Page 5 of Best Friends for Never

“Thanks,” I mutter, exhaustion setting in as I head toward my trailer.

Holy shit. What a day so far.

I’ve been up since 3:00 a.m., it’s nearing 6:00 p.m., and we still have two more scenes to get through today, so we won’t be done until at least eleven. And that’sifwe manage not to screw anything up and get through them quickly.

As I walk through the set and out toward the lot, a few people call out, telling me how amazing that was or that I made the scene better.

It’s a relief. I thought for sure David was going to blow a fuse and come unhinged on me—hell, I still can’t believe he didn’t—so it feels good knowing it worked for everyone, our own built-in test audience included.

I climb the steps to my trailer, letting the door slam behind me, then flop down onto the couch, where I plan to spend my entire dinner break in a deep, deep sleep.

My body sags against the sofa, which is easily the most uncomfortable piece of furniture in the world, but right now, it feels like heaven, and my eyes grow heavier by the second.

Fuck, this feels nice. So nice. Too nice.

I’m nearly asleep when a shrill sound pierces the air.

I peel my eyes open, glaring at my phone on the counter. Most people are attached to them, even on set, but not me. I always leave it in my trailer, tucked away so that I can focus solely on shooting.

I sit forward, able to grab my phone off the counter with my movement because the trailer is so tiny compared with how tall I am, then settle back into my original spot.

Unsurprisingly, my screen is filled with notifications. Emails, texts, missed calls, and social media shit I really could not care less about.

I swipe everything away, ignoring it all, not just because I don’twantto deal with it but because I’m too fuckingtiredto deal with it, then set an alarm so they don’t have to pound on my door repeatedly to get me up.

I’m nearly asleep when the damn thing goes off again, and I snatch it back up, glaring down at whoever interrupted the short amount of time I get to myself.

My assistant.

I click on his name, and our text thread fills my screen.

Vince:As requested, the first-class flight to Seattle is booked for Thursday at 12:20 p.m. Car pickup is scheduled.

Vince:Okay, turning off my professionalism for a moment...

Vince:Fucking wild you have to fly, then drive three hours to that little town you call home. Small town life is weird.

I’m suddenly very awake.

Not because of Vince’s lack of professionalism, which I admire about the guy, but because this is all becoming too real.

Bridget was wrong about pulling from experience.

I didn’t break a single heart in my day.

Everything I just said? All that shit about wanting to be chosen? About waiting? About wanting?

It’s what I wish I would have said to my former best friend before I did just what my character promised—disappeared from her life for good.

Until now.

Chapter Two

Parker

“Are you sure you ordered the right one?”

“I’m positive I pointed to green, Parker.”

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