Chapter 2
Bryce
Eight years ago, I left New York with a heavy heart, carrying the weight of unresolved issues with my family and leaving behind the only person who truly understood me.
When I left home all those years ago, the plan was to never return. There is simply too much unresolved tension, and I’d rather not deal with it.
If my family doesn't support what I do, it's best to keep my distance. And that has worked well for me so far.
My life has been free from the shackles that used to hold me back, and I'm happy because I'm doing what I love without fear of judgment.
I wouldn't be back if my agent, Ellen, hadn't insisted that this movie project had the potential to take me to even greater heights, emphasizing the importance of giving it my absolute best.
I'm used to high-octane blockbusters, so this should be a breeze. I can't wait to be done so I can get out of here.
"This movie could be your chance for an Oscar, Bryce."
Sitting across from Ellen in her office, she's giving me a lecture, as usual, about how I should be on my best behavior. When am I not?
I try to concentrate, even though the huge blonde wig on her head is oddly distracting. I wonder why she would choose to put that on when she's got perfect black hair. Her body, her choice, I guess.
Ellen’s eyes sparkle with anticipation as if the golden statuette is within arm's reach, and I roll my eyes, a smirk playing on my lips.
"Come on, Ellen. I've got the skills. Awards will follow. No need for the pre-Oscar pep talk."
She laughs—a sound that carries the confidence of someone who's been managing my career for longer than I care to admit. I have her to thank for staying grounded. Without her, my career would be a wreckage courtesy of my short fuse.
"Alright, Mr. Modesty. But seriously, this film is your ticket to something different. Show them the range you've got."
I nod, understanding the stakes, but deep down, exploring the essence of my hometown on the big screen isn't something I'm exactly thrilled about.
"While you're here, you'll need an assistant. Someone to ensure that your business here is done smoothly and to assist with on-set logistics and scheduling."
"Yeah, you can take care of that."
"I could, but the company has given me a list."
"A list?"
"Well, you're a pretty big deal, and they would like you to have the best of everything."
As Ellen hands me a list of potential assistants, I scan through the names. My eyes stop at one—Marissa Hansley. My heart does a cartwheel as the memories flood back.
Whoever follows my social media will be aware of my return, Marissa included. I haven't seen her since the night when I left home in a hurry. She had said some pretty heavy things that I wasn't ready to deal with, so I just left without saying a word to her.
I felt afterward, beating myself up for just disappearing the way I did and shutting her out when she was the one person who made my messy life better.
Marissa always kept me sane. She was like the calm in my storm, and so many times, I wanted to reach out to her. But I could never summon the courage to do it. Not after leaving the way that I did.
Even though it's been years, a part of me hopes that she still remembers that night and all the other memories we shared.
"Marissa."
Her name slips out, softer and heavier with years gone by. I catch it too late. Ellen's eyebrow lifts.
"You sound like you've just discovered the lost city of Atlantis. Who's Marissa, and why does her name have you all sentimental?"
"I used to know someone by that name. Childhood ... friends."
Her eyes widen, and she throws her hands up in mock disbelief. "You actually remember people from your past? I must document this historic moment."
I chuckle. "I have a photographic memory, Ellen. Comes with the territory of being a movie star, you know."
She waves off my remark. "Whatever, superstar. Now, let's pick an assistant so you can get back to your award-winning journey."
I glance at the list again, my finger tracing the names until it lands on Marissa. "I choose her."
"Wait, what? Bryce Alston is picking an assistant? Is the world ending?"
I force a casual shrug, trying to bury the sudden rush of emotions.
"It's just a name. No big deal."
She smirks, not buying my devil-may-care act. "Oh, come on. I've seen you go through dozens of assistants without a second thought. This Marissa must have been special."
For a split second, I freeze, my poker face faltering ever so slightly and betraying my usually cool facade. "She is."
Ellen assures me that Marissa will be my assistant, and even though I conceal it like the pro that I am, I can't wait to see her after all this time. I wonder if she’ll recognize me. But then again, I'm hoping she's been following my movies.
After my meeting with Ellen, I head to the elevator so I could make it in time for my next meeting with the production crew.
The moment the doors slide open, my eyes widen as I step inside, and my attention is momentarily diverted from my phone.
There, standing a few feet away, is Marissa, looking as white as a sheet. My jaw drops, but disguising my feelings is kind of what I do for a living, so I'm quick to recover.
Memories from eight years ago surge back, filling the small space with a palpable awkwardness. I knew I was going to see her eventually, but I didn't think it would be this soon. Also, I didn't expect to be staring at the bombshell before me.
Marissa is a sight—like golden honey drizzling over a sundae. Her hair, a cascade of blonde curls that could make Cupid reconsider his aim, frame eyes that sparkled with innocence, the kind that ignites clandestine smiles and warmth.
Her blouse seems as though a playful spell has kissed it, blending professionalism with a dash of enchantment. Her eyes met mine, and for a beat, I’m convinced she holds the copyright to sunshine. Marissa possesses the kind of gaze that makes poets fumble for metaphors, and all I can muster is an internal "wow."
"Marissa," I manage to utter, bracing myself for the nostalgic rollercoaster.
"Br-Bryce? Is that really you?"
I nod, offering a faint smile. "Yeah, it's me."
She looks different—grown up in all the flattering ways possible. The girl I remember is now a woman, and the surprise on her face remains in place.
I bury my attention back into my phone. It's best to stay quiet and avoid a conversation altogether.
"It's so good to see you. What brings you back to town?" She takes the initiative, clearly unfazed by the awkward atmosphere.
I keep my responses curt, glancing up briefly. "Work. Got a film project here."
Marissa's eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. "No way! That's amazing. I had no clue you were back."
"Yeah, just touched down."
I hope she catches the hint as I return to my phone, but she's oblivious, shifting nervously.
"Oh, I work at the film production company upstairs."
Her words spill out in a nervous stream, but they fade to the background as I sneak furtive looks in her direction. Time has been kind—she's unexpectedly alluring now. I know I should say something, but my throat is dry.
Her once-curious eyes hold a new depth that draws me in. I also can't stop looking at the curve of her lips, admiring how succulent they are.
"Small world, huh?"
I offer a nonchalant nod, trying to downplay my interest. "Yeah, tiny."
Despite my efforts to keep it casual, Marissa's persistent, undeterred by my cool demeanor.
"I mean, it's been what, eight years since we last saw each other? Time really flies."
"Yeah, it does."
The guilt of disappearing without a word wraps around me like a too-tight jacket. Avoiding this kind of situation was definitely high on my to-do list.
"So, what have you been up to all these years? Any exciting Hollywood stories?"
I let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Just the usual stuff. Movies, premieres, the whole glamorous routine."
Her eyes twinkle, genuine curiosity flickering within them. "Wow, that sounds amazing. I always knew you'd make it big."
I give a tight-lipped smile. I used to share my dreams with her, and she would encourage me to take the plunge.
"Yeah, it's been a journey."
The elevator dings. It sounds like a rescue bell to my ears. I step out, relief washing over me as I distance myself from our intense exchange. But Marissa, apparently determined to keep the conversation alive, walks alongside me.
She continues to chatter animatedly, seemingly immune to my awkwardness. I try to keep my cool, but the sight of her after all these years has knocked me off balance, and I’m at a loss for words.
"I can't believe you're here. It's so surreal. So, how was life while you were away?"
"Yeah, it was good. Look, I gotta go. Maybe we could catch up later instead."
She suddenly stops, her smile falters for a moment, and she blinks rapidly as if trying to clear away an unwelcome thought. "Oh, of course. You've probably got a meeting. I don't want to keep you."
Offering her a curt nod, I turn on my heels, desperate to escape the awkwardness. The instant I step into the room where the meeting is supposed to take place, I exhale a sigh of relief.
Meeting with Marissa has left me with a mix of nostalgia and discomfort. She seemed genuinely happy to see me, despite how things ended between us. But if she was faking it, I hope she doesn't take it badly when she finds out she'll be my assistant for this movie project.