Page 28 of A Little Bit Extra

You wound me.

Cassie

You’ll survive. ;)

The sound of my dad clearing his throat catches my attention, so I shift my gaze from my phone to him.

“We’re here,” he mutters.

Sure enough, I look out the window to see the bakery. Busy as ever on a weekday morning, and it doesn’t bother my dad in the slightest. He would rather a place be busy with opportunities for press than to be empty. I’d rather have the latter. While I don't mind conversing with a few people who recognize me, being constantly interrupted to take photos while eating prevents me from enjoying myself. My body stiffens when I think of the added attention, and my mind remains on edge.

I exit the car and follow my dad inside. The soft lights of the inside compliment the soft music playing in the background. We’re directed to a table by the window, Dad’s signature table. Anyone can see him sitting here while they walk by, and he can see anyone who enters the restaurant.

We place our order, eggs benedict for him and an egg sandwich for me, and I’m thankful to have some food in my stomach before the interrogation begins.

“So, Emmett.” I look up from eating to find my dad staring at me, a mug full to the brim with coffee in his right hand. “How is the movie going? How long is your current contract, again?” He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“It’s going well, still early in the schedule. It’s a few months long.” Like any other movie.

“And after?”

“After what?” I raise an eyebrow in challenge, daring him to make a scene in the restaurant.

“You know what I mean,” he deadpans.

“I have a few options, haven’t signed anything yet.” Not sure if I will.

“If you need more options, or advice, let me know. You might have capacity to take on two movies in parallel if you didn’t hangout with those guys.”

“Those guys are my friends, Dad. You’ve met them plenty of times,” I say, rolling my eyes. Every time we talk about my career, he has to throw my friends under a rug, as if they aren’t important to me.

He doesn’t respond, just nods and waves the waiter over for the bill. We don’t talk much for the remainder of our time together, except for our exchange when he drops me off at the studio for work.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly enough. I rarely see Cassie, glimpsing her once or twice on opposite sides of the studio. Marcy likely has her occupied with various tasks that don't include me. I believe it's revenge for spending time with her. That's okay though, because we find ways to talk to each other all day long.

I want to get to know Cassie. I want to know what her favorite color is, even though I could bet that it’s blue. She’s always wearing blue. I want to know what her favorite food is, whether she prefers scrambled or sunny-side-up eggs in the morning, or what her go-to activity is when she's stuck inside all day. I want to know Cassie better than I've ever wanted to know anyone, and the thought sends shivers down my spine.

Cassie has taken to calling me Hotshot, so I’ve started calling her Sass, as her sassy remarks seem to be never-ending. I like it. It's a nice change of pace from always hanging out with the guys.

Finally, the day is over and I’m able to head home to my apartment. It’s Friday, so thankfully I don’t have to be at the studio tomorrow. I get the next two days to relax and prepare for my scenes for next week.

When I finally get home, I collapse onto the couch, drained. I pull out my phone to text Cassie back, but at the last minute decide to call her.

“Hello?” Cassie answers.

“Hi, Sass. This okay?” I ask.

She chuckles. “Yes, it’s okay, Emmett. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to see what you thought about your first week.”

“Oh, um, it was good. Exhausting. Is it always like this?” she asks.

“Yep, the first week of the job is always the worst.”

The first week is typically full of stress and anxiety, but ever since I started considering quitting acting, it has been a relief. I’m still ensuring I do the best job, but I no longer feel the overwhelming need to constantly be “on” around others. I’m there to act and that’s it. I know I should worry about what’s next for me, but I think for a little while I’m going to pretend that nothing is.

“Well, I’m tired and not looking forward to working tonight. What are you doing tonight? Are you going to spend any time writing?” Cassie says.

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