Page 48 of How Jenna Became My Dilemma

I just need everyone to think I’m a better person so I can continue working in this industry and stay relevant in the public’s eye.

Right? That’s what I’m doing all this for.

Yeah, that sounds right.

“I think those are all the notes Quinton wanted me to tell you.” Naomi flips through her script, jarring me out of my pathetic thoughts.

“Sounds good, thanks.” I hope I didn’t miss anything important when I wasn’t listening.

Quinton walks on set, turning to look at the entire crew as he speaks. “Are we ready to work?”

Jenna hops out of her chair, walking to where I stand.

“I like your costume,” I say, breaking the ice. Lately, every interaction I’ve had with her is me trying to break the ice. I’m basically carrying around a pickaxe like how other men carry pocket knives.

Her eyes sweep over her dress. “I think the pretty clothes are the best part of working on this show.”

“I thought for sure you were going to say working with me was the best part.”

Why am I flirting with her? She’s not interested. I’m not interested. I’ll just chalk it up to building chemistry. Everything can go under that umbrella.

“You wish working with you was the best part,” she mutters with a small smile.

I’ll take that as a win.

“Let’s see how well my little experiment worked this weekend.” Quinton walks toward us, draping his arms over both of our shoulders, leading us farther into the garden. “I have a really good feeling about this next scene. And if your chemistry is anything like those pictures from Malibu, then we’re in for a treat.”

Jenna’s gaze flicks to me and then down to the ground.

Quinton releases us and spins around, looking at the crew of over one hundred and fifty people. “Renna is sitting on the cement wall in the garden, talking to her father but really to herself because he’s dead. We just filmed that scene.” He nods at Jenna as if she wasn’t already aware of what they just filmed. “Trev’s going to walk in”—he gestures to the pathway that leads into the garden—“say his lines, and join her sitting on the wall.” Quinton shifts his gaze to me. “Naomi went over the notes with you on the overall vibe of the scene?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got it.” Mostly. I got a little sidetracked thinking about Jenna.

“Good. Everything should be cut and dry with blocking since the two of you aren’t really moving, and there’s no touching.”

No touching.

Something about that is very disappointing.

There’s the longing again.

I long to touch Jenna, and since I can’t touch her in real life or in our chemistry practice lessons, all I’m left with is the show, which is unfortunate since my character is engaged to be married to another character who isn’t Jenna’s. Rough life.

Quinton turns and looks at the cameramen. “I want to go through a few last-minute changes with camera angles and lighting.” He shouts some commands, ignoring Jenna and me completely.

“Hey”—I lean in so we can have a private conversation, dismissing how the closeness sends my body into overdrive—“I’m sorry about the pictures and the story about us being in a secret relationship. If I had known there were paparazzi in Malibu, I never would’ve touched you like that.”

Or touched you like that and liked it.

“You make it sound like we were caught in bed together.” She smirks, spinning my stomach into a tornado. “Last I checked, we were just dancing.”

And we almost kissed, but clearly, Jenna wants to block that part out of her mind. Honestly, so do I—selective memory at its finest—because at that moment, things felt really real to me.

“Right, it was just a dance.” I shrug it off.

“Besides, I was the one that suggested we go outside, so there’s nothing for you to apologize about.”

“And now we’re dating, not in secret.” I scratch my forehead. “That’s going to be crazy, huh?”

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