Page 68 of His Every Move

“Fucking hell,” I said, dropping my head into my hands. “Why does life have to be so damn messy?”

“Because if it wasn’t, then it wouldn’t be interesting. Duh.”

“I don’t want an interesting life. I want a nice, calm, happy life.”

“You say that now. But I’ve known you for years, and I know that being bored is your archnemesis. You’d hate a simple life.”

“Fine, then maybe not simple, but, like, I don’t know, not as fucking crazy?” I sighed and took a sip of my vodka cranberry. We sat in a dark corner booth inside the steampunk-themed bar. A stuffed deer head was above Zack’s, wearing steampunk goggles and a cute little hat. “I can’t believe I’ve been dealing with a stalker and dating one at the same time.”

Zack shook his head. “I’m sorry, Eli. I hate seeing you go through this.”

“It sucks. And I was really falling for Benji. I hadn’t felt that way with anyone.Anyone.”

Zack took a long chug of his drink, setting it down on the table. He looked out toward the crowded bar. His schoolwork really must have been catching up to him because he seemed exhausted. His hair had grown out over his ears, his beard looking scruffier than usual. Zack normally had a haircut scheduled like clockwork, so seeing him like this was weird. “How have you been doing?” I said. “I feel bad I’ve been so distant. But, well, you know why.”

“I completely get it. Do I miss my best friend? Yes, obviously. Am I upset at him? Yes, also.” He gave me a wink and a smile. “Seriously, though, I’ve been doing alright. Stressed as fucking balls, but I’m acing my exams, so there’s that.”

“Are balls usually that stressed?” I mused.

“Depends on how often you handle them.” He gave me another grin. I laughed and leaned back in my seat, the dark blue cushions of the booth sinking with me.

“Then my balls are extremely stressed lately.”

“Well, you know you always have a friend in me if you need someone to help you decompress.”

That got more laughter out of me. Zack knew that I saw him more as a brother than anything else, so I didn’t take his joke too seriously. “Thanks, Zack. I knew I could always count on you.”

“I’ve got you back… and your balls.”

My phone dinged against the scratched wooden tabletop. For a split second, I expected to look down and see “Detective” written across my screen.

Dumb, dumb, dumb.

It was an email notification, the subject line reading “Self-tape audition opportunity.” I was going to send it directly to spam but figured why the hell not? If it was a scam, then I’d have just wasted a couple of hours of my life filming an audition, and if it wasn’t a scam, then…

“Hmm,” I said, setting my phone back down on the table. “Just got an audition for a featured role in a TV show filming here in the city.”

“No way, seriously? What show?”

“It doesn’t say. I guess they’ll send me the sides when I agree to the audition. I wonder how they even found me.”

“Your agent?”

“I haven’t talked to him in like a year. And he’s not cc’ed on the email.”

“Weird,” Zack said. “Can I see it?”

“Sure.” I slid the phone across the table. He looked over the email and offered me a shrug.

“Looks legit,” he said, handing me back my phone. “Maybe this could be your big break.”

“Maybe,” I echoed, my mind briefly drifting to the countless auditions I’d blown or given up on in the past. “It’s been forever since I’ve really chased acting. Life got in the way, camming took over, and I don’t know—I guess I just sort of accepted that my dreams would never really go anywhere.”

Zack gave me a stern look, eyebrows knitted together. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re talented. You’ve always been talented. You just let assholes get into your head.”

“You think so?” I asked, my voice sounding smaller than I intended.

“Of course. You lit up the stage every damn time you performed. Remember when you played Mercutio, and everyone fucking cried when you died? That was wild.”

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