Page 77 of Keep It

We sit, glancing around the room. The atmosphere is tense, the crew unused to socializing with the grumpy, celebrity talent. I silently beg for a return to normal conversation.

“Olivia was just telling us about the hotel for the party scene.” I’m going to nominate Jess for the OBE. Olivia launches into a rant about the grumpy hotel owner who kept adding charges and limiting rooms they could film in.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Danny’s jaw clench. Not one to be too upset by difficult location department situations, I can read his tension as embarrassment. But from the wary glances from the crew, I know his attitude is being mistaken for contempt.

I stand. “I’ll get the next round in.” A chorus of cheers respond.

Danny grabs my sleeve. “Don’t leave,” he hisses.

“I’ll be two minutes. Just say something funny.” The icy glare he gives me makes me smirk. I’m half tempted to sourly pat him on the head as I pass, and I can’t resist running my fingers quickly through the fine hairs at the back of his neck. Cursing myself a fool and praying no one notices my lack of judgment, I wander towards the bar. It would be just my luck to accidentally expose our relationship to the whole crew right at the end of it. Maybe this is why we’ve never really ventured further than my apartment or his hotel room. The easy tactile relationship we nurtured in the dark is hard to hide in the light.

At the bar, I quickly remember the state of my bank account now I no longer have an income and curse myself for my generous plan. Still, I order two bottles of wine and a tray of tequila. As I rummage in my bag for my purse, I glance over my shoulder and see Danny slumped in his seat, playing on his phone.

My phone chimes.

Danny: Come back right now

I roll my eyes.

Another chime.

Danny: And bring wine.

Pocketing my phone, I tell the bartender in French, “Start a tab. My friend will pay.”

He nods and passes me my drinks.

Triumphantly returning to the table, loud jeers sound as I place the tequila on the table.

“On a school night?” Devon asks.

“Not for me,” I reply.

“We’re in at one tomorrow Dev,” someone says. “You’ll make it.”

I hand a shot to Danny.

“I think this is a bad idea,” he mutters.

“Too late, you’ve got a tab.” I cheerfully clink my shot glass to his and we throw the alcohol down our throats.

He holds eye contact and I feel heat lick down my spine with the tequila.

“Ah, of course, you’re welcome.”

I grin impishly and lick a drip of tequila from the corner of my lip. His eyes track the movement.

“Let’s play a drinking game,” Charlie, one of the camera guys, suggests. There are some mumbles of discontent, but I remember that Rosie’s fool proof plan for diffusing awkwardness at a party is a good drinking game.

“Let’s do it,” I say.

Drinks are poured and seats are rearranged as Olivia announces we’ll play Never Have I Ever.

“Never have I ever…” Olivia says, “broken a bone.”

Glasses raise.

Someone else pipes up. “Never have I ever stolen anything from set.”

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