Page 8 of The Fake Script

“You did a fabulous job, honey,” she says, nodding in satisfaction.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Here’s some coffee,” Robyn says, approaching with a bright smile.

Just when I’m about to thank her, a hand falls on my shoulder, and I don’t need to turn around to know who it belongs to. Her strong jasmine perfume and clingy fingers are enough of a clue.

“I told you we still had greatchemistry,” Madison coos, fluttering her eyelashes like she always does. “We’re perfect together.”

I suck in a small breath, but I don’t respond. If I snap at her on day one, we’ll never make it through this production. Even if I wasn’t exactly thrilled to do this movie, especially with Madison, I made a commitment. I just have to be professional and not let her get under my skin. If she wants to keep pretending we have a real shot at romance, that’s her problem. I’m not wasting any more energy on her.

“Are we ready for the next scene?” I ask, loud enough for Clarence, the director, to hear me.

“We are,” he responds, winking at me. Clarence is another big reason why I’m here. Acting under his direction is always a breeze, and he’s one of the best in the business. “Everyone is in position.”

We had to reshoot this simple scene five times, and everyone is exhausted. If we keep going like this, it’ll take us twice as long to close this movie, which I’m sure is the reason why Madison is acting like a total diva and constantly messing up her lines.

Okay. It wasn’t entirely her fault. I was a little distracted too. Every time I saw movement from afar, I stole a glance, hoping to glimpse Emma. But she never made another appearance the rest of the morning. Nor during lunch.

“Ready?” Cillian, my friend and bodyguard, booms in his deep Irish accent.

I nod. “Let’s go.”

We get up from our table and head outside. The crew is prepping the set inside the bookstore for our next scene, but I’m more interested in a certain raven-haired girl who might be hanging around. Alas, she’s still nowhere to be found.

“Are you okay, lad?” Cillian asks, furrowing his dark eyebrows. “You’ve been darting your eyes around a lot today. Has something happened? Did you receive threats?”

“What? No,” I blurt. Typical Cillian, going all dark and bodyguard on me. “Everything’s fine.”

“You know you need to tell me if—”

“I swear, it’s nothing like that. Just getting used to my new environment, that's all.”

He snorts. “Right. Since when does Auston Buckley not feel at home everywhere he goes?”

“Uh . . .” Looks like I have to come up with better lies if I want to fool my friend. “I’m just appreciating the scenery. It’s a pretty street.”

“Sure is. Not ideal, though,”he says, his eyes fixed on the trailer parked at the end of the street.

We couldn’t park the trailers on the street itself since it’s too narrow, so they arranged them at the end of the lane in a small parking lot. Which also means my trailer isn’t in the “secure filming area” they’ve installed. Hence, why Cillian has to come with me every time I go back as a safety precaution. Not that I can’t defend myself, but the crowds can get wild, and it’s an insurance clause in my contract.

As we approach, I spot a few fans waiting near the trailer behind a series of barricades. They call my name, shaking their movie posters and phones when they see me. As much as I love acting, the fame that comes along with it isn’t exactly my favorite part. I’m beyond grateful for my fans, but sometimes, I have trouble grasping why they love me so much when they don’t even know me. Still, I oblige, because I know they’ve been waiting here for hours, and I do get a kick out of making people smile. Who doesn’t?

I take selfies with them and sign autographs before heading to my trailer for a quick nap. But as soon as I fall asleep, my dreams sweep me back to that day on Emma’s porch, how distraught and exhausted she looked, the way she smelled as I pulled her into my arms, her beautiful blue eyes pleading as she begged me to stay. And like a bad movie stuck on repeat, I keep leaving her. Every single time.

5

The Odds

Emma

“Emz. What’s wrong?” Alice asks for the tenth time today as we’re walking back to our place after lunch.

I shake my head, trying to erase Auston’s face from my mind. “Nothing.”

Hayley halts her steps and puts her hands on my shoulders. “Come on. You’ve been way too grumpy today. Even for you. Spill.”

I sigh. “Really, it’s nothing. Just that time of the month, you know.” I force a chuckle. “Wouldn’t it be nice to skip the four days a month when we’re tired and cranky?”

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