It's beena week since Grant trapped me in the bathroom at Casa Vega, demanding to know who Brandon was, and two weeks since the almost maybe kinda kiss where he flat out rejected me. I thought for sure he was going to kiss me in the bathroom or maybe lift me onto the countertop and take me right there. That might also be my wish-fulfillment fantasy. I guess I'm grateful he's staying professional and doing his best not to make it awkward.
Our schedules are hectic, but he pops by the guest house most mornings to leave me a coffee, and I've visited him at his office for production updates and to review script changes. I imagine it's a good example of what it might be like to date him in real life—a whisper of moments here and there.
I will admit that it's been nice not to feel any pressure to give more than this right now. I like how we both understand that our work is important, and I've loved spending time with Hazel and him, getting to know them both better. I tried dating a "normal" guy after Connor, but when I had to leavefor a six-week shoot in New York City, he confessed he couldn't do long distance and broke up with me. Six weeks apart was too much for him.
That's why it's so hard to date. People who aren't in the industry don't get it. They don't understand the hustle and sacrifices you make to pursue your passion. They don't understand that you've already sacrificed so much to get to your level, that the relentless pace and focus are just part of your DNA now. It doesn't feel unusual.
But dating within the industry isn't much easier. It's a catch-22. On the one hand, they get the long hours, the last-minute schedule changes, and the way a project can consume you entirely. But on the other, that means you're both always running, always chasing the next opportunity—two people constantly in motion, rarely in the same place at the same time. And if you're not careful, work becomes the only thing you have in common.
I think that's why being around Grant has felt easy. He gets it. And maybe that's all this is. He understands the life, and I'm confusing feelings with his understanding.
I can't shake how similar this feels to what it was like with Connor, though—low pressure, fun, supportive—which, in hindsight, makes sense since everything with him was a complete set-up and arrangement, unbeknownst to me. I'm an actress—a damn good one, too—so nobody knew how much Connor hurt me. Not even him. When our show wrapped and he shook my hand—that's right, shook. My. Hand—and said it was a pleasure working with me and thanks for the relationship, I wanted to melt into any substance that would allow me to disappear within seconds.
We had just cut the cake, and the wrap party had been a hilarious trip down memory lane. His actions caught me so off guard that I was still laughing. Yes, laughing. And then I kept the frozen smile on my face as I processed the confusion, the realization that it had all been a setup. I replayed so many things that started to click and make so much more sense. I hate thinking about it even now.
This is different, I tell myself. This is just a friendship, a connection built on mutual understanding. There's no arrangement, no hidden terms, no expiration date looming overhead. And most importantly, I will not be blindsided by any of it.
"Sophia! Wait up!"
I turn and see Jess Lexington running across the lot toward me, her blonde ponytail bouncing, her blue eyes smiling at me. I like Jess. She's Blair's best friend from college, and over the past year, I've come to enjoy her abrasive and over-the-top directness. I just don't trust her.
She currently hostsOn the Red Carpet, the go-to podcast for the entertainment industry. She was a reporter forDeadline,Variety, andThe Hollywood Reporter—all the places entertainment reporters, well, report. She went out on her own last year, and the pod and subsequent newsletter Substack have taken off.
She's never done me wrong, and honestly, she seems pretty reputable, but I've been in Blair's office when she's unloaded the latest gossip. She knows everything about everyone in this town. It's a little scary. What I’m never sure of is whether she considers something on or off the record.
"Hey, Jess! What brings you to the lot today?"
"Podcast record with the cast ofPink Slip."
"Oh, I love that show so much!"
"You're welcome to sit in if you want?"
"I wish. We have a full shoot day here."
Jess follows me into the sound stage and marvels at the set we've built of the main character’s home. I'll never tire of the magic of Hollywood. The way our set designers bring things to life, the props that help define the tone and timeframe of the film and bring authenticity to it all. Even the lighting is positioned through the fake windows to represent where the sun might be at that exact time of day for that scene.
"So, Grant's house, yeah?"
And here we go. But again, I'm not sure if this is reporter Jess or friend Jess.
"Yes, he really came in clutch for me. My house is a disaster. I can't believe a leak behind a tub spout could cause that much damage."
I use my media skills to try and divert the conversation to the chaos that is my poor, sweet home. It's coming along. After a few weeks, the crew has finally finished gutting everything, and the repair and rebuild is underway.
"I bet. I'm curious how long you'll stay?"
She's relentless; I can see it all over her face. Her eyes are lit up like she's about to open the first present on Christmas. I hate this part. Grant and I are just friends.
"He's been very generous to let me stay as long as I need. I think he feels sorry for me."
"Hm."
Here's where I need to lean in and shut it down. Her skepticism is at an all-time high.
"Oh, come on. Would you want to stay with Blair and Wyatt right now? And I'm not driving from my parents' house in Santa Barbara. Grant has been great and supportive throughout this entire process. And our schedules are so packed, it's like I'm not even there."
"Here's what I know for sure," she says as she lifts her hand and raises her fingers to count down the evidence she thinks she has. "He invited you to his Hamptons party when Blair, who has always been a good friend of his, has never attended—until he invited you. He picked you up for Tangerine Talent opening?—"
