“Maybe you’ll get your recognition.”
And all-too soon we’re sliding into a park. I fiddle with the seatbelt, taking my time. Do I ask how long he’s hanging around? Will he watch? Is he here to check out Logan?
“I’ll walk you there,” Trent murmurs, and then we’re strolling side by side, towards the cordoned off area of George Street. Fake bunting hangs between lampposts, old Holdens and Morris Minors are parked along the kerb, and there’s a newsstand readingManawatu Evening Standard, April 15 1976.
“Grandpa’s hat fits perfectly,” he says.
“About to be immortalised on screen.” I rub my nape below it. “So if it ever falls apart, we’ll always have the memory.”
“Falls apart? Or you lose it again?”
I poke my tongue out.
He laughs.
I don’t want to leave his space, and that’s precisely why I must. Hurry!
Abruptly, I wave him a good day, spin on my heel and jog over to Logan lounging at a lamppost behind the cameras. I feelTrent’s gaze prickling on my back, and throw an arm around Logan’s neck. “Here!”
Logan’s surprised but goes with it, slapping my back. “Been full on this week. Bet you’re looking forward to some time off.”
I use the excuse to drop my head to his shoulder. “Tiiiired alright.”
Slowly, I pull away.
There, he’s seen. He’ll have turned away now.
I glance surreptitiously?—
He’s still there. Watching.
I’m saved from thinking too much by orders for extras to head to makeup. I busy myself in set-up tasks, and then rolling takes. I crash through the lovers, parting them, over and over.
From afar, he still watches. Between takes, I laugh a little too loudly and move with a little too much bounce. I don’t meet his eyes, but I make sure to keep touching Logan’s arm, shoulder—I even pick a fallen petal from his hair.
Finally, the director has the shots he wants. I’m helping pack up. Other extras are leaving, I’m taking down bunting until Logan’s pulling me away. Reminding me I’m not being paid for that.
Logan murmurs about it being a good day and delivers me to Trent, who’s sitting on a public bench.
Logan says, “Suppose you have a ride back, then?”
I swallow thickly.
Trent rises, taller than Logan, agreeing without so much as a smile.
Logan turns to me and wishes me a good evening.
I rock on my feet and call as he walks off. “Let’s do dinner in Wellington soon.”
“Sure!”
I keep staring after him until Trent steps into my line of sight and dips his head to catch my gaze. There’s a spark in his eye andhis skin is crinkled around the mouth, leaving the impression he’s just smiled.
“You should’ve kissed his cheek,” he murmurs, “for maximum irritation.”
He cocks his brow. Not at all jealous. Accepting. Amused.
Amused, like... I groan. “You’ve seen through me.”
