40. Grey
Chapter 40
Grey
V ivienne and I parted ways after our press tour—her flying to London for some modeling thing and me flying back to LA. I expected to feel jealous of Viv for getting to go to London, the place I call home, while I have to return to the devil’s overpriced armpit of California. But, somehow the jealousy never came. Instead, I felt excited to come back to LA, a sentence I never thought I’d say. I think I have to give Aspen credit for that, because no matter how hard I tried to focus on other things, I spent the entire plane ride thinking about Aspen and her old lady hobbies and her leash-trained cat.
The week after I landed was for my solo shots, but we were actually able to finish all of them in three and a half days, rather than the predicted five. So I got an unexpected long weekend that I spent thinking about Aspen, trying not to think about Aspen, and distracting myself for a few minutes through other tasks before my mind eventually found its way back to her and the cycle continued.
But, enough of me being pathetic. It’s finally Monday morning of our first week back together, and I’m walking onto the Golden Hour set—which today is an entire block of LA. I plan on going straight to Aspen’s trailer to ask how her break was, but Jack Mack intercepts me before I can even get close.
“Grey,” he says, jogging over to me. He has a huge pair of headphones around his neck and they bob in time with his steps comically.
“What’s up, Macky? Long time no see.”
“I know. I almost forgot how handsome you were, wow. Sorry, that was weird. Long weekends aren’t good for me. Anyway, I just wanted to check in and see if you have any questions about today’s scene. It’s pretty much the climax of the film, so I know there’s always some pressure around that.”
“I can see how filming a climax would be stressful for people,” I joke.
Jack’s face lights up in an impish grin. “I knew I wouldn’t have a problem with you. You’re a true professional. So, no questions then?”
“I guess I have one,” I say. It sort of feels like an interview where the interviewer asks if you have any questions and you look sorely underprepared if you say no, so I scramble to think of something. I buy myself a little time by summarizing the scene. “So, in this scene Declan walks into his magazine’s offices while Rosie waits in the car. He tells her he just has to drop something off to a friend, but Rosie’s no idiot. She knows it's a press office, so she decides to follow him in. She overhears him telling his boss that he actually didn’t find Rosie after all, but just a girl who looks a lot like her, named Skylar. That’s the fake name Rosie gave him, so it’s sort of a nod to him appreciating her as a person rather than just as a public figure.”
Jack nods. “Exactly.”
“Rosie’s heard enough, and goes back outside, speed-walking away from Declan, the office, and the car. When Declan comes outside after being fired and doesn’t see her in the car, he’s confused. He looks around and sees her walking about a block away. He runs to catch up to her and they have a big fight on a street corner, where Declan confesses his feelings and Rosie has to choose whether to forgive him or not, for spending all this time with her under false pretenses. My question is, does Declan genuinely feel like he should be forgiven?”
“Very insightful, great question. I think he does, because he ultimately made the right decision and never betrayed her, even though it got him fired. And his feelings for Rosie cloud his judgement so much that he wouldn’t care if he was the devil himself—he just wants her to forgive him so desperately.”
“Got it.”
“And because Rosie’s…” Jack continues, but my attention has been stolen by Aspen, who’s walking and talking across the set with a crew member.
She radiates beauty, dressed casually in a pair of hip-hugging jeans and an NYU sweatshirt. Even without the glamour of formal attire, there’s something so captivating about her presence, as evidenced by the heads turning in her wake. Personally, I prefer Aspen dressed down like this. She’s comfortable, at ease, and completely herself. Her movements are fluid and waterlike, graceful and unselfconscious. It’s a stark contrast to the poised but tense demeanor that she adopts in a ball gown, where the weight of others' stares seems to make her stiffen. Here, like this, she’s natural, unburdened, and mesmerizing.
“So, Declan knows he fucked up, but doesn’t view it as big of a deal as Rosie sees it.” Jack Mack continues talking to me.
Fuck, I must’ve completely zoned out watching Aspen. I’m just so excited to finally see her again today. Two weeks have never felt so much like a lifetime.
He drones on. “Of course, Rosie feels just as strongly for Declan as he feels for her, but she’s also battling these huge feelings of betrayal. There’s tons of cognitive dissonance for her right now, which is why she’s so frustrated and aloof in this scene, refusing to even talk him through her feelings.”
I nod, using my incredible acting talent to pretend I’ve been listening to him this entire time, not daydreaming about running my hands down my costar. I wonder if she’s wearing anything under that sweatshirt, or just a bra. Or not even that?
“Thanks, Jack,” I say as soon as I detect a break in his thoughts. “Do you mind if I go relay this to Aspen quickly? Maybe run some lines?”
“Go right ahead,” he says, waving me away. “I know better than to stand between two love birds.”
As I stride toward Aspen, I wonder briefly why Jack would say that, but then remember that we’ve been fake dating basically this entire film shoot. Even though he’s coming from the wrong logic, he still seemed to arrive at the right answer—this girl has me in the palm of her hand.
“Hey,” I greet her by the refreshments as she’s filling up a tea bagged cup with hot water.
She jumps at the sound of my voice, almost spilling boiling water on herself.
“Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” I apologize, grabbing a few napkins to wipe up the few drops that got on the table.
“Hi,” she says, finally looking up at me. God, I forgot how beautiful she was. No one should have eyes that blue, it’s just not fair.
“How was your break?” I continue.
“It was good. How was yours?”
“Mine was good too. Busy, though. I was just doing Bond press the entire time.”
She nods. “Nice.”
“You went home to New York, right?”
“Yeah, it was nice.”
“Good. Did someone in your family go to NYU?” I ask, trying a different angle to pierce through her clipped answers.
“No,” she answers confusedly before I point at her sweatshirt. “Oh, this? My dad gave the commencement speech there a few years ago and they gave us all sweatshirts. It’s surprisingly comfortable.”
“It looks like it,” I say awkwardly. Why the fuck is this so hard today?
“Anyway, Grey, I still have to get my makeup done. See you in a bit.”
“Oh—okay,” I stammer. “Do you want to run some lines after that? We still have a while before we’re due to start officially rehearsing.”
“Sorry, I was planning on calling my mom.”
“No problem. Maybe another time.”
“Yeah.” She gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes before she walks off.
That was weird. She hasn’t started up with another guy these past two weeks, has she? Maybe that football-player guy, Hudson something? I shake my head, trying not to overthink things. There’s no one else, she would have told me, or at least not let me get her off in public a few weeks ago. She’s just busy, she’s the lead of the film.
The rest of the week is the same. Aspen is distant and doesn’t give me many opportunities to talk with her. The few that we have are awkward and stilted, not anything like before. I keep wondering what’s changed, but I can’t think of anything. How could two weeks apart put such a wedge between us?