Chapter Seven #3
And she certainly had not imagined Imogen while her lips were on Bridget’s.
For starters, that would have been impossible because the two kisses didn’t compare.
They weren’t even in the same realm of comparison.
Amelia had to admit, she and Bridget did have great acting chemistry, which meant that they were able to act their kiss very well.
Kisses. They had two more to do in later scenes.
But actual kissing chemistry? That kind of chemistry couldn’t be faked.
She and Imogen had it in spades. So, there was no way she could ever mistake kissing Bridget for kissing Imogen—not even if she tried to fool herself.
She did hope that she would get to experience some of that very real kissing chemistry again later. It was only eight more hours until Imogen was due to pick her up from her hotel, and to say Amelia couldn’t wait was an understatement. She checked the time about every five minutes.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Bridget said with a wave of her hand. “Then again, I suppose I’m enough of a fantasy myself.”
Amelia didn’t roll her eyes, but her tone sure implied it. “Yes, that must be what it is.”
“You’re very prickly lately. Trouble in paradise?” Bridget asked, her tone ironically sharp for the implication she was dishing out.
“You’re very interested in my love life,” Amelia replied in a bored tone.
“Not in the slightest,” Bridget replied like the very idea was unthinkable. “I’m only concerned about scandals that might affect the movie, and in turn, me. That’s probably why she’s with you, you know? The job. It happens to us actresses all the time, people dating us for our fame.”
“Yeah, well, we’re only getting to know each other and Imogen doesn’t know I’m famous, so…” Amelia closed her eyes and mentally kicked herself. She hadn’t meant to tell Bridget that. She hadn’t wanted to tell Bridget anything about herself, ever. So much for that plan.
“Of course she knows,” Bridget said disbelievingly.
Amelia sighed. She’d already put her foot in it, so she would have to keep talking now.
“No. She really doesn’t.” She walked over to the side of the room where she’d left the few belongings she’d brought to set, mainly to get away from the conversation.
Thank God they were filming inside today—the rain was pelting hard against the windowpanes.
Bridget followed her over. “You’re dating somebody who doesn’t know who you are? Why on earth would you do that?”
“Because it just happened, okay? She didn’t know, and like you said, people use us all the time, so I ran with it.” Amelia winced. “Only I’ve run with it a little too far I think.” A marathon of her own making.
“Why?” Bridget asked her with genuine bafflement. The reaction was strangely human for her.
“She hates celebrities,” Amelia mumbled.
Bridget scoffed. “Please. No one hates celebrities. They’re jealous of us or they want to be us. But they don’t hate us.”
Amelia lifted a shoulder. “Imogen does.” She wasn’t going to get into the reason why Imogen hated celebrities. She had already revealed way too much.
Bridget started to grin.
“What?” Amelia asked.
“You just got more interesting, that’s all. I was thinking you were incredibly boring all this time.”
“Thanks,” Amelia said on a laugh. It was a very Bridget-like compliment.
“Well, you’re like a closed book. You never share anything. I open up to you all the time and I might as well talk to that wall over there.”
Amelia’s head spun. When the hell did Bridget open up to her? When she complained about every little thing? When she criticized Amelia’s abilities and credentials? When she scrutinised her every move? Jeez, to Bridget maybe that was opening up. Huh. “You know about Imogen,” Amelia said.
“I overheard about Imogen,” Bridget corrected her.
A strange silence floated between them. Amelia felt like they were in some weird twilight zone, and she had no idea how to act there. Like she had let Bridget down somehow, which was bizarre.
“I’m seeing her tonight,” Amelia eventually blurted.
Because apparently, Bridget wanted her to share.
Of course, Bridget was probably fishing for ammunition to use against her, but Amelia had to admit that part of her had looked genuinely offended.
“I’m planning on telling her who I am then, so she’ll probably run a mile,” she added with a self-deprecating laugh.
“She probably will if she hates celebrities like you say. Probably for the best. This life isn’t for the weak.
” Bridget flicked her hair over her shoulder.
“Hopefully you’ll be able to focus more now that you’ve got that out.
See, isn’t sharing great? I should be a therapist.” She flashed Amelia a cocksure smile and strutted back over to her cue on the set, where the crew was beginning to reconvene.
That was it? Amelia felt like screaming. She’d fallen straight into that trap and shown Bridget her weakness. For a minute, she had thought Bridget genuinely gave a damn about something other than herself, but Amelia was a fool. Touché, Bridget. You got me.
With a huff, she looked down at her phone and instantly felt better because there was a message from Imogen waiting.
They’d been in touch all week, mostly via text.
Talking about their days—to an extent. Discussing what was happening in the world, both good and bad—a great way to discover if they were on the same page about things, which, so far, they were.
Imogen updated her on all things Wishing Well—and Amelia was delighted that things were looking up.
And they found out snippets of information about one another through their conversations too.
Nothing too personal—just things. For instance, Imogen loved to swim, but she preferred the ocean over the pool, despite the cold.
She made spaghetti Bolognese every Monday night for her and her friends—they took turns cooking.
They used to have dinner together a lot, though with the bar, now they usually ate late and in shifts.
Imogen started her day with a coffee and finished it with a tea.
She was a creature of habit, that’s for sure.
Amelia liked that about her. Imogen knew what she liked and stuck to it.
Amelia had to hope that Imogen liked her enough to stick too.
She couldn’t worry about that now. She shot off a quick text telling Imogen that she was excited about seeing her later, then marched back over to her cue. If Bridget thought she needed to focus more, Amelia was going to show her just how damn good she was.