Chapter Nineteen
The morning’s shoot had been tedious, all stops and starts – even more than usual.
The mood onset was fractious, everybody getting frustrated and blaming every other department for the problems. Not only were several key cast members nursing hangovers, but even the people who hadn’t been out last night were aware of the increased press attention that Josh and I had drawn.
Better that than a news story about Josh’s script ending up online, I supposed.
Instead of taking myself off to my trailer, I’d come to hide out for a bit in one of the reading platforms carved into the huge tree at the centre of the Great Archive set.
Are we meant to hang out on the sets? No, but if this was the only act of rebellion I ever made on Wonderwick, it was probably allowed.
Of course I knew it was fake, that all the books were fake, that I wasn’t really in a vast, sprawling library carved out of ancient trees, but the way the set designers had made it come to life meant it felt real.
It felt like being held by the branches of an enormous oak, surrounded by thousands of hand-crafted tomes.
Even without the magic, twinkly golden light that the lighting team created when we shot, it still felt remote and peaceful.
I’d taken a photo of myself reading a new book (the final instalment of a series by a Black American sci-fi author) in the Great Archive and posted it to my Instagram stories so @Whats-EmilyReading would have some new material.
I was a few chapters in when someone called to me from below.
When I leaned over the side of the reading platform, I saw it was Josh.
‘I can’t believe you’ve gone public with your little hangout spot,’ he said. ‘I thought I was the only one who knew you came up here and now you’ve shared it with your millions of followers!’
He started climbing one of the ladders up to my nook.
‘To what do I owe this visit?’ I asked as his face appeared at the top of the ladder. I moved over so he could share the platform with me, and realised I had gone so far to create space between us that I was squished up against the fake tree bark.
‘Say, Montgomery, what do you think of a drink tonight?’ Josh asked, a little apprehensively.
I grimaced at the thought of another night of drinking, another night of weird ping-pong with my emotions. ‘I don’t think I have another a big night in me,’ I said. Better to be on the safe side.
‘Who said anything about a big night? But if you’re sure you don’t feel like it, I totally get it,’ Josh said, scratching the back of his head.
‘Oh, sorry, what were you thinking?’
‘Uh, I meant more a cosy pub kinda vibe? You know, like our last, uh, extra-curricular activity but without the side dish of extortion? There’s a place in Kingsdown that has a real fire .
. . I thought it could be, I don’t know, nice?
’ The way we were sitting side by side meant he didn’t have to look me in the eye, instead casually gazing off into the distance.
We were making more of an effort with each other, and I didn’t want to let my weird feelings the night before get the better of me.
‘That actually sounds great, Josh. Who’s going?
’ I wasn’t sure if I was up for spending social time with Darcy as well as professional, but would take one for the team if necessary.
Instantly, his face froze. He opened his mouth and closed it again and looked a bit like a chiselled goldfish. ‘Um, uh, actually . . .’
‘Yes?’ I raised my eyebrows at him.
‘I was thinking maybe it would be nice, just me and you? Call it corporate bonding or whatever,’ he said breezily, but he couldn’t quite shake the awkwardness of having to say it out loud.
‘Oh!’
Josh frowned at me. ‘Unless that would be weird? I don’t want it to be weird.’
‘No, it wouldn’t be weird at all!’
‘Great!’ The relief in his voice was palpable. ‘See you there at eight? It’s called the White Hart in Kingsdown. Give Mike the night off, I’ll get Yuri to drop you home. Consider it payback for the lift the other night, right?’
‘I’ll see you there.’ I nodded as he descended the ladder.
I didn’t know why Josh was so keen for us to hang out, but I couldn’t reject an olive branch like this.
Maybe this would be the film where we became friends at last?
Or if not friends, then . . . not-enemies?
‘I think we’re nearly good to go again, if you’re ready to rejoin the real world? ’
Back in the real world, my phone was ringing.
‘Ben’s keen. Like keen keen,’ Chloe said before I could even say hello. ‘Your saucy little minx outfit last night has really got things moving! Whose idea was all that anyway? Josh putting his arm around you all possessive! I thought it was up to me to come up with press moments!’
‘Oh, it was nothing,’ I told her. I couldn’t quite bring myself to admit that the whole thing had been completely organic, not to mention a little swoonsome.
‘Well, you’re clearly doing something right. Keep up the good work!’ she said, before hanging up. It struck me then that this was how I was mostly thinking about it, like work. I needed to get my head in the game and remember how very gorgeous and dashing Ben was.
That afternoon, Darcy stalked past Carrie and me as we picked up coffees from craft services.
‘It’s like she’s trying to be bitchy, you know? The way she walks, the way she doesn’t make eye contact with you, the way she talks, it’s all so fucking contrived,’ Carrie said.
‘It does feel a bit like she’s trying too hard, doesn’t it?’ I murmured. ‘I thought she was meant to be nice.’
‘Well, that’s what I heard too! Load of bollocks.’ She shook her head before sipping from her cup.
‘Josh asked me out for a drink later,’ I said, like it was so weird I couldn’t keep it to myself.
‘Just you two?’ She frowned at me. Of course, she hadn’t known about the bonding over the lost script, and I wasn’t going to tell her about it, so it probably seemed even weirder to her than it did to me.
‘Yep.’
‘Like a date?’
‘No!’ I said, quickly. ‘Not like that!’
‘Are you sure not like that?’
I turned to face her. ‘Carrie, in what world would that ever make sense?’
‘Look, don’t ask me, stranger things have happened.’
‘It’s just a drink!’ I protested.
She screwed up her nose sceptically. ‘We’ll see.’
‘Well, apparently I’m destined for Ben Sage-Whittle,’ I said, breezily. ‘Josh wouldn’t even get a look-in.’