Page 13 of Faking It

“There’s some romance but not really,” Tori replies.

“Stop speaking in riddles. Is there romance, or not?”

“It’s a military, enemies to lovers movie, so yes, there’s a romantic subplot.”

I brake to a stop as a truck cuts right in front of me. With a hard press of my car horn, I express my displeasure. “Asshole,” I mutter, switching lanes. I hate driving behind vehicles that make it hard to see the road ahead.

“Damn, it was only a slight slip up,” Tori grumbles. “There’s no need to call me names.”

“You’re not the asshole. It’s a stupid truck driver. A romantic subplot? Sounds steamy.”

“You won’t be required to get naked or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But there will be making out scenes, won’t it?”

“I didn’t read through the entire script, but I imagine so. Is there a problem?”

“Not a problem, just Logan.” My unofficial-boyfriend gets jealous of me wearing a fitted uniform to work.I can’t imagine him being pleased with an on-screen kiss. Not that I’ll allow his jealousy to stand in my way. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I’d be crazy to let it go.

Tori scoffs. “I don’t understand why you’re still with him. Honestly. He keeps freeloading at your place when it suits him, yet he brings nothing to the table. Have you asked him about the role he promised you?”

“I did, and he’s still beating around the bush.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised,” she says dryly.

“You assume he’s going to double-cross me, but I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt. Logan knows how much I want to get my foot back in the industry. I doubt he would go back on his promise.”

My verbal confidence is much stronger than what I feel inside, though. Since lately, Logan has been giving me a weird vibe. It’s more than his reluctance to commit. I can’t put my finger on it, but something about him feels off.

“I hope to God I’ll never have to say, ‘I told you so’, sweetie,” Tori replies as I steer the car into the parking lot of the studio. “For your sake, I hope he follows through.”

Happy that we can’t continue this conversation, I shift the gearstick in park as she wishes me good luck for the audition. By the time I walk down the concrete sidewalk, past the reflective windows, enter the lobby where the receptionist takes my information and gives me an access pass, then step into a brightly lit waiting room, I realize how much I’m going to need it.

Doppelgangers.

Is the first word that crosses my mind as I close the door behind me and greet my competition with a tentative smile. Platinum blonde hair, icy blue eyes, slender physique… it’s almost like staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Almost.

There are five other girls sitting in a row of cushioned chairs. Five girls who look like me. Well, except for what they’re wearing. They’re all dressed fabulously, their casual outfits appropriate for the occasion. I glance down at myself, wishing I had time to go home and change.

It only takes a few seconds to notice that, despite wearing trendy jeans and cute tops, they’re just as nervous as I am. Maybe even more. Shaking legs, chewing of fingernails, quivering voices muttering lines from the script. They all send forced smiles my way as I take a seat beside them, facing a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.

After taking a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, I open the script Tori sent me on my phone. Luckily for me, it’s a simple eight-liner, a tiny challenge for my elephant memory—

“Ladies, I’m Jared Levine,” a soft, musical voice interrupts my thoughts. I glance up to see a guy wearing tight jeans with pink hair scrutinizing us. “I’m the assistant to the film director, and I’ll be overseeing your auditions forEspionagetoday. In a few minutes, I will call your name, and you will meet me in the casting room next door, followed by a read, after which we may ask you to do a short screen test.” He gives a little smirk. “Emphasis on the‘may’, ladies, so please, give it your best shot.”

My nervous tension immediately heightens when he looks me over, his expression clearly saying, “Did you really wear that garbage?”

“You have two minutes before we begin. Get ready.” With another once-over at me, he whips around and sashays out the door. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I smooth down the pleats on my skirt. I’m going to need all my sass and charm to sell my performance. This outfit is already making me lose marks.

One by one, each name gets called, and each girl hurries to the next room. My body shakes as I wait, and I get even more terrified when I hear the audition going on next door. The casting director sounds like a dream—well, more like a nightmare.

“A rock stone has more personality. Next!”

Jesus.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my sides as the second girl comes flying out in tears. The third girl gets called, then the fourth, and each one returns with expressions that tells me this requires more than learning lines, being sassy and charismatic. My name gets called, and as I approach the door to the audition room, the words confirm what I thought.

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