Page 44 of The Likelihood Of You

She was good. A bit of good old-fashioned flattery to avoid talking about the inevitable: it’s a classic move. Too bad I wasn’t going to fall for it.

“Are you okay?” I stepped closer to her, my hands searching for hers and gripping them lightly. “You seemed sad earlier.”

The only reaction that came from her was the delicate squeeze of her hands in mine, sending tiny lightning bolts through my fingers. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just… migraines. I forgot to pack the good medicine I use back home.” She said in a rush.

“Promise?” I asked, dipping my head to catch her eyes.

Unsurprisingly, she nodded before slipping one of her hands away from my touch and dragging a finger over her heart in the shape of an X. I guess that was our thing now. But unlike when I did it, I knew she wasn’t telling the truth.

She left straight after that, and I didn’t sleep a wink that night.

Whatever we had between us was now plagued by silence and friendly nods when we passed by each other on set. My lunch breaks weren’t full of her voice anymore, and I hated the silence.

I couldn’t help but wonder whether it was my fault. That the kiss, the one I couldn’t shake from my memory, had scared her like I thought it would.

There were a few casual words shared since that Monday. Little things like when she had to call me to set or when the lunch orders came round and she was delivering mine; apart from those brief moments, she hasn’t so much as looked at me.

The longest we’ve spoken was this morning.

“Production told me to pass these on to you, just some line changes, I think.”

Because she was in my presence for longer than a few seconds, I allowed my eyes to hover over her features, catching up on the time I hadn’t spent admiring them. Her cheeks were the same rosy shade as her lips, probably from the cold outside after just getting in. The freckles I adore had become more sparse from the lack of sun, but they still ghosted her face. Her big green eyes had gained some of theirsparkle back since the last time I looked into them, and that made me happy.

There was so much I wanted to ask her at that moment: whether she was okay, if I’d gone too far that night at Pin’s, if she regretted it, even what she’d had for breakfast.

All I managed was a pathetic smile and a thank you.

“Cut!” Wes’ voice drags me away from my thoughts. Seeing Addy finishing one of her final scenes made me realise how long I’d been standing there, daydreaming.

I shook my head before turning away from the set to make a beeline toward the snack table.

The image of me hitting the snooze button eight times and the rumble from my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten anything since the night before, and the endless trays of freshly made subs and sandwiches were calling my name. I avoided the pastries… for obvious reasons.

As I went to grab what I’d considered the best sub on the tray, I noticed one of the other assistants making headway toward me. “Hey Jacob, the producers just gave me a list of people they don’t need for the rest of the day, and you’re on there. So you can head out whenever.”

Well, that was music to my ears.

I was planning on sneaking out early anyway. One of my Moms was in town for a meeting with the manager of the New York Pins, so she wanted to catch me at some point in the day. This sacred extra time meant I could go and grab Bagel and bring her with me.

“Thanks for letting me know.” I gave the guy a small smile before heading to my dressing room.

I threw my shit into my backpack like I was being timed, out of fear that Wes might change his mind and decide to keep me, but like my spidey senses were tingling, I turned around to find Nate, who had snuck in behind me.

“What’s up, man?” I said, throwing my stuffed bag on the armchair. He looked pale, but equally red with frustration at the same time. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”

He really did. But he didn’t say anything to disprove my judgement, just stared at me like a seasick robot, so I reached over to grab the garbage can under the dressing table and placed it in front of him. “Just in case.”

“No, no, I’m good.” He mumbled. His face didn’t budge from that nauseous look.

“So… are you gonna tell me what’s up or—”

“Have you seen this shit?” He asked, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and aggressively typing something.

“What are you talking about—”

He passed me his phone, or shoved it into my hands more like. My eyes adjusted to the screen, the words plastered on the headline of the article slowly sinking in.

I had to question whether my heart was still in my body from how quickly it sank when I caught her name woven into the title, and slowly, the realisation of what it said hit me.

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