Production Start
George
“That’s it, I’m leaving!”
We rarely heard Alastair raise his voice, but today things seemed to have finally got to him.
No surprise because not only had Justine walked out, her radio and iPad having been thrown onto the floor of our newly assigned set production office, followed by an almighty crash and accompanied by dramatic sighs from the rest of us.
And now Alastair was shouting, his hands shaking to the point that when he tried to adjust his not-so-subtle hairpiece, he just made it worse.
Shoulders, eyebrows, fists…even his hair on edge.
That immaculate suit buttoned up wrong, and he was once again trying to spit words out as Kirsten laughed nervously.
She was never nervous. Yet today, she was.
“Oh calm down, Alastair.” A small knowing smile. “Legal has got all the resources to sign the new amendments. We have everyone by the balls. Nothing we do now can come back to bite us in the bum.”
She giggled like a schoolgirl. It didn’t suit her, and nor did it do anything to calm our nerves.
We had the script down. We had a schedule. We had an iron-tight plan for how this was going to play out.
“I have one final change.” She looked smug. Totally smug, which never did bode well.
“And this change is?” I said, tapping my pen nervously against my tablet.
Oh for fuck’s sake, Kirsten.
“If you go through with this, I’m walking. I won’t stand behind this nonsense.” Alastair looked serious as well, and me for one? I was rather impressed by him actually taking a stand. He never did. Ever.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, Alastair.” Another smug glance sweeping the table.
“So?” I questioned, hoping the nerves in my voice didn’t show.
We had just a few hours. Less than that, actually.
We had the first of the contestants arriving tomorrow.
And I hadn’t eaten a full meal in what seemed like forever.
Not slept properly in a month. I was dying here, we all were, and we just needed to lock this down.
Know what we were actually supposed to be dealing with.
“Well,” she said knowingly. “That is for me to know, and you to find out. George, I will see you in fifteen for the set walkthrough.”
Oh fuck. Fuck. Damn it.
And here we were. The script would go out the window for all I knew, and so did everyone else. Storm’s head hit the table with a heavy thud. Someone across the table looked like he was about to cry. Alastair? He walked out.
Thank God for that.
And Kirsten? She just chuckled. Then she stormed out, letting the door slam shut behind her. It still had plastic on the handle, a strip of it rattling loudly against the metal doorframe.
Which was when I finally snapped. I groaned. I shouted out loud. Screeched.
Then I gathered myself up, adjusted my tie and spoke sternly.
“You heard the lady. Now get the fuck back to work.”
Okay. Sink or swim. Or perhaps not. What the fuck did I know?
I made it home just before midnight, a ridiculous time to try to start to wind down.
I needed to be back at the studio complex by six, really.
Eight as per the schedule, but there would never be enough time to get anything done.
Not like this. My tablet was still in my hand; I was still typing as I pushed the door open, the familiar hallway stench of fresh urine hitting me right in the face.
I needed to move to a better place. Get out of this absolute dump of a flat and move up in the world. Not that I could afford it. I had more loans to pay off, and a shitty starter wage that definitely didn’t allow me any extravagances.
The rush of air behind me should have startled me, but I’d seen his dump of a car parked in the road. I’d expected it. Maybe not this late, but…
“You’re so late.”
“First day in the studio. It was chaos.”
“Did it all go…okay?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
I could. Maybe I would have if it wasn’t for the giant lead ball sitting in my stomach.
We didn’t speak in the lift. Nor did he open his mouth before letting me open the door for him. Watch his back as he shuffled inside. Shoes off. Like a massive déjà vu.
“Drove down earlier, you know. In case.”
“Stupid. Everything is fine. You need to study. Uni is important.”
“Says the guy who didn’t go.”
“Arsehole.”
I took my glasses off so I could get out of my cheap tie. Shirt. The lot.
Perhaps it was just me retaliating. Making him see what an idiot he was. He’d kissed me? ME? Stupid ugly bloody me?
I wasn’t kidding because I was not an oil painting. My skin was full of the craters of youth. My nose too big. My face… My eyesight was ridiculous. I couldn’t even make out the shape of him from where I was jumping around trying to dump my trousers.
I needed sleep.
I did NOT need this.
I needed this like I needed to breathe. Him.
“I know I behaved like a dick last time,” was his opening line from the other side of the bed, where he was fiddling with his belt. Taking off his socks.
“You are a dick.”
“Childish, Georgie.”
“Nope,” I breathed out, turning my back to him and making my way to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth. Vigorously. Cleaned my glasses that were all smudged from the day. Put them back onto my stupid nose.
Hair. Messy.
Me? Still me. Nothing I could do to change that. Anyway, he’d apologise for that massive error of judgement and tell me something stupid, and then he would leave me. Again.
The breath I took was deep and dizzying. But I took it. Stepped back into the hallway and made it to the bed. Put the phone on charge. Tablet on charge. Alarm on.
Like this was normal. Like I hadn’t clocked him in the dull light, lying there under the covers.
“I’m sleeping here. Can’t be bothered to go home. I was out there for three hours, hoping you’d actually stop working and come home.”
“You could have texted me.” I sounded sad. It was a sad state of affairs that I did.
“I did. A few times. I knew you’d be busy. I don’t mind.”
“I’m here now.”
How easily I slipped into this. Being everything he needed. We hadn’t talked about it, over text. Just skirted over the obvious and gone straight back to normal. Memes. Jokes. Him telling me things. Me stating the obvious in a spluttering of emojis.
“I’m not going to apologise,” he whispered. “Because I’m not sorry. Not for what I did.”
“You just left,” I whispered. “Shitty on a grand scale.”
“I needed to process. You know what I’m like.”
“No excuse.” I was angry. I was also begging. I wasn’t proud of that.
“I just wanted to…see.”
“Your eyesight is just fine.”
“So salty.” He smiled, and then he moved closer. Dragged my body by the shoulder until I was flat up against him. My head on his biceps. His arm around my back. A hand gently resting on my hip.
His fingers against my bare skin. Under my T-shirt.
“Georgie,” he said. And another finger brushed over bone, higher up my arm. Cheek. My temple. Stroking a stray hair out of the way. “Is this okay?”
“What part?” Yes. I was still…salty. A little confused. This? This was new. A bit much. Too close.
“Me, touching…you.”
“You touch me, all the time.”
“Not like this, I don’t.”
I had to smile. Bloody hell. His fingers traced back down my hip. And yes. Did I like it? I liked it.
“You’re the only one…I want to do this with.” His whispered words were like pinpricks on my skin. They should have sounded romantic but instead filled me with anxiety.
“Bullshit,” came out of my mouth.
“Georgie,” he said, and now his fingers were back around my chin. His eyes back on mine. “Last time?”
“Yes.” Weak. So weak. Why did I let him manipulate me like this?
Because I loved him. So stupid. So…weird.
“Can I?” he asked. I had no idea what he was asking. But his lips were back on mine, and it was…
Terrifying. Wondrously so as he kissed me.
With care and tenderness. Again with too much tongue.
My mouth just hanging slack as he ate me up.
Every little part of my upper lip inside his mouth.
Sucking at me and then his tongue was back, licking my bottom lip and meeting my pathetic attempts to match his skill.
Then he rolled on top of me.
I might have screamed.
He stopped, his elbows on either side of my head.
I clamped my legs around his hips. Hard. Held him firm.
“Stay,” I demanded.
“I’m not a dog.” He laughed.
The sounds coming out of me were frustrating enough, but then he smiled and put his mouth on my neck. Sucked me gently, in small, heady kisses, leaving a wet trail down my shoulder. My legs holding him firm.
“What are you like?” I smiled when he finally let me breathe.
We were both tangled in the sheets. My foot stuck weirdly in a knot of cotton fabric. His chest… That hoodie of his pulled up under his skin from… Maybe I’d done it. Maybe he had.
The thing was. I was…hard. Like I could actually help myself with all of him quietly sliding up and down my body.
He didn’t need words. Neither did I. Just that delicious sound of his breaths against my skin.
My hand now on his side, exploring up and down.
Testing the waters. Trying to get in between us.
His hips raised just enough for me to do that. A trail of hair against the top of my hand. My fingers still on the move. Down. Please let me?
My poor briefs hid nothing, and I’d already made peace with the fact that he had me figured out. My head was a little dizzy from how frightened I was. Of everything this was. What was happening right now. His mouth back on mine, in those…kisses.
I’d been kissed, okay? But I’d been kissed by people who didn’t matter. People in clubs. People who’d kissed me as a joke. I knew that far too well.
I’d not been kissed…like this. This heady, this desperate, this warm.