Page 5 of Lights, Camera, Love

Groucho’s furrowed eyes flash to mine for a second before he walks over to the black-painted wall and rests against it, pushing his hands into his pockets. Honestly, the slouchy poses and the eternal frown—it’s like this guy thinks the whole world is a high-fashion shoot in which he’s required to look hot and tortured.

‘Hey, Kye?’ Austin twists to face Groucho. ‘Can you book me in for a hot stone massage after this? My back’s going to hell in a hen basket.’

Wait, shouldn’t that behandbasket?

Austin rolls his shoulders while Groucho—who’s apparently named Kye—obediently pulls out his phone and thumbs through it.

‘We ready?’ Austin barks impatiently.

Buzz scurries into place behind the monitor. ‘Let’s do it.’ He cues the camera and sound to roll, then dramatically cries, ‘Action!’

Panic steamrolls through my body, and all I can see is Kye standing with one foot up against the wall and his arms folded, watching me with that same sulky stare he had in my dance class.

Right from the first line, I fumble the whole damn scene. I forget a critical moment entirely and get several lines wrong, and when Austin summons real tears while talking about the daughter’s refusal to utter a word since her mother’s death, my face may as well be one of the stones he’s about to be massaged with—utterly devoid of expression.

I’mterrible, and a big part of that is because this Kye guy is standing right in my sightline, glowering at me like I just stole his girlfriend. Blood rushes to my cheeks. I need to do the whole scene again.

‘Cut!’ Buzz calls. He hunches over the desk and sets his chin in his laced fingers, his brow tight with thought. After three ice ages and several yawns from Austin, Buzz announces, ‘I think we’ve got everything we need.’

My stomach pitches. ‘You don’t want to run the scene again?’

‘Nope. We’re done.’

My eyes flicker to Austin, who’s exchanging a brow-raised glance with Kye that I’m pretty sure says:Did you see how bad she was? OMG, what a joke.

‘Okay.’ I mumble my thanks to Buzz and the casting directors while trying to force my gut out of my throat.

I may not be the world’s most experienced actor, but it’s not like this was my first time performing lines. It’s in my genes if nothing else—my mum was a professional actor for years, and my biological father has won three Best Actor awards at the Oscars, for goodness sake. I can do much better than I did today, but there were too many distractions throwing me off my game, like my future husband being here and this Kye guy’s standoffish, hostile energy.

‘Right; I’m outta here,’ Austin grumbles, snatching his fedora off a stool. ‘All the best to you, darlin’,’ he says to me. His words are the kiss of death.

I force out a grateful smile. ‘Thanks. You, too. I hope to see you again.’

‘Only if you’re LA-bound.’ He tosses me a wink. ‘I’m heading back there right after this gig.’

‘Ah, okay. Well, best of luck in Hollywood.’

My stomach sinks as I drag my feet to the doorway, halting to glance back at Kye.

‘Might see you at hip-hop class,’ I call out to him a little saltily, which isn’t like me. Austin’s head whips towards Kye, whose brows snap together like I just exposed a secret.

So, he doesn’t want people in this room to know he dances hip-hop—I can’t bring myself to feel bad about that. There’s nothing wrong with men dancing, and anyway, as far as I’m concerned, Groucho’s steely stareis what cost me this job. Not only could I have used the money to help bail my mum out of her financial mess, but this film could’ve opened doors for me as a performer that will now remain bolted shut.

Not to mention all the on-screen kissing I would have done with Austin Reynolds, or the fact that it could’ve led to more. My heart actuallystingsat that realisation.

Groucho’s dark eyes shift back to mine across the room, and I give him a long, final, farewell stare. I’m generally easily won over by people, and I like almost everyone I meet. But I just don’t like this guy, and I really hope Idon’tsee him in my dance class again.

CHAPTER 2

Evie

I’m twisting my hair into a top-knot to hold it back for tonight’s dance class when my phone lights up with a call from my agent.

I tuck the phone into my chin. ‘Hey, lovely,’ I say to Martina. ‘Pleasetell me you have an audition for a well-paying music video that I’m perfect for. Bonus points if it’s for Troye Sivan.’

‘Nope.’ The glint in her voice makes my spine straighten. ‘I’m calling to congratulate you,Constance.’

I spin away from the mirror, my mouth falling open. ‘You’re not serious.’

---