The Film Crew (Ryder Twins #2)

Prologue - I Found It!

Carly

New Year's Eve

Some people ring in the new year with champagne, their friends and family, and diets they’ll never follow through with.

I’m about to ring in the new year by losing my favorite piece of jewelry at H-Mart, of all places.

“Are you sure you didn’t leave your ring back at home?” My best friend, Ali Rios, asks for the third time as we look through the shelves stacked with trail mix.

After dropping my brother, Carson, off at the beach with his girlfriend, Ali and I agreed on a movie night. However, our pantry is pretty barren after eating just about everything during finals week while we pulled all-nighters. Don’t ask.

“Yes, I’m certain.” My maternal grandmother gifted me my Claddagh ring before she died. That ring is super important to me, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost it.

My mother might kill me, but I prefer to live long enough to see my college graduation. So finding it is a top priority, and I will flip this entire store upside down if I have to.

Okay, maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but I ran out of fucks to give a while ago.

“We’ll find it,” she assures me, but I’m not sure I believe her. Considering that we’re in the middle of H-Mart, which sells just about everything, the odds of finding a ring with a band as thin as my hair are about as slim as Wes Anderson creating a stereotypical rom-com.

Ali rummages through some massive bags of candy and comes up empty. “This is where you last remember having your ring?”

“Yes!” I exclaim before growling. “No…ugh! I don’t fucking know. One minute, I was grabbing those mango gummies and playing with the ring. The next? I’m grabbing a bottle of saké, and I don’t see it in my hand!”

“Carly, we already looked at the alcohol,” my best friend reminds me. “Do we wanna look again?”

I check my phone and notice how it’s almost ten p.m. The store is about to close pretty soon, and we’re shit out of luck.

Where’s my ring?

“You know what?” I think out loud. “I’ll retrace my steps, again. Maybe it fell on the shelves with the sodas or something.”

Ali doesn’t take her eyes off the shelves as she nods. “Okay, you do that.”

I stroll away from the candy aisle and through the sodas, carefully tilting one bottle after another, looking deeper into the shelves. I swear, if I find my stupid but special ring sitting in plain sight—

“Do you need help?” A deep voice asks me. I can hear the hesitation peek through, although it’s subtle.

“Nope,” I call out. “I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

“I’m a little worried if you think squeezing your head between soda bottles is your definition of fine.”

“And you wouldn’t?” I challenge. Ugh, it’s not there. You know what? There are many more aisles left to look at—I can just stick my head in them like a normal person.

Except I’m not normal, whatsoever.

“Most people would just stick their hand in there,” he remarks. “Instead of their head.”

I let out a breath of slight annoyance. “Luckily for you, I’m not most people.”

When my head is finally free from the soda packs, I turn around to see who could have possibly stood by to watch the spectacle that was my butt in the air and my head in the sodas, only for all annoyance to disappear when I make contact with eyes so dark I’m pretty sure they’re black, like the night sky or undeveloped black and white film.

All annoyance may have disappeared thanks to a pretty pair of charcoal eyes, but embarrassment fills the space when I realize that I just had my butt out in front of someone.

Since H-Mart is about to close, the last thing I cared about was people seeing me run around like a madwoman, yelling, “Where’s my ring? ?”

Sure, I wasn’t shouting, but I practically stuck my ass out in front of Crew Shentu, who just happens to be one of the most acknowledged former actors in my age group.

I can feel my cheeks burning up because of it. “Can I help you?”

Crew nods. “Maybe pass me some of the soda, and we can pretend this didn’t happen.”

That would be delightful. I reach for the soda bottle of his choice, knocking over a few in the process, and revealing…

My ring.

Are you kidding me? It fell behind the lemon-lime soda bottles. Okay, I was perusing the soda bottles earlier, but I wasn’t looking at that brand in particular—I don’t even like lemon-lime soda because it’s too bland for me.

“Fuck me,” I mutter to myself, bending down to pick up the bottles that crashed to the floor and place them back on the shelves. I grab my ring, slip it into my right hand while juggling the sodas, and shove them next to the other matching cases.

Once that ring is on, I feel a wave of tension fall off my shoulders. “Ali! I found it!”

I pretend not to notice Crew’s dark brows furrow at my shouting because Ali jogs over to the soda aisle with a bag of sour ropes and two bottles of Soju in a red carrier.

“Where did—” She spots Crew and her hazel eyes light up, but in a friendly way.

“Crew, nice to see you! When did you get back from Australia?”

I turn my head towards Crew, whose face softens and turns a shade of red brighter than Ali’s t-shirt.

“Two days ago,” Crew responds. “Vinny didn’t say anything?”

Ali shakes her head, chuckling. “He should have.”

Vinny, or Vincent Li, is Ali’s boyfriend whom she’s been dating for a little over a year now.

I’ve met the guy before, and he’s exceeded Ali’s standards in multiple ways.

I’m happy for her. What her boyfriend failed to mention, however, is that his roommate happens to be one of the most reclusive former movie stars to date.

Or that his roommate has a crush on Ali.

Now that I think about it, I don’t think either knows about Crew’s feelings. I shouldn’t say anything about it, right? Bringing it up at all feels extremely invasive.

“Crew, this is my friend, Carly.” She wraps an arm around my shoulder. Thankfully, we’re the same height, so it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. “I’ve told you and Vinny about her, haven’t I?”

“You better have,” I tease. “I haven’t been in your life for the past eighteen years for nothing.”

Ali chuckles at my comment, but Crew furrows his brow even more, so much so that a crease develops in the small space between. “You’re the director, aren’t you?”

Though I’m flattered to be thought of as something other than Ali’s best friend or someone’s sister, I can’t help but note the slight strain in his utterly deep voice.

“Student director,” I correct him, noting the slight edge in his tone. Being a student director has never been a bad thing—it just means I’m learning. “But my portfolio exceeds UCLA’s film department.”

“Eh, don’t be insulted,” Ali assures me. “Crew’s just jetlagged or something. Meanwhile, we have a John Hughes marathon to begin.”

She hooks her free arm through mine as she waves goodbye to Crew, and we stroll over to the cash register to purchase our supply of junk food and alcohol. As we pay, I can’t help but dissect that interaction, and how Crew’s whole demeanor shifted around me, and especially Ali.

What’s with that guy?