We still hadn’t filmed the shower scene. The one Jessica and I had ‘practiced’ in my apartment. The one that hadn’t felt like practice at all. It’d felt real. But it was so hard to tell what was real and what was fake with Jessica.
Truthfully, it all felt real. Every kiss and every word she spoke in the script felt like she was putting genuine feeling into it. It was driving me out of my mind. How was she that good at acting? No wonder she’d landed so many roles. Forget the audience—she could even convince me she was in love with me.
Today’s filming had been extra hard. We’d gone on location to film a pool scene. It was supposed to be the first time we kissed on screen and Jessica’s character was taunting mine with her usual sexual innuendo. There was the tense locker room scene where we stole glances at each other. Then, as I came out of the water, she grabbed me in a kiss that was so passionate, it was impossible to tell myself that none of this was real.
I couldn’t stand it! Couldn’t stand having Jessica for a few hours, then going home alone to my dank, dark hole. I tried to remind myself that with the small paychecks coming in, I could at least afford to feed myself a little better and the stress of being behind on bills had stopped choking me
so much.
I should’ve been happy.
And I was.
For the few hours a day I was with Jess.
But all the other hours? Those ones, I just missed her. Because not only had Jessica and I stopped ‘practicing’ together, we’d stopped hanging out at all. I guess she was busy with Oliver. There were new photos of them almost every night. They were always smiling and laughing and looking at them fucking killed me.
I needed to find that for myself, I thought as I walked home alone after filming. This crush I was developing on Jessica wasn’t good for me. It was completely messing with my head, and even though I was in heaven for the moments I was with her, it then became miserable to know that it was all fake. Like waking up from the same beautiful dream to come back to my shitty life. And then doing it the next day, and the next.
It was Friday and I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was collapse at home but I decided that I had to go out. I had to go somewhere and meet people who I could form real relationships with. I couldn’t curl up with a Madeline Steven’s book every time I felt depressed. That wouldn’t solve anything.
Instead of cuddling up with my own misery, I headed out purposefully to a night of clubbing. I had one thing on my side: my determination. I was completely dedicated to getting over this Jessica thing. I wanted my thoughts back—the ones that didn’t revolve around her. If I was going to become obsessed with someone, it might as well be someone I could actually have.
***
The line to get into the club seemed to stretch forever in front of me, making me wish I’d used the bathroom before I’d left the house. I’d chosen the most exclusive club on the strip, either as an example of my determination, or because I secretly wanted this to fail.
Another group of people walked past me after being turned away by the bouncer. Why had I thought this would be a good idea? Standing there doing nothing only gave me more time to think about… that girl I wasn’t supposed to think about.
I’d texted a couple of my friends, but I didn’t hold out hope that they would respond. Or they’d say they would come out, but it would be a lie. People could be so phony. Yet another thing I loved about Jess. She wore it all out there for everyone to see.
I bit the inside of my cheek as I caught myself going there again. I would not think about Jessica, or about how sweet she was, or about how happy she made me with her ditsy smile. Nope, wasn’t going to think about it.
When I finally reached the front of the line, I gave the bouncer my I.D.
“Amelia Earhart?” He looked up at me. “Like the pilot?”
“I guess so.” I tried not to look annoyed. That joke had gotten old by the time I was ten.
“Oh!” His face lit up with recognition. “You’re the girl from that gay movie.”
“Uhh, yup. You’ve heard of it?” Would that be how people remembered me from now on? As the girl from that gay movie?
“Yeah, looking forward to seeing it.” He held out a meaty fist, which I awkwardly fist bumped, noticing the tattoo across his knuckles that read: FK H8.
The bouncer passed my ID back to me and stepped aside for me to enter. Damn. That kind of thing never happened to me. Who would have thought being the girl from that gay movie would come with such perks?
For all it’s exclusivity, the club was exactly like every other club I’d ever been in. Too loud. Too crowded—hell, I needed a drink. But first I needed a bathroom.
I scanned the crowd as I fought my way to the restrooms. I was keeping my eye out for a guy I might find attractive, but maybe I should’ve been looking for a woman?
I still hadn’t quite figured that part of my sexuality out, to be honest. I knew I liked Jess. A lot. But was it just her personality that attracted me to her or could I really be interested in women for their bodies? I’d have to keep an open mind, I guess.
I found the bathroom, made quick use of it, and came out with a new determination. I ordered a vodka and cranberry at the bar and looked out at the room of writhing bodies, seeing a world of possibilities. Any one of these people could be my soulmate. All I had to do was approach them.
Just as I took a bold step forward, I spotted the last person on earth who I wanted to see. No, not Jess—my ex—the guy who cheated on me. The guy who currently had his arms around two different women. I couldn’t believe I ever actually dated Chad. How had I not realized what a loser he was?
Just seeing him made my stomach sour, and I suddenly wanted to go home, but his eyes met mine and he made a beeline for me. Fuck. What the hell was he doing approaching me after he cheated on me for months and dumped me like a sack of trash?