Page 24 of Enemies Off Camera
The tension thickens. The air shifts. Something warm and heavy pulses between us. Something neither of us is ready to name.
He licks his bottom lip slowly, draws it into his mouth, and I swear I feel it in every cell of my body.
Then—knock knock knock.
“Jaxon, we gotta go!” a voice calls from the hallway.
Jaxon steps back. Shakes his head. Turns his back on me.
And just like that, it’s over.
Once the door clicks shut, I stagger back until my fingers find the edge of my vanity stool. I sink onto it, dazed.
“What the hell wasthat?” I whisper.
I shake my head.Let it go. Let it go.
I cannot be hot for the likes of Jaxon Wilde.
Not now.
Not ever.
SIXTEEN
2 Months Later
When I first got my script in hand, I walked through my house clutching the freshly bound pages, sniffing the crisp paper, and hugging them against my chest. It felt so good to be back at work. I’ve memorized all my lines—and all my co-stars’ too. I’m so ready, it’s ridiculous.
It’s nighttime. I stand in front of my sliding glass doors, feeling dwarfed by the size of them. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe this is my home. That I bought it myself.
My beginnings weren’t just humble—they were distressing. I study the reflection staring back at me. Her eyes are solid. Mouth relaxed. She’s real. I could pinch myself and feel it.
My gaze moves past the glass to the pool outside, the aqua blue water flickering with the wind. I’ve made it. I have a home I love. A swimming pool. A career. I used to fantasize about this life—and now, I’m living it.
Script in hand, lines ready to be performed, I pause and ask myself:How do I feel about me?
Before I can answer, my phone rings, announcing Anne Park.
I rush to my desk, grab my device, and swipe to answer. Anne only calls at this hour when it’s something work-related.
“Hey. Are you ready for tomorrow?” she asks.
I stiffen.Tomorrow?“Um…” I rush to my desktop computer and open the calendar app. I can’t believe I missed something so important that Anne would call and remind me. At some point, I really need to hire an assistant.
“You don’t remember?” she asks.
The date block is empty. But I click on it anyway, just in case. “If production’s starting tomorrow instead of in two weeks, I’m still good. I know my?—”
“No. That’s not what you’ve forgotten, Zara.”
Her voice makes me go still. Alert.
“Then, whathaveI forgotten?” I ask, pulse beginning to race.
SEVENTEEN
JAXON WILDE
