Page 101 of Lights, Camera, Love

I’ve missed you so fucking much.

‘Coming in?’ she asks, tilting her head towards the theatre’s brightly lit entrance.

‘Yeah.’

Resisting a craving to link my fingers with hers, I fall into step beside her as we answer each other’s nervous-sounding questions with mumbled responses.

It’s all small talk: where I’m staying (a hotel nearby), how my flight up here was (bumpy), and if she’s still living in the inner west (her mum has moved out and Evie’s planning on finding a new place soon, too).

I don’t tell her how well things have been going at Angel Care; how I feel like I’ve finally found a role I care about and want to stay in. I also leave out the fact that I’ve been in therapy for the past year, learning some new ways of coping with my traumatic memories that seem to be working well. Nor is this the right moment to tell her that Jace and I have been exchanging lettersfor months now and have even spoken on the phone a few times. He’s still distant, and I know it could take years to melt down the thick wall of ice that’s frozen between us, but the first layer has thawed, and I can’t ask for much more than that.

Stepping into the theatre foyer feels like being sucked into a noisy hurricane; all around me there are faces I’d rather forget.

‘Holy shit, it’s Kyle,’ barks the gruff voice of a certain screenwriter I know.

I turn to Jakob and force out a smile because I’m a judgemental prick who can’t bring myself to do it naturally.

‘Kye,’ I correct as I shake the meaty hand poking from his tatty suit jacket. My fingers come back sweaty.Ugh. ‘How’s that computer virus film coming along?’ I mutter politely.

Jakob’s brows slide up; he looks pleased I remembered. ‘I’m still working on it. Funding has been an issue; the studio wants some changes to the script.’

I bet they do.

‘Apparently,’ he continues with a sceptical frown, ‘it’s impossible for a single computer virus to bring down every computer system on Earth simultaneously.’

‘You don’t say.’

Evie’s eyes are bouncing between us, and every time they brush the side of my face, I lose all sense of time and space.

Jakob taps a sausage-shaped finger against his lips. ‘But I figure that an elite secret US military group could have been hiding some sort of secret master code that controls every online system—’

Judy, one of the line producers fromMoving,takes hold of Jakob’s shoulder and asks us if she can borrow him for something that evidently can’t wait.

‘Of course,’ Evie says.

After they scurry away, I say, ‘Remind me to send Judy a “thank you” card. You can sign it if you want.’

She lets out a nervous laugh. ‘Come on; I’ll show you where they’re hiding the drinks.’

She leads me over to the bar, where I peruse the unappetising cocktails and decide on a beer.

‘Does Austin know you’re here?’ she asks, glancing at me.

‘No. Actually, I didn’t tell anyone I was coming because—well, I wasn’t sure if I would.’

A little line upsets her brow as she blinks away, and I tilt my face back into her eyeline. ‘Because I had to manage something at work—a politician was planning to visit Angel Care,’ I explain. ‘But the minister ended up rescheduling at the eleventh hour, so I jumped on a plane.’ I curl my lips up in a smile, and her eyes dip to my mouth. A stream of molten liquid thrums beneath my skin.

I’m still in love with you.

‘Kye?’ utters a familiar voice.

I spin to meet Austin’s goggle-eyed stare.

‘Hey,’ I say, stepping forward to offer him a brief hug.

Austin turns a little rigid in my embrace. It’s not like we haven’t spoken at all since I moved away, but it’s been a couple of months.

‘Oh, wow—Kye.’ Rafael brushes past Austin to give me a one-armed hug. He must’ve snagged a ticket through Evie. He shifts closer to Austin and their fingertips rub together; a deliberate touch that’s so lightning-fast, most people would miss it.

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