Page 28 of This Time It's Real
“So where exactly have you visited?”
I blink. “Huh?”
“Around Beijing. For fun.” His eyebrows shoot up at my lost expression. “Wait, don’t tell me you haven’t beenanywherein all your time here. You’ve been back for what, like, two months already?”
Four months, actually.But that wouldn’t help my case, so I don’t correct him.
“It’s not like I’m a tourist,” I grumble, hitching my bag higher up my shoulder. “Am I supposed to go visit the Great Wall or something?”
“No,” he says. “But there are plenty of places besides the Great Wall—and better than the Great Wall too. No offense to Qin Shi Huang. You know, snack stalls, shopping malls, Wangfujing . . .”
“I’ve been busy,” I protest, my voice taking on a defensive edge. “And my parents have been working practically every day since we got here and . . .”
“What if I took you?”
Caz says this so casually that I’m unsure if I’ve misheard him.
He must catch the look of disbelief on my face, because he slows his steps and explains, “I’ve actually been thinking about it. And you raised a pretty fair point the other day.”
This time, I’mcertainI’ve misheard him. I slow down too. “Are you . . . are you admitting I’m right?”
“Not about the strict scheduling,” he says with a decisive jerk of his head. “But about you hitting me when I attempted to hold your hand.”
I suppress the urge to cringe. “We, um, really don’t need to revisit that—”
“No, but we do. Nobody’s going to believe we’re together if you act like I’m about to kidnap you each time I make a move.”
“Have you considered . . .notmaking any moves?” But as soon as I say it, I can hear how naive I sound. How inexperienced. Most of the couples at our school can barely keep their hands off each other. “Fine,” I mutter hastily, before he can jump at the opportunity to tease me. “So what are you suggesting?”
“Chemistry training,” he says, like this is a real term used by real people.
“Chemistry—what?”
“I’ve done it with all my co-actors. It’s basically a series of activities we do together to get comfortable with each other fast; it helps build chemistry and make our interactions look more natural on-screen. Plus, we’ll need to learn each other’s backstories so we don’t get caught for not knowing something obvious.”
I pause. Ihavevaguely heard of something like that before. Still, my voice comes out wary. “What . . . kind of activities?”
“Depends.” He shrugs. “Sometimes we’ll hang out at the mall, or do a couple’s photo shoot, or go on a private spa retreat for a weekend. Obviously the two of us won’t have the same resources and flexibility, but I could show you around Beijing. And you need more material for your blog thing anyway, right?”
“Right,” I say slowly, coming to a complete standstill in the shade of a wide oak, as if thinking and walking are mutually exclusive activities. “Right. That sounds . . . I mean, no offense, but that sounds like we’d be spending a lot of time together outside school. Is there really no quicker way to do the chemistry-building thing—”
Without looking at me, he says, “Sometimes the directors will throw us into a small, dark room and get us to make out for ten minutes. We’re usually pretty familiar with each other after that.”
Despite the shade, I feel the sun’s heat all over my cheeks. “Okay, trips around Beijing it is,” I say quickly, and I swear I see the twitch of his lips. Because of course he’s delighting in my discomfort.
I duck my reddened face from view and focus on my phone. Seconds later, Caz’s notifications dings.
“Invitation from Eliza Lin: New calendar event,”he reads out loud from his screen, eyebrows raised.“Chemistry training at five p.m. every Saturday.”Then, in the same breath, he says, “Yeah, that’s not going to work.”
“Excuse me?”
“This schedule isn’t going to work,” he repeats simply, and starts walking again, one hand in his pocket, weaving past the passing family bikes and cotton candy vendors with infuriating grace.
I have to run to catch up. “What? Why?”
“I know you don’t have much experience with the entertainment industry, Eliza,” he says, with enough arrogance that I have to physically grit my teeth to restrain myself, “but I am—as they say—booked and busy.I’ll probably be shooting or on the road for half these times. Unless you want to wrestle my manager for control over my schedule.”
I chew my tongue and walk faster. “Okay. Okay, that’s fair. I get it. Then how about this—we’ll make it this timefor now, but if something comes up, you just give me a forty-eight-hour notice and we’ll reschedule.”
