Okay, I guess the silence continues.A minute later we’re at the back door of the building.
“You know, for a tour guide you’re pretty quiet,” I mutter.
Roman stops walking and gives me side eye.
“Zero stars, would not recommend,” I continue.
“Oh, really?”
“You’re going to have to work harder for those stars,” I sigh.
Roman clocks me with a withering glare. “Over to your left, you’ll see Warehouse A, where they’re currently working on the production of Under Violet Skies, starring James Everett, Branson Sullivan, and Ava Anders,” he says, putting on a voice that sounds frighteningly like a tour guide. “Further behind Warehouse A, we have B, C, and D. You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can figure out what the names of the two warehouses behind D are.”
I ignore the jibe. “Where will we be filming?”
“B.”
“What’s that way?”
“More administrative buildings,” he answers.
I’m struck in that moment how strange it must’ve been to effectively grow up at a film studio. He must know this place like the back of his hand. Chancing a quick look down at his right hand, I see the compass tattooed there. I wonder what compelled him to get it, and what else he has inked on his body. His stupidly attractive body.
We walk silently beside one another, and as people pass, many of them stop to say hi to Roman, or wave and smile at him as we go by. He seems well known and liked here on the studio lot, which, to be honest, aggravates me more.Why did I have to get the jackass version of him and all these other people get the nice one?
He smiles and waves back at everyone and acts like the perfect little studio darling. When I study him smiling andwaving at a passing group of crew members, I notice the smile falters a little. It’s still there, but there’s something that looks almost hollow about it. But then again, I’m probably reading way too much into this seeing as I only met the guy yesterday.
We round the corner and step into a more secluded space where a beautiful water fountain comes into view. The sound of splashing fills the air, with water shooting up the center of the fountain in a series of rings. Walking over to the ledge, my fingers brush where the clear water flows down over the infinity pool style design.
Glimmering tiles make up the fountain’s surface, and when I look closely, I can see that there are gemstones in many of them, giving the fountain an extra magical quality. Looking down at the ring of tiles surrounding the fountain, I see the names of Starlight films inscribed on them.
I drum the surface of the water absentmindedly before turning to see Roman looking at me like I’ve grown a second head. I don’t bother explaining to him that it’s something I always need to do. If I see water, I need to go touch it. Maybe it’s like some weird form of grounding for me. The look he’s giving me makes me feel about two feet tall. He might’ve seemed sweet with everyone else, but just like that, the wall’s back up and he’s being a jerk again. It’s like Jackass and Hyde over here.
Clearing my throat and pulling my hand from the fountain, I face him and purse my lips. “What is it you wanted to discuss?”.
“Figured I’d give you the opportunity to apologize,” he says smugly.Apologize…? For what?I shake my head in confusion. When it’s clear I’m still not catching on, he continues. “For the slap.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.Playing it cool today with him has been hard enough after overhearing all the shit he had to say aboutme, and now he has the nerve to tell me that I owe him an apology? I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to punch someone in the face so badly.
A noise of disbelief leaves my mouth, and I will my hands not to make good on my desire to give him a sequel to the first slap. It takes everything in me to keep some composure and not resort to telling him where to go and what to do when he gets there.
Settling for the most diplomatic response I can, I respond through gritted teeth. “As if.”
He raises his eyebrows, and it’s clear he wasn’t expecting that answer. “Oh?”
Now I’m really going to lose it.
“Why the hell should I apologize when you were practically begging for it with all the shit you were saying during the read?” I hiss, remembering how he whispered those taunts between takes. What kind of person does that?
“If I remember correctly, what I said to you during the read ended up helping you give your best performance,” he says with a cocky smile.
“How typical, a man trying to take credit for something a woman did on her own,” I mutter as I look to the sky, silently pleading for patience from whatever deity resides there. “You didn’t do anything, Roman. My achievements aremine.”
He rolls his eyes and leans against the bench in front of the fountain. His casual posture and nonchalance is pissing me off, so I go ahead and don’t leave well enough alone.
“But I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Roman has gone still. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
