My palms sweated as I approached the set. Oh God, I didn’t want to have to do this with her. I walked onto the rehearsal stage, a lead weight expanding inside my stomach, sinking down to my feet until I could hardly take another step toward Jessica.
“What’re you doing on my property?” I called out as I got closer to her.
“So this whole fancy place belongs to you?” She whistled.
“Yes. And you’re trespassing.”
“Not trespassing if you invited me in.”
“Are you crazy?” The squeaky noise coming out of my throat didn’t sound like my voice at all. “I never invited you in.”
“Because I’ve been so rudely talking and haven’t given you the chance.” She pushed past me, shoulder brushing mine. I couldn’t remember my lines. I glanced at Braelyn, who was smiling approvingly.
I stammered out a jumbled version of my next line. “If you don’t get out, you’re going to be leaving with a boot in your ass.”
She turned sharply, a laugh on her lips. “You seem awfully interested in my ass.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
I couldn’t do this.
I missed my next line and Jessica saved me with a laugh before slipping into her next bit of dialogue. I couldn’t get back into character. I wasn’t Jordan, she wasn’t Tabby. We were Amelia and Jessica, two straight girls who’d shared a weird kiss and cuddle session and now had to work together.
Jessica took a step towards me and I went rigid. I wasn’t hearing whatever garbage came out of my mouth when I opened it. I could only focus on how close she was to me and how much I wanted this to stop.
“Well, I can’t wait for your next invitation,” she said just a little awkwardly. Was she losing character because of how much I’d tripped up, or was she as uncomfortable as I was?
“Can we do that scene again?” The director frowned. “But this time, I want to feel the tension in your proximity. Tabby has come to town and learned Jordan is a young gay woman living a life of solitude. I want to feel that curiosity towards her.”
The way Jessica’s eyebrow raised suggested she really was curious about me.
The second try went even worse. My discomfort had rubbed off on Jessica and we both went through the scene woodenly, barely able to make eye contact. I practically jumped away from her when she brushed past me this time. The director was scowling by the time we got to the end of it.
He pressed her fingers to his temples and asked us to do the scene again. And again. Finally, we moved on after the fifth try.
My heart was in my feet. I struggled through the rest of the rehearsal, knowing how badly things were going. I couldn’t seem to regain my confidence for the rest of the scenes, even the ones without Jessica in them. We hadn’t even gotten to the physical stuff, but I could barely even look at her. By the end of the day, I was exhausted and felt like shit. I was going to ruin this whole movie just like I’d known I would.
When we broke for the day, I didn’t give Jessica a chance to get mad at me for screwing everything up. I grabbed my stuff as quickly as I could and bolted for the bus stop. It was raining. Perfect. Pedestrians bolted for cover, but I just sat there in the downpour because I already felt so awful that being soaking wet wasn’t going to make it any worse. It couldn’t get any worse.
Oh wait, yes it could.
A gorgeous red sports car pulled up and stopped in front of me.
“Hey, do you need a ride?” Jessica asked as the window rolled down.
“I’m good.”
“You’re soaked.”
“I said, I’m good. I don’t want to get your car wet.”
“Sorry, but I’m not the kind of person who leaves her friend at a bus stop in the rain.”
There was that word again: friend.
“Fine.” I got up, suddenly feeling cold and uncomfortable.