Page 9 of First Impressions of You

“Saying what?” I swallow hard as I tip my head back to look in his eyes. “Your name?”

“Yes,” he grumbles.

“Wh-why?”

“Just…” He runs a hand over his face, frustration coming off him in waves. “Just Winter, ok?” I nod, not trusting my voice to come out as anything but a shaky whisper. “And you didn’t.”

I give him a confused look.

“You didn’t do anything to offend me. It’s just that I’m used to working with professionals, is all.”

I scoff, not believing my ears. He didn’t just… Oh, the audacity.

“You know what? Fuck you, Winter.”

It’s his turn to give me a confused look, but I don’t dignify him with an explanation. I walk away, leaving the park having no idea what my future holds.

For the sake of my career, though, I pray this won’t be the last time I have to deal with Winter’s snobbish ass.

Chapter 03

It’s been a few days since the audition, and I haven’t heard back yet.

I’m trying my best not to freak out while I wait to hear. It could go either way. I’d gotten so lost in the scene that I had forgotten to be analytical about it. It was almost like I had turned my brain off and let the moment guide me. Let Melina’s feelings take the wheel. Which was a very unfamiliar feeling for me. I’ve always been very aware of my every decision in auditions. I’ve always left knowing whether I’d done a good job or not.

More often than not, I left knowing I didn’t.

Not this time, though. This time, there is a part of me holding out high hopes. A part of me I’ve tried my best to quiet down because I am scared of waiting for a yes only to be disappointed by another no.

I didn’t tell my sisters much about the audition. About how it had felt to have Winter’s body hover over mine. About how for a second, I’d forgotten we were playing characters and felt his touch so strongly, it readjusted my nervous system. I didn’t tell them that when the director called cut, I felt frustrated instead of relieved that we didn’t have to kiss.

I didn’t tell them any of that because it didn’t mean anything.

It was just a natural reaction to a very emotional scene.

I can’t fault my body for reacting to the closeness of someone objectively attractive. Not when it’s been so long. So long. My skin couldn’t know that the hands that were touching me belonged to someone who thought so little of me. Of my talent. It was all just a primal reaction.

A reaction that had been wiped off clean the moment I called out to him outside the theater, and he reminded me of his awful personality.

I can’t figure out how to reconcile how I react to Winter in such different psychological and physical ways.

If only I could easily switch in and out of character, I could blame the physical attraction on Melina and not think about it offstage. But I can’t do that like he can. I was bewildered by his ability to do so. Just as quickly as he’d gotten into character, he’d gotten out, getting up and leaving the stage without so much as offering me a hand to get up.

But now I knew it was for the best because every interaction with him just made me hate him more. The less we had to interact offstage, the better.

Which would be a lot easier if the mere thought of him didn’t conjure him out of thin air in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon.

I’m sitting with Julia outside Cine Street Café on Film Strip, enjoying the rare chance of grabbing lunch with my older sister during my break when he appears. At first, I don’t mind the person standing next to me because this is Movieland, and people tend to forget any sense of personal space when it comes to touristy places. But then I feel it.

It’s almost like my body can’t help but being aware of his presence.

I look up and find Winter and Cameron standing there, one of them smiling and the other frowning as if he rather be anywhere else.

“Luiza?” Cam’s smile is so bright I mirror it without realizing it.

“Cam, hi,” I say with a gentle wave. Looking over his shoulder, I find Winter has glued his eyes to the ground, and despite all my first instincts, I make an effort to be nice to the guy. “Hi, Winter.”

He grunts something that I can only assume is Hi, but I can’t be sure because of course he can’t greet me as a normal person. He’s too good for that. He won’t meet my eyes either, so I look away, lest he catch me staring. But in my peripheral vision, I notice him adjusting the baseball cap on his head, pulling it further down almost as if to hide his eyes.

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