Page 49 of First Impressions of You

“I can’t have black coffee. I bring mine because I put milk in it,” I say, then realize I own him no explanation. “And it’s none of your business what I drink or not.”

The cinematographer call us to start the shooting not long after I’ve finished my cookie.

These short clips are something new the park is doing this year. With the rise of video-based social media, they realized they could take advantage of it to promote the show. The clips don’t reveal much about the plot; they’re just teasers designed to leave the audience wanting to know more about that play.

They have us basically run through our entire scene together, asking us to repeat some movements, to gaze into each other’s eyes, to stop mid-motion. It’s such repetitive, mechanical work, I almost forget it’s Winter who’s playing opposite me. For a few minutes, I’m immune to his presence.

When the cinematographer says he’s got enough material, the photographer steps in again for the posed pictures. She places both of us on the right spot for the best lighting and turns us to face each other.

“I want some shots of the two of you just looking at each other,” she explains, a hand on my left shoulder and the other on Winter’s right one.

Taking a deep breath, I turn my head up, our gazes locking together. His breathing falters for a split second before he’s back in control. I swallow a sudden swell of feels. We haven’t interacted at all outside rehearsals, and suddenly I have to look into his eyes and pretend I’m in love with him. Again, my traitorous body goes against my brain and reacts to him in a way that makes me hate myself. But I’m not the only one suffering through this. I can see in the way his jaw is clenched that Winter’s not enjoying this either.

“Davis,” the photographer calls out, “can you look at her like you love her, not like you want to get away from her?”

I hear a snicker coming from her assistant, but I don’t find it funny. I’m uncomfortable as is, knowing he’d rather be anywhere but here with me. Especially because right now, when it’s just the two of us, standing so close to each other, his cologne flooding my senses, I forget why I hate him so much.

“Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat. “I was distracted.”

Like he so easily does when we’re rehearsing, Winter flips a switch in his brain, and suddenly, the eyes that are looking at me are the eyes of a soulmate who’s finally reunited with his other half. He’s Arthur. But when he raises a hand and places on my chin, tilting it up slightly, and my own hands move at their own accord, resting on the firmness of his chest, it’s hard to remember that it’s Melina who he’s touching, and not Luiza.

“Great.” The photographer’s voice cuts through the silence, snapping me out of the spell that Winter’s eyes have cast on me. Just like that, his eyes harden again, the look of love and longing disappearing from his face.

I wish I could turn my feelings on and off so easily like that. Maybe that’s what great actors can do.

I’m on my way out of the dressing room when I start hearing voices drifting down the hallway from the studio. We’re in a different building today, a production cabin located on the front lot, where the big sound stages are spread out and actors come and go all the time.

I never felt so important like I did today, showing my pass at the front gate and walking right alongside the lead of one of Olivia’s favorite TV shows. Well, she was in her car while I was walking. But still, we arrived at the same time, at the same place.

The grey production cabin we’re in consists of two photography studios, a kitchen area, four small dressing rooms, and a waiting lounge. It isn’t so small that two productions can’t happen at the same time, but it isn’t too big either that from the lounge I can’t hear what they’re saying in the studio when the door is open.

“Davis is much better-looking in person,” a high-pitched voice says. I scoff, a part of me refusing to acknowledge that I agree with her. “And I was expecting him to be a douchebag, but he’s so nice.”

“I know,” another voice replies. This one is more affected by a valley accent. That fried effect crisping the words and grating on my nerves. “And you won’t believe what I heard,” she says, clearly excited about the gossip she’s about to share. There’s a tiny part of me that feels bad for eavesdropping, but I’m too curious to care.

“What?”

“Apparently,” the affected voice continuous, “Winter kind of like saved Cam from a gold digger. I didn’t get names, but I heard it was someone being with him for interest, you know? Then, like, Winter told him that. Opened Cam’s eyes. Apparently, they’re like super close. I didn’t know they were friends like that. Anyway, Cam broke it off with the girl, so he’s back in the market.”

I don’t listen to anything after the squeal of excitement they share at the news. My blood turns icy in my veins. I don’t need the names to know who they’re talking about.

It’s Winter’s fault that Cam dumped Julia. It’s his fault that my sister is hurting like I never seen her hurt before. She’s brokenhearted because Winter is a piece of shit with trust issues.

I feel my heart beating in my throat. I see red. If I could, I’d find Winter right now and…and… I’m not sure what I’d do because I can’t harm him physically, not with him being a good foot taller than me and a lot stronger, but I’d make him regret the day his path crossed with mine.

Chapter 14

“How was the photoshoot?” Emily asks as Winter and I walk into rehearsal the next day. Neither of us say anything, and she eyes us with question marks floating above her head.

“It was good,” I finally answer, and that seems to appease her.

I’ve put on my mask, and I’m determined to not let Winter ruin this for me any more than he already has. If I can just keep my distance and remember that this is all about Melina and Arthur and not about me and Winter, then I think I’ll be fine.

Except that I’m not.

Because Melina is feeling betrayed, she’s hurt, and unlike Winter, I have a fucking hard time separating my feelings from hers. This stupid body of mine can’t discern when I’m acting from when I’m not. I feel every emotion down to my core, and my body feels drained out of energy halfway through the scene.

I blame the exhaustion for what happens next. When Arthur tries to convince Melina that he’s not the villain she thinks he is, Winter’s voice is so soft, his eyes so warm and inviting, a tear slips down my cheek, and he catches it with his thumb.

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