Page 17 of The Likelihood Of You

You could be the biggest prick in the world, a prick with arguably a moustache too big for his face, let's say, and still fall victim to that smile and those eyes.

The first time Wes got annoyed and screamed at one of the production interns, she made a beeline straight for his director’s chair, innocently asked if he wanted one of the things she’s been handing out (pastries, I think) and after that… the day was bliss.

For the first time in forever, we finished before five. That doesn’t seem like a big deal, but compared to the lastDefendersmovie shoot, the sequel has been ten times harder. We’ve been on set for nearly ayear, and I can count on one hand how many times we’ve finished before the sun went down. The movie should have been in theatres by now, but thanks to casting issues and Wes making his toddler tantrums a matineeandevening performance, we were massively behind schedule. I’m sure it would’ve been a fine movie even without the changes, but here we are.

“Hey, you okay over there?”

Her delicate voice brought me back into the moment, and I wondered how she was able to sneak up on me when my eyes had been stuck to her all day. I shake my head almost playfully and let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, yeah, all fine. Just… long day. How did you find it?”

“It’s been good. I have a feeling the pain au choc’s may have helped.”I knew it.“I see what you meant about him being an absolute tosser.”

I feel my brows pull together. “Tosser?”

She shakes her head like she’s remembering something. “Shit, yeah, forgot you guys don’t use that here. It means asshole, basically. Or annoying, pretentious, slightly up your own arse…”

I nod. “Gotcha.”

Before we have a chance to even breathe, we hear a crash echo from behind Flo. I tilt my head to the side as she spins around to find Wes on the floor, along with his director’s chair, tearing up what looks like a script.

Seems his tantrums have returned for an encore.

“Are you fucking kidding me. We’re this close to finishing,” He shouts, whilst making a small gesture with his fingers. “And you think now is the best time to change the fucking ending!”

Florence turns on her heels to face me again, giving me a look that saystold you.

It looks like his happy forecast lasted a minute. Today was so close to being perfect, but the writers must have sensed that it wastooperfect.

I shuffle in place, my eyes roaming the set, and while the crew and a dozen of the assistants were laser-focused on Wes' tantrum, one set of eyes was on me, burning a hole through my head like they have been all day.

I could have been standing here with my eyes closed and would know it was Nate without a second thought.

To be honest, it wasn’t just Wes that nearly ruined the welcomed easiness of today. Not only has Charlie, my pain in the ass publicist that takes his jobs a little too seriously, been blowing up my phone, screaming at me about a recent interview I did where I may have said something I shouldn’t have about the plot forDefenders 2,but Nate has been giving me these weird looks all day.

Like he's doing now… and I know exactly why he’s been doing it.

He’s not spoken to me since he collared me this morning, after realising that I couldn’t take my eyes away from the girl carrying a million plastic tubs and a smile that spurred on the giddy feeling in my gut. When Florence walked away with Addy, he took a few intimidating steps toward me, to the point where his heavy breath was invading my face.

“Be careful, man. Remember how things turned out with Darcie.”

I knew his standoffishness was coming from a place of worry; he had a good reason to pry me away from her before any feelings got involved. Even though this is the third time I’ve seen her and the only time I’ve really spent time with her, he can still see that there’s something there.

Nate was there with me throughout my relationship with Darcie. He was there the night I met her. He was sitting on the couch with me when I called her and asked her out for the first time. And he was also there to pick up the pieces the night she left.

My eyes follow the direction of everyone else, away from Nate and his flame-thrower stare, as a million stills from that night flash through my mind like a silent movie, unearthing feelings I’d pushed aside, swallowed, and hadn’t touched in months. All for a good reason, too.

But just like how I got nervous when Florence was around, having Darcie race through my mind again triggered nothing but hatred.

The memory of her voice engulfed me, constricting me like a snake. The words she’d hissed at me slicking my ears with their deadly venom.

“I’m not in love with you, Jacob. I never was.”

The second she left my apartment, I swore to myself I wouldn’t date again. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I was scared to. I couldn’t risk it. Even if Florence was different, if I were to act on anything, there would always be that nagging voice in my head that would tell me she liked that light that shone on me, rather than the guy that was squirming under it.

And I don’t know if I’m ready for that voice to be the white noise I fall asleep to again.

I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at the back of her head, getting lost in the velvet ribbon that’s sitting so neatly there, but I’m glad she’s still facing in Wes’ direction. If she’d looked at my face for a split second, she would have read every thought that was rushing through my head.

As an actor, I have a habit of letting my emotions show; if there’s something on my mind, the world will know about it.

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