Chapter 19
nineteen
. . .
Sophia
It's been a week since Grant trapped me in the bathroom at Casa Vega, demanding to know who Brandon was, and two weeks since the almost maybe kinda kiss where he flat out rejected me.
I thought for sure he was going to kiss me in the bathroom or maybe lift me onto the countertop and take me right there.
That might also be my wish-fulfillment fantasy.
I guess I'm grateful he's staying professional and doing his best not to make it awkward.
Our schedules are hectic, but he pops by the guest house most mornings to leave me a coffee, and I've visited him at his office for production updates and to review script changes. I imagine it's a good example of what it might be like to date him in real life—a whisper of moments here and there.
I will admit that it's been nice not to feel any pressure to give more than this right now.
I like how we both understand that our work is important, and I've loved spending time with Hazel and him, getting to know them both better.
I tried dating a "normal" guy after Connor, but when I had to leave for a six-week shoot in New York City, he confessed he couldn't do long distance and broke up with me. Six weeks apart was too much for him.
That's why it's so hard to date. People who aren't in the industry don't get it.
They don't understand the hustle and sacrifices you make to pursue your passion.
They don't understand that you've already sacrificed so much to get to your level, that the relentless pace and focus are just part of your DNA now. It doesn't feel unusual.
But dating within the industry isn't much easier.
It's a catch-22. On the one hand, they get the long hours, the last-minute schedule changes, and the way a project can consume you entirely.
But on the other, that means you're both always running, always chasing the next opportunity—two people constantly in motion, rarely in the same place at the same time.
And if you're not careful, work becomes the only thing you have in common.
I think that's why being around Grant has felt easy. He gets it. And maybe that's all this is. He understands the life, and I'm confusing feelings with his understanding.
I can't shake how similar this feels to what it was like with Connor, though—low pressure, fun, supportive—which, in hindsight, makes sense since everything with him was a complete set-up and arrangement, unbeknownst to me.
I'm an actress—a damn good one, too—so nobody knew how much Connor hurt me.
Not even him. When our show wrapped and he shook my hand—that's right, shook.
My. Hand—and said it was a pleasure working with me and thanks for the relationship, I wanted to melt into any substance that would allow me to disappear within seconds.
We had just cut the cake, and the wrap party had been a hilarious trip down memory lane.
His actions caught me so off guard that I was still laughing.
Yes, laughing. And then I kept the frozen smile on my face as I processed the confusion, the realization that it had all been a setup.
I replayed so many things that started to click and make so much more sense. I hate thinking about it even now.
This is different, I tell myself. This is just a friendship, a connection built on mutual understanding. There's no arrangement, no hidden terms, no expiration date looming overhead. And most importantly, I will not be blindsided by any of it.
"Sophia! Wait up!"
I turn and see Jess Lexington running across the lot toward me, her blonde ponytail bouncing, her blue eyes smiling at me. I like Jess. She's Blair's best friend from college, and over the past year, I've come to enjoy her abrasive and over-the-top directness. I just don't trust her.
She currently hosts On the Red Carpet, the go-to podcast for the entertainment industry.
She was a reporter for Deadline, Variety, and The Hollywood Reporter—all the places entertainment reporters, well, report.
She went out on her own last year, and the pod and subsequent newsletter Substack have taken off.
She's never done me wrong, and honestly, she seems pretty reputable, but I've been in Blair's office when she's unloaded the latest gossip. She knows everything about everyone in this town. It's a little scary. What I’m never sure of is whether she considers something on or off the record.
"Hey, Jess! What brings you to the lot today?"
"Podcast record with the cast of Pink Slip."
"Oh, I love that show so much!"
"You're welcome to sit in if you want?"
"I wish. We have a full shoot day here."
Jess follows me into the sound stage and marvels at the set we've built of the main character’s home.
I'll never tire of the magic of Hollywood.
The way our set designers bring things to life, the props that help define the tone and timeframe of the film and bring authenticity to it all.
Even the lighting is positioned through the fake windows to represent where the sun might be at that exact time of day for that scene.
"So, Grant's house, yeah?"
And here we go. But again, I'm not sure if this is reporter Jess or friend Jess.
"Yes, he really came in clutch for me. My house is a disaster. I can't believe a leak behind a tub spout could cause that much damage."
I use my media skills to try and divert the conversation to the chaos that is my poor, sweet home. It's coming along. After a few weeks, the crew has finally finished gutting everything, and the repair and rebuild is underway.
"I bet. I'm curious how long you'll stay?"
She's relentless; I can see it all over her face. Her eyes are lit up like she's about to open the first present on Christmas. I hate this part. Grant and I are just friends.
"He's been very generous to let me stay as long as I need. I think he feels sorry for me."
"Hm."
Here's where I need to lean in and shut it down. Her skepticism is at an all-time high.
"Oh, come on. Would you want to stay with Blair and Wyatt right now? And I'm not driving from my parents' house in Santa Barbara. Grant has been great and supportive throughout this entire process. And our schedules are so packed, it's like I'm not even there."
"Here's what I know for sure," she says as she lifts her hand and raises her fingers to count down the evidence she thinks she has.
"He invited you to his Hamptons party when Blair, who has always been a good friend of his, has never attended—until he invited you.
He picked you up for Tangerine Talent opening—"
"He did not pick me up," I tell her, my voice clipped. "We were both here at the lot, and you know it's murder to park down there. We just carpooled."
My interjection does nothing to slow her down.
"He was on set for the table read."
How does she know that?
"He introduced you to Hazel."
"We were at the Oscars," I reply, folding my arms across my chest. "We were walking the red carpet together when she came up to greet him at the end. I don't think he had a choice in that."
She ignores me again.
"He's apparently driving you out to Santa Clarita for hikes in the mountains," Jess says, her eyes narrowing like she's just presented her final piece of evidence in a courtroom.
I roll my eyes and turn to walk toward the staging area behind the set, but she follows.
"And he's offering his guest house to you. As far as I can tell, nobody's even been to Grant's house, much less stayed in his guest house."
I stop. My pulse ticks in my jaw as I slowly turn to face her.
"Jess, I know you're besties with Blair, but that doesn't give you an all-access pass to my life." I cross my arms, and my nails dig lightly into my forearms as I let my words settle between us. "I can appreciate that you're curious, but there's a line, and you're trampling over it."
Jess blinks but doesn't back down.
"Living in Grant's guest house is a practical solution to a problem, not a romantic getaway," I continue, my voice firm. "And honestly? That you think you have the right to pry into my life like this is pretty damn bold."
I ignore the flicker of amusement in her eyes and sort through the stacks on the table, looking for today's shoot schedule.
My face remains neutral, but something in my gut twists with satisfaction at the flicker of resignation I spot on Jess's face.
It's not that I owe her—or anyone—an explanation.
But there's something about the way she's digging, like she knows something I haven't even let myself consider.
My logical brain tells me this thing with Grant can't work.
But I've grown up in a world of make-believe, and sometimes, it's easy to imagine a different ending just for a moment, a happily ever after that isn't part of a script.
One that's real. But I also know better.
Real life doesn't work like that. Not for someone like me.
I force my gaze back to Jess, leveling her with a look. "So, he's nice to me. Did you ever think maybe it's to his benefit to keep me close? I'm a sought-after actress who brings in the box office numbers. Maybe that's all it is."
Jess studies me for a long beat, and for once, she doesn't have a comeback.
"Fair point." She grabs a donut off the opposite table and shoves it in her mouth. "Hey, I'm not after a story here. I'm just nosey. And you and Grant are two of my favorite people. I'd love it if there were some kind of love connection happening."
She licks her fingers before she pulls out her phone—to check for any missed messages, I'm assuming. I guess the interrogation is over.
"Besides, if anything were happening, I would've gotten it out of Lucas already. He's terrible with secrets."
Note to self: tell Grant not to tell Lucas anything.
"Well, thanks. I appreciate that. And I'm happy to share all the love that's happening with this movie. I can't believe how well it's turning out. We're on time and on budget. When does that ever happen?"
I take Jess on a tour, and she visits with some actors already on set. I know she'll mention this as an unofficial visit on her podcast, so I want to make sure I'm pointing out all the elements that will tease her audience without spoiling the plot for everyone.
Just when I think I've shut down and escaped Jess's obsession with Grant and me, we run into him on the way out of the sound stage.
"Hey, Soph. Hey, Jess," he says.
"Hey, Grant! What brings you out to the set today?" Jess asks with way too much glee on her face, and she's probably getting whiplash from the back-and-forth her head is doing as she looks from one of us to the other.
"Oh, I just wanted to connect with Sophia on a few budget items."
"Right. Well, I better head back to the office. I'll leave you two to figure out how you're going to make all the big things fit."
She's shameless, and she giggles at her terrible joke as she walks away.
"What was that about?"
"Nothing," I say and then redirect quickly. "I hope you have good news about the budget."
"Good and bad. You have time now?"
"I don't. I'm about to start shooting. It's a full day. I can swing by after dinner if you don't mind if I interrupt your home life with work stuff?”
"Not at all. Swing by once you get home."
Home. I don't even think he realizes that he's said it—like it's our home and we're living there together.
"Will do."
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and lifts it to his ear, giving me a wave as he walks across the lot back toward his office.
I head back to the set, ready to channel this unrequited crush into my next scene. At least someone will benefit from all of these feelings.