Page 72 of You. Me. Us.

Hillary’s stomach plummeted as if she’d swallowed a stone. She opened her mouth to protest, but Olivia silenced her with an upheld palm.

“I don’t want excuses. You need to get it together, I know the writer you can be, I’ve seen her. I don’t care how many readers your acting series brought to Muse. If you can’t deliver quality content consistently, I can’t accept your pitches.”

Olivia’s words hung in the air, sharp as a guillotine blade. Hillary’s mind raced. She’d poured her heart into writing the acting series of articles, and now it seemed to count for nothing. Gripping the table’s edge, she tried to calm the flood of disappointment and frustration rising inside of her.

“I understand,” Hillary managed, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt. “I’ll do better. I won’t let you down again.”

Olivia’s expression softened a fraction. “I know you have it in you, Hillary. That’s why I’m pushing you. Now go clear your head and come back with something that will knock my socks off. I’m counting on you.”

Hillary nodded, not trusting herself to speak around the lump in her throat. As she gathered her notes with shaking hands, she couldn’t help but wonder if her dreams of journalism greatness were slipping through her fingers like sand. She had to prove Olivia wrong. Failure simply wasn’t an option.

Trying to keep from slouching in defeat, Hillary exited the conference room, the weight of disappointment bearing down on her. In the hallway, she leaned against the wall and closed hereyes, trying to steady her breathing. The buzzing of her silenced phone snapped her back to the present.

With a sigh, Hillary dug the device out of her pocket and saw a missed call from her agent. She hesitated, finger hovering over the voicemail icon. Did she even want to know? After the disastrous meeting with Olivia, the last thing she needed was more bad news.

“Get it together, Mitchell,” she muttered, tapping the screen.

Her agent’s voice filled her ear, chipper as always. “Hillary! I’ve got an audition for you. It’s a leading role in a new indie film. I think you’d be perfect for it. Call me back ASAP so we can discuss details.”

Hillary pulled the phone away, staring at it as if it had sprouted legs. An audition? Now? The timing couldn’t be worse. Besides, hadn’t she told Julius months ago that she was done with acting until she understood if she was any good at it? That journalism was her true calling?

Doubt swirled in her mind as she navigated to her text messages. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, crafting and deleting messages to Cara for the support she wanted, but also needed. Finally, she settled on, “Got an audition. Not sure I want to do it. Thoughts?”

The response came within seconds. “Do the damn audition, Hill. What have you got to lose?”

Hillary chewed her lip. Cara had a point. It wasn’t like her journalism career was soaring at the moment. And if she got the role, it could be a much-needed confidence boost. A chance to prove to herself - and Olivia - that she wasn’t a lost cause. A chance to realize that Julius didn’t just make her feel talented, she was.

Before she could change her mind, Hillary dialed her agent back. “Hey, it’s Hillary. Tell me more about this audition.”

“I knew you’d call back! It’s very different, but also sort of the same. Indie filmmaker wants to do a science fiction horror where the lead female ends up being the killer all along. A sort of slasher meets fantasy.”

“And I’d be good at this?”

“You covered a range in the last movie, use this one to see if you prefer this genre. I promise, it’s more fun. Plus, a great way to take out rage.”

Blowing out a breath, Hillary tried to remember acting was like writing, different genres for different times in your career.

“Okay. I’d like to audition.”

“Fantastic. I’ll email you the scene to prepare, but you’ll also need to prepare a monologue for portion one of the audition.”

“Great, thanks,” she hung the phone up to avoid second guessing her choice.

“Hillary!” Olivia’s voice cut through her thoughts, sharp and unexpected.

Hillary whirled around, eyes wide. Olivia was leaning out of her office door, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched the way it did when she was borderline annoyed. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” she said, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “An audition, huh?”

Heat crept up Hillary’s neck. “I... yes. I’m not sure if I’m going to do it, though. I mean, I just told you I want to focus on my writing, and...”

Olivia held up a hand, silencing her. “Hillary, listen to me. Take the audition. Embrace it. Remember how alive you felt when you were writing during filming? That’s the energy I want to see from you, maybe you just need to be in a new place in your career overall.”

Hillary blinked, surprised by the encouragement. “You really think I should do it?”

“I know you should.” Olivia’s gaze was intense, unwavering. “You have a gift, Hillary. Don’t let fear hold you back from sharing it with the world. You love writing, and you’re good at it, but maybe you’re better at this. Shit, it’s not like the director can be any scarier than me.”

The words lodged in Hillary’s throat, a jumble of emotions she couldn’t quite untangle. She wanted to tell Olivia the truth - that it wasn’t just fear holding her back, but a certain blue-eyed actor who had stolen her heart and shattered it in the span of a few months making her think she didn’t belong anywhere where emotions ran that hot.

But she couldn’t. Olivia was the press, after all, and the last thing Hillary needed was her personal life splashed across the headlines. No, this was something she needed to figure out on her own.

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