Page 12 of The Likelihood Of You

Fuck.

Before I get more distracted than I already am, I quickly flick my eyes back to hers and proceed to change the subject, my body eager to fall back into the comfort her conversations bring.

“How’s life in the city treating you?”

“Honestly,” she breathes out, “I thought I’d get in the taxi at the airport, drive through the city and have my ‘Holy crap, I’m in New York’ moment, but I got to my flat…apartment, sorry, and realised I’d double booked the place with a charming family of rats who had started eating the floorboards.” She ran her hands through her hair, too rough to be a casual tussle, before another subtle smile graced her lips. “So I think I’ve had the raw extended director’s cut of whatever movie I think I’m in.”

I know I should be paying attention to what she’s saying, and I am, but if her voice isn’t the most beautifully distracting thing, I don’t know what is.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. The first time I got to the city, my buddy Nate and I were approached by a man wearing a sombrero, and a Santa costume, while holding three hotdogs in his hand, and asked us if we wanted to buy them for $100 each. He followed us for eight blocks after we’d told him thanks, but no thanks. Trust me, it’s just the city’s ways of initiating you.”

She giggled. “That’s such a lie. You’re just trying to make me feel better about having the cast of Ratatouille living in my apartment.”

I let out a laugh. “Oh yeah?” I reach into my jacket pocket. “I still have one of them on me for emergencies if you—”

“Ew, no! Okay.” She chuckled sweetly. “I believe you!”

Her laugh echoed between us, and I couldn’t help but laugh too.

As they settled, a silence grew between us, but it was less on the awkward side and more like we were both taking in that we were talking to each other again. That easy feeling I’d felt before starts to trickle in, too. I stared at her for a moment longer, admiring how the now golden sun was beaming across her face and giving her an angelic glow, before breaking the silence.

“What brings you back to Pin’s at this time?”

“Oh,” Her smile falters as she runs her hands through her hair again. “I’ve just finished my daily wander around the city. I’m still looking for a job, and it’s getting to the point where I’ll literally take anything anyone has to offer.”

“Have you tried the BigAppleResumes website? They usually have some pretty decent job listings. They helped me out when I was new here.”

“Yeah, nothing but fast food sign holders and tourist information desk clerks, but if I don’t find anything soon, you’ll find me handing out maps in Times Square or holding an ugly arrow sign pointing toward the nearest Taco Bell.” She finishes her words with a smile, but there is nothing joyous about it.

It’s only then it comes to me. Before my mind can catch up with my mouth and I can remind myself about what happened the last time I decided to trust the seemingly innocent newbie, I ask this girl, “You know, the production company I’m working with is always in need ofassistants.” What am I doing? “If you’re struggling to find something, I can pass your name onto the company head if you’d like?”

Jacob, what the hell are you doing?

“Oh my god, really? Are you sure?” She beams, the expression on her face now as bright as the sun that’s bouncing off her.

I nod. “Absolutely.”

“Oh, wow. Thank you.” She releases a squeal. “Let me give you my number.”

She reaches into her corduroy bag, looking for her phone, I’m presuming, and her distraction allows me to reflect on what I just said to her.

There are almost never enough assistants on set, so Wes and his army of producers will no doubt say yes to another one. Which means seeing her nearly every day. Which isn’t bad, but if this girl has the power to make me immobile by just smiling at me, how the hell am I going to cope with being near her five days out of seven?

“Ready?”

I raise my eyes back to reach her gaze, and she looks like she did the first time I laid eyes on her. Standing there, holding her phone, with her gleaming eyes stuck on mine. At that moment, I contemplate taking back my offer, my mind doing reruns of the same questions.

What if she’s using you?

What if this is all an act?

You’ve seen this happen before. Darcie used you, and now she is too. It’s happening again.

What are you doing?

Butwith the way she’s looking at me, her eyes all wide and hopeful, I know I can’t take back what I said. She doesn’t need to say anything to let me know that this job is make or break for her.

“Let’s hear it,” I say, with equal parts reluctance and excitement.

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