"You're a genius," I say, pulling her into a quick hug. "I'm so lucky that I get to work with you!"
"Ok, ok, enough," she says, brushing me off. "Go check in with Grant before you're late for Honey Pine. If he gets us permission to shoot up there, this film will be unstoppable."
She's right. Shooting at Honey Pine is almost impossible, thanks to strict environmental regulations. But if anyone can make it happen, it's Grant Hall.
I leave Edie with a smile and cut through the backlot toward the executive offices on the backside of the property. My eyes linger on all the storefront façades, marveling at the special details and effects Hollywood puts in place to bring stories to life. I still pinch myself that this is my life.
As I near the offices, I spot Grant descending the stairs of the development offices next to his. The sight stops me in my tracks. His long strides carry him with an effortless confidence, and when he rakes a hand through his hair, his shirt pulls taut across his chest. It's unfair how good he looks. I've spent so much time imagining what's under those suits.
Less than a year ago, I only knew him by reputation—a powerful, unattainable figure. He's earned it for unearthing boxoffice gold. But all I can think about right now is how much I'd like to unearth him.
"Hey, Sophia," Grant says, his smile lighting up his face as he approaches. "Wasn't expecting you yet."
His presence is magnetic, but I try to play it cool. "Stopped in early to check on Edie. The set looks amazing."
"I took a peek last night. It's fantastic." He gestures toward his bungalow. "Walk with me? I need to grab a change of clothes before we head out."
I follow him, excited to step inside the historic space. We walk inside, where his admin is set up in a cozy living-room-style setting complete with couches and chairs. She looks like part of the décor behind an inset credenza near a wall of glass that overlooks the backlot.
Down a long corridor, a door on the left opens to an office for Lucas, Grant's head of PR. Across from him is a door on the right that opens to a small private screening room, and next to it, at the end of the hall, a door opens to Grant's spacious office.
Entering Grant's office feels like stepping into Old Hollywood, a mix of timeless elegance and modern comfort. A large conference table stands off to the left, with his desk tucked beyond it in a corner of windows. An overstuffed couch and two leather club chairs complete the comfort side of the space. There's a bathroom just beyond the living space that looks more like a spa. From here, I can already see a steam closet and what looks to be a jacuzzi tub.
"Make yourself at home," Grant says, pulling a shirt and shorts from a nearby closet. "Coffee's on the minibar. I'll just be a minute."
I grab a mug and pour myself a cup, but movement catches my eye. The bathroom door has drifted open, and through the gap, I see Grant in the mirror. He's pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a lean, defined chest. My heart races as he moves to adjust his shorts, but before I can look away, his eyes meet mine in the mirror.
I jump, nearly spilling my coffee, and spin away. "I-I was just… It was open, and I didn't mean to…"
Grant steps out, fully dressed, his smirk devastatingly casual. "It's ok, Sophia," he says, his voice low and teasing. "I'm sure it's nothing you haven't seen before."
Heat floods my cheeks, and I turn back to my coffee, willing myself to act like a normal, professional adult.
"Ready to go?" he asks, tugging his shirt into place, the flex of his arms not helping my resolve.
"Yep," I say, overly bright. "How many people can say they've seen Grant Hall in shorts?"
His knowing smile sends shivers down my spine. "Not many."
And just like that, we're out the door.
We head out to his Range Rover and start the drive up I-5 into the Santa Clarita Mountains, and thankfully, the conversation is easy.
"So, how was your first week as a producer?"
"It's been incredible. And thank you again for pulling whatever strings you have to get us clearance to check out Honey Pine as a potential location."
He shifts in almost a nervous way and adjusts the vents to direct the air on his body.
"Anything for the movie," he says under his breath. Thenhe changes the subject. "I know the highlights of your career from our first lunch and your goals from our time putting togetherSurvivor, but tell me the story of Sophia. How'd you get started in all this?"
I smile. It's the same story as anyone else, really, but that he wants to know it makes my heart flutter. I'm sure I'm overreacting. I tend to read into every little thing and make it something more than it is.
"I auditioned forBeauty and the Beastin sixth grade and got the lead. I remember the seventh- and eighth-grade girls giving me the cold shoulder and talking behind my back, but I was too excited to care! The minute I got on that stage, I knew I never wanted to do anything else."
The memory brings a smile to my face.
"I was hooked. I auditioned forFrozenin seventh grade and, during spring break that year, convinced my mom to bring me down here for an open call onThe Disney Channel. The ad was vague, inviting young actors between the ages of eight and sixteen to audition for a new live-action sitcom. No prior professional acting experience was necessary, and I just had to read a scene in front of a table of casting execs and producers."
