Chapter 3
three
. . .
Sophia
I'm scarfing down the biggest plate of fries, making up for what I missed prepping to fit into my Oscars gown. It was worth it, but oh, how I've missed my salty friends.
The bustling lunchtime at The Front Yard is all cozy booths, soft jazz music, and the constant clink of silverware on china. Sunlight peeks through umbrellas shading the outdoor dining area, illuminating the pastel-colored walls and highlighting exactly how much I've already eaten.
I'm antsy, too. Tomorrow is the first day of filming for my new project, and my brain won't stop flitting between best-case scenarios—landing critical acclaim by lunch—and worst-case ones, like me face-planting in front of the entire crew.
"You ready for tomorrow?" Blair asks, reaching across to pluck a fry from my plate before I can stop her.
I fake a slap at her hand. "If you wanted fries, why didn't you order fries?"
She smirks, brushing salt off her fingertips. "I'm not like you. I can't eat whatever I want and maintain this girlish figure."
I roll my eyes. Blair is knockout gorgeous. She has the kind of body that belongs on posters boys pin to their bedroom walls. I shove my plate over to her, partly to share and partly so I won't keep mindlessly eating because of nerves.
"I'm just ready to get the first day over with," I say. "It's always awkward. No one really knows the cast-and-crew dynamics yet, but by day two, things feel normal."
"You're leading the day off, right?" Blair snags another fry.
"Actually, I asked Grant to say a few words first thing. I thought he might like to meet everyone, plus"—I lower my voice—"I could use a little visual credibility from the boss."
Blair stills and looks up at me right before she takes a sip of her iced tea. "Grant is coming? Tomorrow? In person?"
"Is that weird?" I ask, frowning. "What's the problem?"
She's sitting across the table from me, next to my brother. Wyatt glances at her, and they do that silent brow-wiggle communication I've seen a million times.
"Stop it," I say, pointing a fry at them. "I can see you two talking about me with your little wiggle-waggles. Spill. Am I missing something?"
Blair's cheeks color. "No, it's just that…Grant is involved but also busy. It's not unheard of for him to show up, but it's not the norm."
"It's great, though," Wyatt chimes in, leaning back in the booth. "He seemed kinda smitten with you at the Oscars. Maybe that's why he's dropping in."
"Wyatt," I groan, "he was with someone else that night, remember?"
Wyatt arches a brow. "The brunette?"
"What brunette?" Blair asks, with confusion across her face.
"Someone that was almost as excited to see Sophia as he was. She was a bit star-struck. Kept talking about you in The Great Alone, right?"
Blair snaps her fingers. "Hold on. Was her hair wavy, about this long?" She gestures under her chin, and I nod. "Looked like a nineties Sandra Bullock?"
"That's the one," I say. "She seemed really close to his daughter, too."
Blair leans back with a smug look on her face. "That was his sister."
My heart does a traitorous little flip. So, Grant wasn't there on a date after all. Maybe he was flirting with me. Heat warms my cheeks, and I distract myself by sipping from my straw.
"Oh, good to know."
"Hey," Wyatt says, "I was only teasing about him crushing on you. He's way too old for you. Please tell me you aren't interested in him." I can see the conflict of wanting me to be happy with the torture of wanting to keep me sheltered all over his face.
"I'm not."
"Why not?" Blair asks.
"Blair…" Wyatt says.
"I'll admit he's hot. And I have a crush on him in the most innocent 'it will never be a real thing or go anywhere' type of way. But I've learned my lesson with Hollywood men. Nope. No way. Not for me."
"Never say never," Blair says. She gives me a knowing wink, and I just shake my head like she's insane.
"Just because Connor was a dickweed, it doesn't mean everyone is," Wyatt says. "You know it wasn't even his idea."
"That's exactly my point. There was an entire team behind him, dreaming up our relationship. His PR people, producers, and lord knows who else. If it was just Connor, I might be able to chalk it up to one bad guy."
I still feel a flush of embarrassment whenever I think about it, and it's been three years since we broke up—or, more accurately, since I found out our eight-month relationship was basically a storyline.
Connor had been my co-star in the last season of Code Crusaders.
We spent countless hours together. We were the only two "kids" on set, and it was his first real acting gig.
I was the seasoned pro with a few shows under my belt.
At first, I thought we genuinely clicked.
I was the one showing him the ropes, introducing him to people, and falling for him.
Turns out, when you cuddle up next to a teen-network sweetheart, it's a fast track to bigger roles and media attention.
He got exactly what he wanted. As soon as the show ended, I learned the truth.
He'd never felt that way about me. It was all a carefully orchestrated step on the PR ladder, a plan I knew nothing about.
It stung worse than my very first heartbreak, and that one had been pretty bad, too—a fellow up-and-coming actor from a sitcom on the same network, he stole my v-card.
Back then, I chalked it up to being young, dumb, and starry-eyed.
That was mostly a pride thing. I'd believed him too easily, and I felt stupid later.
But Connor? That was real heartbreak. That's the wound that left me with trust issues and an instant no-thanks policy for dating in the industry.
"I'd be fine if you never dated again," Wyatt jokes, motioning for the check. Blair smacks his arm, and he laughs.
"Well, for now, I'm focused on this film," I say, straightening my back. "I've worked really hard to get here, and for the next few months, I won't even have time to think about anything else."
It's true, even if I sometimes wish things were different. I glance at the midday crowd standing in line by the hostess stand—a mix of well-dressed studio assistants grabbing takeout salads and older couples waiting for a seat. It's such a normal scene, yet my life feels anything but normal.
I watch as Wyatt helps Blair out of her seat and how she places her hands on his jaw before giving him a light peck on his lips.
His hands fall to the small of her back, and she tucks in closer to him as we walk out of the restaurant.
I know they'll have a lively conversation on the way home while he touches her thigh or she wraps her fingers through his.
It's simple, and some days, I crave those same moments, too.