Page 4 of Lights, Camera, Love

My jaw drops.Holy shit.Is that …

‘Austin Reynolds,’ I blurt through a stunned laugh.

One side of his mouth kicks up, mirroring the smirk that was pinned to my wall throughout my adolescence. In high school, my friends and I used to have fiery spats over ‘who loved Austin Reynolds the most’. We would dare each other to risk suspension by skipping school so we could be the first to see the Aussie heartthrob in his latest Tate Hunter spy movie. I wasobsessedwith this guy in high school, but after he stopped doing those Australian thrillers, he fell off the radar. I vaguely remember reading that he’d gone over to the States a couple of years ago to have a crack at the big time, but I haven’t seen him in anything coming out of Hollywood.

Except now, he’s right here, standing in front of me with—my eyes slip south—no wedding band.Eeep!Perhaps he’s been waiting to meet the one woman who makes him forget all the rest. Is it so ridiculous to imagine that could beme?

I mean, I’m just throwing it out there. This whole moment feels like a meet-cute from one of his movies. My stomach fizzes hotly at the thought.

A stout man with a mop of frizzy auburn hair steps into my view and stretches out a clammy hand.

‘Thank you for coming in, Evie,’ he says, giving me a limp handshake and telling me his name is Brian, but that I can call him Buzz.Ah, this is the film’s director.With a ripple of nerves, I thank him for inviting me.

‘I’m the nephew of Harold Winter,’ he says out of nowhere. ‘The dance video that your agent sent in wasincredible.’ Buzz’s eyes sweep down and up my body.

My skin prickles against his intense gaze. ‘Thank you.’

Buzz heads over to the monitor desk, and the woman with the glasses introduces me to the rest of the casting team while I try not to gawk atAustin-freaking-Reynolds. He also shakes my hand (I lose breath from the physical contact) and says, ‘How you doin’, darlin’?’ His electric-blue eyes rake over my purple dance leggings and white crop top. Even though I won’t be dancing today, Mum told me I should dress like my character. That always worked well for her when she was a young actress working in LA.

It finally clicks why Austin is here: he must be playing the part of Jamie inMoving! That means if I win this role, we’ll be co-stars. We’ll fall in love on-screen, and then maybe, justmaybe, real life could imitate art … My cheeks heat up as I imagine the moment we get to kiss each other for the first time and realise that what we’re feeling isn’t just for show, and that the true love story being told is—

‘Rightio, she’s got the part!’ Austin blurts over his shoulder, addressing the crew. Buzz chortles as he leans against the desk, arms crossed over his thick, knitted jumper of swirling rainbow colours. What is Austin talking about? I haven’t done any acting yet.

The actor glances at his watch. ‘Can we get started, Buzz? I’ve got a shit-ton of stuff to do.’

‘All right, get into your positions,’ Buzz directs from the desk. ‘Notthosepositions,’ he adds with a snort, and one of the camera guys chuckles through his nose.It takes me a minute to register the innuendo; I’m too nervous to think about anything other than the lines I’m about to perform.

Austin steps in beside me, a crew member flicks a switch, and light floods the face of my teenage crush.

He can’t be any older than thirty-five, but thin lines sprout from the corners of his eyes, and his skin has a slightly leathery look like he’s spent too much time in the sun.

He’s staring back at me just as intently. ‘You’re seriously stunning, Evie. Has anyone ever told you that you look like—’

‘Brooke Shields,’ I finish with an awkward blush; it’s been said to me at least a thousand times. I point just above my eyes. ‘It’s the brows.’

‘It’s theeverything,’ he replies, and my knees buckle. Is this how I meet my soulmate?

Buzz smacks his palms against the table. ‘Okay, let’s get set!’

Another round of jitters whips up my stomach, and I mentally sink into the mindset of Constance.

Suddenly, the double doors behind me push open with a thump, jerking me back to reality. A deep voice apologises for being late.

I hear an irritated huff—I think it’s from Buzz—and Austin gives the intruder a bright-eyed smile over my shoulder. ‘You’re good, bro. We’ll be done soon.’

The late arrival steps through the beams of light, shooting me a quick glance. He does a double takewhile my brain takes a moment to register the familiar, strikingly handsome face.

Oh my god, it’s Groucho from dance class!

‘Hey,’ I say with a big smile of recognition.

All he offers me is a curt nod. He turns back to Austin to tug the fedora off his head, then ruffles up the actor’s curls, styling them.

What on earth is happening right now?

‘Can we move that light a little closer to Evie?’ I hear Buzz mutter to someone. ‘It’s casting some interesting shadows, which I’d like to play with.’

Groucho continues to preen Austin like a show dog while a crew member steps between us to jerk one of the lights closer to my face. I notice again how well Groucho is dressed—this time in tapered black jeans, a grey hooded T-shirt and a pale denim jacket. Is he Austin’s stylist?

---