Page 23 of A Little Bit Extra

Except I’m 24 and I’ve fallen into a quick friendship with a 29-year-old actor that half of America loves. Most people would hear this story and wonder if we’ve slept together yet, especially if they hear I’m a nobody from the Midwest. They would look at us and think it’s just a moment in time and I’ll be forgotten by next week. Except I don’t think that will happen. At least, I hope it doesn’t, because I’m getting awfully used to Emmett in my life.

After I get home, I text Emmett that I’ve made it, to which he responds with a smiley face emoji.

I grab the stack of papers with random scenes for tomorrow’s class and spend the next hour sitting in bed, reading through lines. I don’t have to rehearse them a ton. Tomorrow is just a group reading. It’s practice, anyway. I just like to be a bit more prepared than I would for a typical weekly class.

I’ve attended these acting classes since I moved to LA. On my first morning here, I walked to a coffee shop at the corner closest to our apartment and they had a flier on the bulletin board. It was one of those papers with a “take one!” written on the top and the most vague description of a local acting group. The bottom of the paper was cut into strips, just a phone number on each one. I might have been a little too trusting because of my Midwest upbringing. I took one, called the number, showed up at a random office building up the road, and the rest is history. It ended up being legit, although Lucy scolded me, telling me not to trust so openly over here and yada yada yada.

My phone is buzzing somewhere. I look under and above my sheets, under papers, and even under my legs, trying to find it. Finally, I locate it next to my pillow. Of course, the one place that’s most obvious and I look there last.

“Whatcha’ smiling at?” Lucy appears at my doorway.

I look to meet her gaze with raised eyebrows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I place my phone on the wireless phone charger on the nightstand.

“Hm, yeah, okay,” Lucy walks past the threshold into my room.

My phone buzzes again. Lucy takes two giant strides and practically throws herself toward my nightstand. “CASSIE!” She gasps. Both of her hands hit the nightstand to stop her from falling forward. I clutch the phone to my chest.

“You’re texting Emmett, aren’t you?” she asks.

“Maybe.” I wince.

“I thought you two weren’t supposed to be all friendly and such?” Now that Lucy has caught her breath, she walks to the edge of my bed and has a seat.

I sit up a bit and take a peek at my phone. The message wasn’t even from Emmett; it was from Annie. I set my phone in my lap and look up at Lucy.

I give her an “are you kidding me?” look because she is the only person who knows I spent the night at Emmett’s apartment. Of course we’re being friendly. The fact that we’re texting has nothing to do with the fact that we spent the last 48 hours in each other’s company. I count the time at the studio, even if I barely saw him there. We were in the same building. It counts.

“You know what I mean. Don’t get me wrong, I am thrilled for you to add another friend to your roster besides me.” Lucy brings a hand to her heart and dips her head. “I’m just here to remind you that you,” she points in my direction, “wanted me to remind you to not catch feelings.”

“Luce, I’ve known him for two days.” I don’t like him like that, right? I mean, it has only been two days. 48 hours. It’s the attraction between us, that’s all. I’m a straight woman and I’d be foolish to not find him attractive. In fact, I bet there’s a fan club for plenty of people who find Emmett attractive and haven’t even had a conversation with him. Based on that logic, I think I’m handling all of this just fine. Plus, I won’t see him outside of work for the rest of the week. Separation will be good, not that I need it, but to help calm whatever tension is rising whenever we’re around each other.

Lucy furrows her eyebrows. “Okay, fine. I’m just doing my job as your best friend to remind you of these things. Now, tell me more about your job. I didn’t hear enough yesterday.” She pulls her legs under her and throws one of my many blankets over them.

We spend the next hour talking about January Studios. She asks me questions about what my tasks are, to which I respond with it depends. It depends on what Marcy is doing, who is filming that day, scene location, if some other department is having an issue, or if some actor needs something on set. We talk about the movie posters in the hallway, which is one of my favorite areas in the studio. We rabbit hole down a few of the movies filmed there, so I tell her I’ll take a photo of the signed posters when I go back in tomorrow. She asks me about Emmett’s friends too, but I don’t have a lot to tell her on that front.

“They all work at the studio. Lane and Max work in casting, Tyler works in catering. The three of them were friends first, and then Tyler befriended Emmett a year ago when he was filming his last movie. Maybe you can come the next time I hang out with them all?” I ask, not even thinking about the words as they come out of my mouth. I don’t know if there will be a next time. Lucy doesn’t question my wording, thankfully.

“Yeah, that’d be fun. As long as I’m not at the studio or the diner, I can probably make it.”

“How are your paintings coming along?” I ask. Lucy has a huge showcase this fall. It’s only June, but she has to finish three connected paintings by October. The winner of the showcase gets a year-long permanent feature in the art gallery Lucy has been trying to get into as long as I’ve known her.

She sighs and leans to the left, catching her head with her hand and resting her elbow on the bed. “It’s fine. I know I’ll think of something. Every time I think I have something, it never turns out the way I want to once I paint. The first one is always great, sometimes even the second, but once I paint the third…” She groans and rolls over onto her back. She presses both palms to her forehead. “They don’t connect. I keep trying, but every time I fail.” She turns her head to look at me, placing both of her hands on her stomach. “I think it’s the pressure, but you know what it’s like, to be so close to having something you want for it to still feel so far away.” She turns her head back to the ceiling.

I know what it feels like, except I had what I wanted before someone took it from me.

I landed a role. The most perfect role. It was a supporting role in a limited series, a small-town drama. I would have played the best friend to the main female character. I had a script, plenty of lines to pour myself into, the possibility for the limited series to turn into an ongoing series depending on viewer support.

I had the role, verbally, for a whole day. When I walked into the studio to sign the contract, I found out they cut my character. They found it a conflict of interest because they somehow found out I slept with a writer of the show. Once. I tried to tell them I didn’t know he was a writer for the show before I auditioned, but they didn’t believe me. Why would they? I was a nobody. I had no resume, no references, nothing to brag about. So, I took whatever dignity I had and left. That’s why I don’t date anyone in this industry. It’s too easy to get burned.

“You’ll figure it out, Luce. You always do.” I try to reassure her. She gives me a small smile.

We only talk for a little longer before I kick her out of my room so I can go to sleep. It’s getting a bit late and I’m drained from the past few days. My legs are sore from all the walking. I never understood why it could take a day or two for physical activity to set in, but I’m feeling it now and I’m very thankful to be laying in bed.

After setting my papers for class tomorrow on my nightstand, I place my phone back on the charger. Then I pull the chain on the lamp and snuggle back into bed, pull the sheets to my chest, and sink into them with a vast sigh. I may be friends with Emmett, but that doesn’t mean I want to be anything more. I just hope he’s on the same page.

7

Cassie

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