Page 38 of The Actor: Harrison

I chuckle. “No, it’s not. Harrison asked me to go with him to a birthday party in Hollywood. I didn’t want to, but it was a good chance to make connections. Walking with him into a party is like opening every single door to producers and giving your number to people you wouldn’t even dream of.”

“You went with Harrison? I see.” She tries to hide a smug smile but fails.

I decide to pretend not to notice it and the implication of that knowing gaze. She’s clearly fishing for gossip and my lips are sealed. She became a friend filming this project, but I don’t want to put my personal life out there with someone I’ve known for barely a few months. I didn’t even tell Harper about it.And why not?

“Yes, and now Alan Leery has my number.” The smile on my face is so big it distracts her from every thought she had about Harrison and me.

“Shut up!” She gawks at me.

“Yes. He also texted to be sure I gave him the right number and I got his. I think we impressed him.” I beam.

“Impressed who?” Harrison’s voice startles me.

I turn around and find him handing Ellen and me cups of coffee. He looks a bit tired but he’s gorgeous anyway. How does he look so perfect every single damn time? My stomach clenches in a pleasant squeeze when he winks at me. I am so fucked.

“What are you doing here? You’re not schedule to shoot today,” I ask, puzzled.

He grabs a chair from a few feet away and puts it next to me, plopping down and giving me the side eye. “No, I’m not, and you didn’t tell me you were working today. I would have brought you home early last night,” he says in a half-joking, half-scolding tone.

I shrug. “It’s not like you forced me to stay up late. I can sleep in tomorrow morning.” I feel a bit guilty for not telling him. “But the question still stands. What are you doing here?”

“I saw some colleagues posting on social media from the set and found out you lied to me. So I decided to come here to keep you company and suffer with you, considering it’s my fault you look like you’re falling asleep on that chair,” he explains and I almost “aw” in response like a teenager.

I feel my cheeks warm up a bit and shake my head. “You should go home and relax. You have a tight schedule Monday.”

“Spending the Saturday on a deck chair by my swimming pool when I can be here with all my favorite people? Never!” He winks at me again and I almost squeal. Almost. I’m notthatdesperate after the kiss.

But I have to admit I’m a bit flattered that he’s here with me. I’m not delusional—I know he’s not hereforme, but I indulge the thought that he’s not totally disinterested about what happened last night between us. After months of working together, I know Harrison enough to think that he wouldn’t risk messing up an entire movie, or at least the friendly atmosphere on set, for a kiss. He doesn’t strike me as the careless type.

And this is why I’m freaking out. Why is he here and what does he want from us? Maybe heishere for me. Totalk. God, I hate these kind of interactions, and not dating for almost five years doesn’t help me in handling this game.

“You never told me who you impressed,” he asks, sipping his coffee.

“Alan texted me this morning to be sure I gave him the right number.” My smile is so big it almost hurts.

“Are you serious? I knew it! I freaking knew you had him wrapped around your finger!” He laughs like this is the best news ever. He seems genuinely happy for me.

“You have to take the credit. You were the one pushing him my way.”

He shakes his head. “It was team work. You worked the magic as much as I did.” He winks at me. Again. I almost squeal. Again.

Ellen clears her throat and I’m suddenly dragged back to reality. For a moment I forgot she was here and when I look at her, I feel my cheeks going up in flames of embarrassment at her smug smile. I blame my lack of sleep for my poor control over my emotions because I’m scared to admit that Harrison affects me in ways I shouldn’t be affected by a colleague. To be fair, I don’t randomly kiss colleagues, so this messes with my head.

It takes all my strength to straighten my spine, focus back on my job, and try not to think about the fact that Harrison is here, for no apparent reason, watching my every move while I try to act like his presence doesn’t affect me.

***

It’s a long day, filming and trying to get the best out of every take and, at some point, I forget Harrison is even here. I can see him in the background, following my every move with his eyes, but he doesn’t intervene, unless I’m the one speaking first to him. His discrete presence is somehow almost comforting.

It’s strange how he has something to say about almost every scene he’s in, but he never volunteers his opinion when it comes to other people’s scenes. I can see his face scrunching in puzzlement, sometime borderline disapproval, but he never offers his thoughts.

A couple of times I gave in to curiosity and asked for his opinion, and his response is always very supportive and diplomatic, but never downright negative.

“Why isn’t this freaking scene coming along?” I mutter under my breath.

Ellen is on set talking to a couple of extras and changing their position for what seems like the millionth time today.

“Are you okay?” Harrison asks with concern on his face.

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