“I could never do that…”
Holden pulls the beast that is Charlie off me, leaving me to deal with the slimy residue left on my face. For the second time today, he is peeling me off the ground.
As soon as our hands touch, I feel the zap through my fingertips. An electric sensation that leaves me bewildered. Must be the dry air or this tweed rug I fell onto…
“I should go. I’ve already wasted too much of your time…”
“I am not complaining.”
“I’m not really sure why I am here…” I bite my lip, holding on to the necklace.
“Charlotte, you are fine. I’ve seen you on your phone staring at a list. Go ahead and finish it.”
I lift my chest up and down, exhaling deeply. His voice seemed warm and genuine this time—no ounce of teasing.
“The next one is more drastic. We go on a podcast of your choosing, go loud and public immediately about your dissatisfaction with the industry.
“We pivot that, hoping media buzz is good enough to get you on a fast track to an indie movie. We want people to think you take your craft seriously. The money was never a concern.”
“It never was,” he snaps back, opening the sliding glass door that he slips through.
This man really doesn’t like to sit still. The dogs trail behind and I find myself doing the same.
“So what do you think?” I ask cautiously, bringing the beer bottle to my mouth, following him to the kitchen.
If he hates it, then I’m definitely not cut out for this. I will become a dog walker or even a part-time yoga instructor. Once again, he says nothing. His attention drifts to his cellphone.
“I love talking to myself,” I murmur.
“What was that?” He pushes himself on top of the island, dangling his feet over the counter like a little kid. I hate him for making me wait.
He heard me.
Once again, his silence fills the room. He was enjoying how each moment where he said absolutely nothing made my skin crawl. His boastful smile confirms that.
“Join him,” the shadow says. I feel compelled to do as she says. Moving my body on top of the island too, inches away from his thigh.
“I remember seeing you on my television every Friday night when I was in high school. It felt like a routine. Sit down with my Hot Pocket and zone out for an hour.”
“Hot Pocket?”
“Shh, I am telling a story.”
“Go on, Hot Pocket.”
A sudden warmth spreads across my cheeks, feeling his eyes on me.
“I remember all my favorite teen stars and how they were picked apart in the media after one thing they said. I desperately wanted to understand how that happened so I could control it.
“There’s no harm in us twisting the narrative when the media jumps at the chance to do the same.”
Holden leaps off the counter. “So, you are saying I was your favorite teen star?”
The air from the jump causes my hair to blow off my shoulder. He’s now standing within ten inches of my legs as I remain seated on the island.
“I am not really sure how you took that from what I just said…” I quickly cross my left leg over my right.
“Call it a positive perspective,” he says, inching closer.
