Page 20 of A Little Bit Extra

Instead, it’s a text from Cassie. I laugh.

Cassie

Marcy has this look in her eye. Should I be worried?

Emmett

She may have yelled at me for us hanging out last night, but no need to be worried.

Cassie

Sounds like we will need to keep us hanging out a secret?

It sounds like it. I text her back and let her know I’m excited for tonight. I make a mental note to add Cassie to my list of approved people for my garage so she doesn’t have to talk to anyone on her way in. It’ll be easier that way for her to get to my apartment with the lowest risk. Photographers like to camp outside at random times and I’d like to avoid an article and photo with her in it.

I groan just thinking about it. I don’t want to explain her to my dad. There isn’t even anything to explain, and I don’t even know if whatever this is will last longer than a week. We might hang out tonight and decide that’s it. I highly doubt it, but I have to think about all the possible outcomes.

My radio beeps and Ed’s voice comes through the speaker. I’m needed on set.

The rest of the day is a blur. Ed has me staying busy, helping with others and giving advice to newer actors. The more I’m busy, the less I look for Cassie. I think she’s avoiding the set, though, because I’ve seen Marcy plenty of times. I don’t know if it’s Cassie’s doing or Marcy’s. Marcy has her way of weaving herself into my life, which I would typically welcome because she’s one of my best friends, but I’m annoyed at the moment. She has nothing to worry about because Cassie and I are just friends.

Anyway, I’m home now and waiting for Cassie. I check the time on my phone for the tenth time before the display finally turns to 6 p.m. I already have dinner ready to go to the table. It’s not much, but I thought Cassie might enjoy it. It’s a simple summer salad full of greens, various vegetables, and topped with grilled chicken. The dressing is a light vinaigrette I’m obsessed with. I also have a variety of non-alcoholic beverages in my fridge, since I know she chooses not to drink most days.

There’s a light tap on the door, which I can only assume is Cassie.

I open the door and somehow forget how to speak. Cassie is wearing a mid-length floral dress. It’s a mix of light purples and pinks and blues. My gaze tracks from her collarbones, down the front of her dress, and back up to meet her eyes. She has the cutest smile. It’s radiating joy, yet subtle, like a soft rainfall.

“Want to come in?” I ask playfully.

She rolls her eyes. With her right hand, she pushes on my chest to move me out of her way and walks into my apartment.

I close the door and turn around to find her staring at me.

“What?” I ask.

“This isn’t a date,” she says.

A challenge that I accept.

“This isn’t not a date,” I respond.

Cassie glares at me, but it’s cute when she does it. She thinks she comes across as mean and grumpy, but I can see behind the mask she’s wearing. She’s not angry. She wouldn’t have come over here tonight if she didn’t want to spend time with me, so to me, this is a date. Maybe not the perfect first date, since it’s in my apartment, but it has everything a date should be. Two people, dinner, and… yeah, that’s it.

“Come on. Let’s eat and you can tell me about your day,” I say.

We walk over to the table, and I pull out her chair to let her sit. This gets a small chuckle and smile out of her.

We spend dinner talking about our day. Once again, it’s just easy. I don’t have to impress her with any stories from my past. The conversation just flows. It’s not forced and I feel that the most.

I’ve never had a first date like this. I always feel put in the spotlight. There’s this persona that I embody, and if I deviate from it, the date always ends badly. The girl would always try to bring it back around because they just wanted to go home with me. I was a consolation prize to them, something they could go back to their friends and gossip about.

“Tell me more about your writing,” Cassie says as she sticks a forkful of lettuce in her mouth. We both agreed this is the best salad we’ve ever had.

“What do you want to know?” I ask, leaning back in my chair.

She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why is it only a hobby? I can tell you love it.”

“Do I talk about it that much?” I ask. She nods and giggles. “Well, it was never an option. My dad, um, he never gave me the option to be anything other than an actor.”

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