Page 104 of Crazy Scripted Love


Font Size:

“I know,” Sadie said. “But Janice has spoken and so we must accommodate.”

“And wecanaccommodate.” RJ’s words sounded like a threat. “Because we must.”

“Okay, so let’s go over the pitch and our schedules,” Sadie ordered. “The next few days are critical, and we need to have a plan.”

We stayed in that meeting room for several hours, running through different pitching options for RJ and Sadie. Late afternoon, we ordered pizza in as the heavy clouds I’d seen earlier in the day fattened and darkened, spilling over with rain. Although Sadie didn’t raise the possibility of Elliot directingWoodstock, I could tell she was feeling him out for the role, asking leading questions about the week. As for me, I did my best to contribute, but it was insanely hard to divorce myself from the Elliot-related turbulence and focus on the prep. When one of theWoodstockproducers tentatively edged into the meeting room to call Elliot and RJ back to set, I was somewhat relieved. Elliot was barely acknowledging my presence and I had a huge night of proofreading ahead of me; there was nothing to be gained by lingering here.

The producer dragged Elliot and RJ out of the room before they could even say goodbye and Sadie followed in hot pursuit. I decided to find a way out that avoided the set – it was clear Elliot wasn’t going to make any effort to patch up ourrelationship and I needed to respect that. I wandered out into the corridor, relieved to see ‘exit’ signs and so I followed them.

A door slammed at the far end of the corridor. “So you’re just leaving? Without saying a word?”

Heart in throat, I turned to see Elliot. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, talk to me?” he said, striding towards me.

“I tried,” I said. “But you ignored all my calls, every text … so, forgive me, but I’m only trying do right by you.”

“I think you and I have different ideas of what right is,” he said, bitterly.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” I told him. “I didn’t mean half of what I said.”

“You did.” He was now inches from me, his face stony.

“Not the bit about it being a disaster!” I said. “But you need to look at it from my point of view! When I came to New York, I planned to work, maybe do some networking, hopefully get a break in my career, I never imagined that I’d—”

“What?”

I choked. I’d nearly saidfall in love. But that wasn’t what this was. Was it? Was such a thing possible after a few weeks and one mind-blowing kiss? I hated that I didn’t know. “That I’d meet someone special.” It felt like the safe thing to say. “It’s a lot.”

“No shit.” His face softened.

Emboldened, I decided to share my momentous decision earlier that day. “And, look, you’ll be proud of me, I’m quitting Temper.”

“You’re … seriously? With no other job to jump to?” His eyes widened.

“I can’t stay there a second longer,” I said. “After these past few weeks, how can I?”

“That’s huge,” he said.

“I know.”

“So if you can take a risk like that …” He stepped closer. “Why not take a risk with me?”

I gazed into his gorgeous face, every inch of my body listing towards his as if being pulled by millions of tiny little threads. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I whispered. “I just don’t know how to.”

“How to what?” Elliot’s hand brushed mine, tentative, hoping.

“I think when it comes to you, I have a tendency to lose myself,” I said, forcing the words out. “And as fun as that sounds, I can’t right now. I want to, but I can’t.”

“Lose yourself?” Elliot’s voice turned ragged. “That’s funny, because when I look at you, it’s the opposite. I’mfound. For the first time in a long time, it’s like I have a safe place to go.”

I was dumbstruck. Why was it he could verbalize everything so clearly and beautifully, whereas I seemed to always say the wrong thing? “Elliot, I—”

The doors at the end of the corridor blasted open and the same producer from before streaked through them straight towards us.

“Elliot!” she called. “You’re needed on set. Sherman’s putting his foot down about the Janis Joplin scene and RJ is—” she was interrupted by the sound of a distant, guttural roar. “RJ is losing his shit.”

“Can I have a second here?” he snapped.