Page 24 of Wildest Dreams

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a gaggle of girls looking at us through their phones, most likely taking pictures of Pierre to post on social media. If Pierre notices, he ignores them.

“I think Marina is. She’s been calling.”

“You didn’t answer?”

“Nope.”

“How are you going to work with her if you can’t stand to talk to her?”

“Let’s just say I’ll deserve the Oscar for this performance.”

“You were nominated once before, weren’t you?”

“Twice, actually. It’s a surreal experience. By the time the awards season rolls around, you’re more than a year removed from the project and you’ve moved on to other things. Then you’re there with all these people you’ve looked up to your whole life. The cameras are in your face. It’s like an out-of-body thing. I can’t describe it.”

“Well, on TV it looks magical.”

He laughs. “That’s Hollywood!” He finishes his sandwich and balls up the wrapper. “I guess it is magical in retrospect. In the moment, it’s incredibly tense. You have to be removed from it to appreciate it. I know a few people who’ve won those big awards, and they say they don’t even remember the ceremony. It’s like your body goes into shock, then the next morning you wake up and there’s a little gold man on your nightstand.”

“Do you want to win one?”

He makes a face and tilts his head slightly. “I used to. I’d be grateful if I did, but I don’t really focus on it as much, especially since my mom died. It’s like I wanted it for her.”

“What do you want for you?”

He pauses and stares at me for a long minute. “I think I could ask you the same thing.”

I freeze. Like he did Wednesday evening, he gives me the look, the one that penetrates my being.

“What do you mean?” I ask with trepidation.

“I had an epiphany,” he says, tilting his head.

“About me?”

“About us.”

“Us? We’re an us now?” My stomach knots, but I maintain my composure.

“I know why I’m so drawn to you, apart from the obvious.”

“The obvious?”

“Yeah. You’re gorgeous, sweet, down-to-earth. There’s a whole host of adjectives I could use to describe you. That’s the obvious.”

I feel blood rush to my face and I know I’m beet red. I laugh nervously and look down to pick at my almost-finished sandwich. “Um, thank you?”

“Still struggling with the compliments?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“You’ll have to get used to them. You deserve to hear them every day.”

“I’ll work on it.” We pause and I take a sip of water. “What is your epiphany, then?”

“My epiphany is that I’m drawn to you because we’ve both spent our lives living for other people. Now that those people are no longer in our lives—from death or divorce or what have you—we find ourselves…” He pauses and looks out to the horizon. “…unmoored.”

“Unmoored.” I nod and think about this. He has a point. “Good word. You should try your hand at writing.”

---