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Enjoy
Where the lights were the dimmest and the carpets were the dampest. That’s usually where you would find Oscar Bright. He’d turn down the brightness setting on his phone and yet would still shield it with his hand just in case anyone might see his face as they passedthe quick-change room in which he was hiding.
‘Well, this is… classy,’ Olive whispered with a smile as she slunk in through the doorway after glancing back, making sure no one had followed. She closed the door behind her.
‘Shhh…!’ said Oscar, rushing to her and wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her as close to him as he could manage.
‘I’m being quiet!’ she laughedinto his shoulder. ‘Is this really the best place we could have met?’ Her green eyes squinted at the peeling wallpaper and the props and odd bits of costume strewn across the chairs that lined the walls, bits of gaffer tape with names written on them stuck above them. Then she looked at him, taking him in properly even though she’d seen him the day before. His short black hair had clearly had nothingmore than his fingers run through it that morning and the bags under his eyes were fuller than usual but even so, the blue of his irises shone down at her and his big toothy smile made her stomach lurch. As he sighed, happy to be close to her again, she caught the faint whiff of beer on his breath.
‘Were you out again last night?’ she asked, stroking his cheek.
He ignored her questionand gestured around him. ‘This is best I could do at short notice.’ He shrugged, the movement bringing her closer to his face. ‘I wanted to see you before everyone else got here.’ He squeezed her tighter.
‘Before anyone was around to see us, more like,’ she sighed.
‘Hey, now. You know it’s not like that.’ Oscar rocked her from side to side.
‘Then why are we hiding? Why arewe always finding the dingiest corners to be together in if it “isn’t like that”?’ Olive turned her face away but still stayed close to him. Oscar snaked his fingers under her blonde, sun-kissed hair and stroked the back of her neck with his thumb.
‘Okay, okay. It kind of is like that but you know it’s not because I’m hidingyou.We’rehiding.Together.’
She raised her eyebrows,her lips pursed.
‘I know this isn’t ideal,’ he went on and kissed the top of her head. ‘But it’s all I can really give right now.’
‘I’m not asking for a grand announcement. I don’t want fancy hotels, flash cars and cocktails on tap, Oz. That’s not me, you know that. I’m just asking for…’ The wordyougot caught on her tongue and it melted before she could say it. ‘I’m just askingfor a little more of your time. I’m asking not to be made to feel like you’re embarrassed of… whatever this is.’ She checked her phone. 8:55. ‘I’m asking to not have to meet you at the crack of dawn before rehearsals start and I’m asking if we can meet somewhere that doesn’t smell like dead mouse.’
Oscar pulled away and lifted her chin with a finger. ‘Is that what that is?’
‘Yes,Oz. That is the unmistakable smell of rotting rodent somewhere in the walls of this room.’ They both took a moment to take in the room and all its (former) glory. Although the door was closed and neither of them said it out loud, they shared the feeling that they weren’t entirely alone, but they both put it down to the adrenaline of hiding and the fear of being caught.
‘Wonderful. You don’tget many of them on set.’
‘The mice in the walls are harmless. It’s the rats in the cast you usually need to worry about.’ She pulled her face away from his touch and he noticed that the look in her eyes had grown a little colder, sadder.
‘Don’t do that.’ Oscar shook her lightly. He had seen her roll her eyes a thousand times. Heard her say things specifically designed to push himaway. Watched her harden and put up walls within seconds. Whilst he knew it was all to protect herself, he already felt tired at having to fight against the barriers she built up between them.
‘What?’ she said, fiddling with the sleeve of his T-shirt, nibbling the inside of her lip.
‘Maybe we should just forget this.’ Oscar loosened his arms around her and stepped back, but Olivestepped forward, caught his hands and put them back on her waist. ‘Olive,’ he groaned. ‘I’m not what you need.’
‘Of course you’re not,’ she admitted. ‘But you are what I want. It just sometimes feels like… I’m not whatyouwant.’Although I’m probably what you need, she thought. ‘I never feel like I’m good enough.’
Olive had been warned about Oscar when she’d found out she wouldbe working with him. He was new to the theatrical circles she’d been part of for most of her life, but he’d starred in one of the biggest soaps on television and while he wasn’t quite a household name, he was certainly becoming more recognisable. His picture had appeared in various magazines, a different girl on his arm in each of them. Apparently, he’d broken up with each and every single one ofthem in quick succession because, according to the magazines, he’d deemed them all ‘not good enough’ for him. The latest dumpee had been his on-screen girlfriend, an actress called Zadie Lanette, and now her side of the story was splashed across every tabloid that would pay her enough. As soon as Olive had met Oscar she knew she was in trouble. It wasn’t just his ridiculous good looks or his excessivecharm. It was how much he made her laugh and how at ease she felt when she knew he was just in the wings.
‘What do you mean?’ Oscar asked.
Olive looked down at her baggy grey dress and the chunky black boots that she wore nearly every day, even in the height of summer. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and her hair still had hairspray in it from rehearsals the day before. ‘I’m not exactlymagazine material. I’m not the sort of girl you’d usually go for.’
‘Magazines…? Olive, what are you talking about? I don’t care about that. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m here telling you that I like you. Doesn’t that mean anything?’
‘Of course it does!’ she said, looking up into his face. His eyebrows pulled together in a frown and she felt her chest tighten. She went back to fiddlingwith his sleeve or she’d never get out what she wanted to say. ‘It means a lot,’ she whispered. ‘You just need to know that sometimes… I’m going to feel like I don’t match up to your expectations.’
‘I have no expectations. Besides…youdon’t feel good enough, Miss Star-Of-The-West-End-Stage? People practically bow to you as you walk past. This is very much your territory. I’m the one who’sway out of their depth here.’
‘Being good at my job doesn’t have any bearing on how I feel about this, us, you,’ Olive said quietly.
