Page 13 of Between the Lines

Healwaysresponded.

And thinking back now, it was outrightludicrousthat I’d ever felt any sense of sadness or loss when I realized the initiation of conversation between us was always one-sided.

Because I’dmade it that way.

“You, my dear, are an absurd person,” I told myself in the mirror, shaking my head. Knowing I likely wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, I went ahead and got in the shower.

Not even the hottest of water could help me scrub away anxious feelings about what I would be getting into today.

Table reads were one thing—actually diving into the scenes was something wholly different.

Obviously, I’d known it was coming, but the call sheet that had hit my email last night made it all the more real. It took everything from simplyplannedtoimpending.

Out of the shower, I went from my phone to look at the email again, to check on my call time. It was still dark out, but the sun would be coming up soon—thinking through the episode, it would make sense for most of our filming to play off an abundance of daylight.

The email quickly confirmed what I suspected—a 6 a.m. call time, which wasn’t that far from now, especially when I factored in travel time. That shower had been much longer than I realized. I did a scan of everything else, double-checking details—it was thorough. Exactly where to go, who to check in with, which day of shooting this was, contact information, a schedule, and even a forecast of the weather.

Chilly.

I wouldn’t have time to stop for coffee, but I could at least be cozy until I checked in for wardrobe—I picked a cute coordinating hoodie and leggings combo, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and I was ready.

Mostly.

I was grabbing shoes when my phone buzzed with a text that made my eyes go wide.

For the first time in months…Shaw had initiated a conversation.

Shaw:Would it be weird if I grabbed coffee for you?

I stared at the phone a long time before I blinked, snapping myself back into action.

Uh…

Maybe? But I would definitely appreciate it.

My hands were shaking as I slipped my feet into my fuzzy boots, unreasonably nervous about the response.

Shaw:Pistachio brown sugar, oat milk, dash of cinnamon, right?

I closed my eyes, irrationally stunned that he remembered that.

It doesn’t mean anything El.

Yeah. Thanks so muchI texted back, keeping it friendly and light.

Thathadto be my motto going into this.

We were friends.

He was just being nice.

I reminded myself over and over as I drove to the studio, as I checked into my dressing room where the latte was already waiting, as I went through makeup and wardrobe.

And then, on set, as we ran through the blocking, between me and the young actress playing Shannon—the scene started with just us, and then…Shaw.

He looked good.

But I couldn’t dwell on that.

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