Page 49 of The Actor: Harrison

I smile so hard my face hurts and I say nothing. Like a fifteen-year-old nerd who snatched the high school quarterback from the popular cheerleader, I feel like this is a dream.

“Oh, come on! Have a bit of compassion for a single woman,” Harper complains.

We turn around and I raise an eyebrow watching her half-pouting. She waves her hands toward us like that’s enough to explain.

“What?” I ask her.

“Seriously? How can I find a man if you set the bar so high? He’s all sweet and funny and hot. And he’s making breakfast. Shirtless. After he blew your mind with incredible sex. Don’t think I didn’t hear you trying to scream into your pillow.” She raises an eyebrow, challenging me to contradict her.

Harrison chuckles and I want to disappear. I hide my face in the crook of his shoulder and grin like a fool. I thought the pillow was enough to muffle the toe-curling orgasm that made my core explode like fireworks. Twice.

“So, eggs, bacon and English muffin. Is that good for you?” I don’t miss Harrison’s attempt to divert the attention from a topic that makes me uncomfortable.

As much as Harper is my best friend, I’m not someone who talks about her intimate life with someone else. I find it difficult even to talk with my doctor about it.

“English muffin? Where did you find those?” I raise my gaze to his.

“I made them,” he answers a bit shyly. Is he embarrassed?

“You made them? How?” My eyes are as wide as saucers.

He tries to downplay it. “You have the ingredients, I just put them together. Minus the milk, for obvious reasons. Not a big deal. I wasn’t sure you had yeast, but I found it.”

“We have yeast?” I ask Harper who shakes her head like she has no clue how he found it.

“Yes, in the cabinet next to the fridge.” He chuckles.

I go to where he’s pointing, open the door, and grab the box. I turn around. “Did you know that?” I ask Harper.

She shakes her head and giggles.

“I…I…I don’t even know what to say.” This is the first time I’ve found a man who can cook and actually do something more elaborate than boiling eggs. And I find it extremely attractive. Someone who doesn’t need to be fed like a toddler, and who can actually spoil me with a meal from time to time, is high on my list.

I’m a busy woman, most days the only time I have to make a meal is spent opening my phone and ordering delivery. Having a man who can actually cook something while I do my job is something I didn’t know I could even have.

I move my gaze to Harper and she’s looking at me with a smug smile, as if to say, “See? The complete package!”

I have to agree with her, Harrison is really the complete package and I don’t know how scared I should be about it.

Harrison drops me off in front of the studio and I take a deep breath before opening the door and marching toward the room where Nolan, the film editor, is working today. When I open the door, I find three pair of eyes staring at me. Christopher and Ellen look more grim than ever.

“Your text sounded like a funeral announcement. What’s happening?” I ask Nolan.

When I saw the message during breakfast saying I needed to come here ASAP because there was an emergency, all the happiness I’ve felt during these five days with Harrison dropped into my stomach and sent a sour taste into my mouth.

I dared to live in a bubble for five long days, where work crossed my mind a few times, but it wasn’t the center of my attention like it’s always been. I have the feeling this happiness has an expiration date and my heart sinks a bit. It was refreshing to not to think about work for longer than I ever have before. Scary, too—I’m not used to not working for so long—but relaxing. It gave me the chance to enjoy small things like waking up at almost noon, something I didn’t do even when I was in high school.

I tried the glamorous life and apparently it didn’t last long.

“We need to reshoot a bunch of scenes,” Nolan says with a firmness that dries my mouth.

I’m not even able to ask how many or why. I grab a chair and drop into it, taking a deep long breath. The silence that follows is unnerving. Not even Ellen with her normally positive attitude is saying anything to cheer me up. It must be bad.

“Can I see what you have?” I ask and he just nods, playing the chunk of the movie he edited and moving his chair aside to make space for me to see.

For twenty-four minutes, I stare at the screen in silence, taking in the mess unfolding in front of my eyes. It’s not ugly. Those twenty-four minutes are pretty great, actually, but I can clearly see at least three parts where the movie doesn’t work. It’s like that for a few minutes, changing the angle, so we’re watching what seems like a different movie. And you can clearly see it. There’s no way it could pass for an artistic choice we made.

I feel defeated and guilty. I should have stayed here instead of acting like a teenager with her first crush, even if I rationally know I couldn’t have done anything in this room while Nolan worked.

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