn’t get into the helium tank, did you?”

We all wheel around to find Ruth standing at the end of the aisle, arms crossed and looking like we’ve completely lost our minds.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

I’m in Milo’s truck, turning onto the highway out of town. The wrap party is at a little Italian place downtown that Rob and the rest of production has rented out for the night. It’s known for its checkered tablecloths, cheesy garlic bread, and meatballs the size of your fist, so it’s hard to imagine it full of Hollywood people. But we’re not headed downtown.

“I figured we’d take a little drive,” he says, but there’s a glint in his eye that tells me he’s got something in mind. With the way he keeps his eyes on the road, it’s clear he’s definitely not going to tell me what it is.

Milo rolls down the windows, and I sink back into my seat, my feet up on the dash, and let the warm night air blow through my hair. Tonight I’m going to do it. I’m going to ask him what happens next. I have to. It’s my last chance. It’s like my mother always says:Nothing like a deadline to kick your butt into gear, right?

I spend the drive practicing what I want to say. Or, actually, trying to figure it out. When the truck turns onto a dirt road, I still don’t know. But it doesn’t matter, because I suddenly realize where we are. The trees line up in neat rows in either direction, tiny dots of light from fireflies dancing around their trunks. Then the canopy of live oaks appears, and then we’re pulling up in front of Westfell Grove.

The sun is starting to set, and those first fireflies are dancing around the trees in the early dusk. There was a brief storm about an hour ago, so everything smells earthy and damp. I lean my head out the window to take in a deep breath of the summer evening.

Milo puts the truck in park and climbs out, then hurries around to my side to open my door for me, since I’m too busy staring at the house to open it myself. I’ve never been here at night before. There’s a full moon tonight, bright as a streetlight. It’s sending the shadows of trees pulling along the front of the house in long, lazy angles. But something looks different. Out of place. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

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