The Road to Her (12 page)

And I’d never wanted anyone so much in my life.

The worst thing was, now I had to carry on working with her, all while knowing that I liked her. I tried to remember back to a point when my dislike for her had changed. She’d certainly stirred something inside me the night she’d come over and removed the spider from my kitchen, and I’d always secretly liked the way I caught her looking at me when she thought I wasn’t looking, but was it during that time that dislike had turned to like, which had then turned to proper falling for her?

Did I just wake up one morning and find that something had programmed my Elise-o-meter from
okay, yeah, she’s funny
to
whoa!
overnight? Maybe subconsciously I’d always liked her—had always been fascinated by her. I know I thought she was hot the first time I ever met her, but did that mean I actually—

“Holly?” I flinched as I heard Elise’s voice next to me.

I was still leaning against the corridor wall, staring up at the ceiling, totally lost in my thoughts.

“Are you in a mood with me?” Her voice was low and husky. Maybe that was my imagination.

I turned and looked at her, wiping away a tear that I hadn’t even realised had been there. “No, ’course not.” I smiled and cleared my throat, pulling myself away from the wall. “Are we, uh, are we ready to shoot?” I made a big show of looking at my watch, trying to conceal my miserable confusion.

“Yeah,” Elise stood close, looking at me. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’ve just got a bit of a headache, that’s all. It’ll go,” I lied.

She was still watching me, standing uncomfortably close. My eyes flickered to her face and away again. Something inside told me not to look at her in case she could read my mind. I felt wretched. Was this how it would be from now on? Would I be too afraid to be near her, or to touch her, or to look at her in case I gave the game away?

I looked down at the floor of the corridor then quickly back at Elise. Why did she have to look so damned perfect all the time? Why did she have to stand so close to me?

“So come on, then.” I snapped myself out of thoughts that were threatening to run away with me and started to walk away from her and down the corridor. “Let’s get on with it.”

*

Stuart, our director for the promo shoots we were doing that day, was wandering about the set with a clipboard clutched to his chest. He looked grumpy and stressed—not a good start to the afternoon.

We had to film some mini-clips for a promo that would go out on TV the next week, advertising a future storyline where Jasey, frightened that Casey’s parents know they’re seeing each other, talk about leaving home, scared that they’re going to be split up. It was going to be a week-long story, going out in a month’s time, and would air every night, running alongside another separate storyline involving a doctor’s affair with one of his patients.

Our first couple of shots—both done in Jasmine’s kitchen—went swimmingly and involved filming a snapshot of a conversation between the pair where they discuss where they could go. The idea behind it was that it would be a teaser to give the viewers an idea of what would be coming up in the story when it finally aired.

It wasn’t anything harder than I’d done a thousand times before, but I was really struggling with it. I was blinded by confusion and unhappiness, my mind frequently thinking about Elise and Stig dancing in the club the night before—and worse, which made me repeatedly fluff my lines and miss my cues.

“If you could come in immediately after Casey takes Jasmine’s hand, please,” Stuart said, as I missed my cue for the fourth time. “There’s no pause, Holly. Just a straightaway response to Casey’s comment.”

“Sure.” I was aware of both the cameraman’s and Stuart’s growing impatience. That didn’t make my struggling any easier.

“Ready in three, two, one,” Stuart counted me down. “And action.”

Why did you ignore me in the club, Elise?
I looked at Elise, sitting impassively opposite me at the kitchen set table.
Why did you think it was okay to get with some stranger then tell me about it this morning? Don’t you know this is killing me?

“I can’t be without you, Casey.” I spoke robotically. “I don’t think you realise just what you mean to me.” I looked at Elise’s hand in mine, then back up to her face.

She stared back at me, her eyes questioning. “Your line,” she mouthed when I didn’t speak, “not mine.”

“Cut!”

The pattern of stuttering and missed cues continued. I could hear Elise inhale deeply each time I corpsed or asked to try something again because I wasn’t happy with it. When she wasn’t prompting me for my line, she was repeatedly suggesting that I add something more to my scenes—a sigh here, a flick of my hair there—but it was impossible. Finally after about an hour, she broke.

“Are you deliberately trying to make this the longest afternoon in history?” she whispered while Stuart halted filming to talk to the lighting guy about changing some angles.

“I’m sorry.” I pulled my hands wearily through my hair. “Not a good day today.”

“No.” She looked at me, her face dark.

“I said I’m sorry,” I repeated, wanting her to tell me everything was going to be okay.

“Maybe concentrate, more than being sorry.” She smiled. Was her smile kind? Or forced? I wished I knew.

“I’m trying my best here.” My voice was thick. “Just give me a break, will you?”

“And that’s your best?” Elise asked dismissively, leaning back in her chair and turning to face away from me.

I stared at her dumbly, my face burning.

“You okay, Holly?” Stuart, still talking to the lighting guy, jerked his chin in my direction.

I paused, still looking at Elise’s back.

“Give me a sec, yeah Stu?” I called over to him.

I willed Elise to look back at me, but she didn’t. Instead, she sat brooding, resolutely refusing to acknowledge that I was still sitting opposite her, and I figured at that moment she must have hated me. Well, I didn’t want her to hate me. I wanted her to like me. What’s so hard about that? I wanted her to like me like I liked her, but she was never going to, was she? I couldn’t even go there because she was straight. She liked men; she’d proved that over the last two nights. Why the hell would she even ever look twice at me?

Without another word, I got up and walked to the corner of the set, angrily wiping away tears of frustration. I stared at the wall in front of me, listening to the sounds of cameras being moved around behind me and of Stuart barking orders at yet another runner on the set.

I so didn’t want to be like this, running away from Elise like a petulant child each time she said something to me that upset me, but I just couldn’t help myself. Something in Elise and the way she looked at me brought out the hesitant, uncertain actress in me time and again, and I just didn’t know what I could do about it.

A shadow covered me, and I was instantly aware of someone standing right behind me. I flinched as Elise put her hand on my shoulder, closing my eyes as I heard her quiet voice.

“I’m sorry.”

I turned to face her. “No, I’m sorry,” I said. “Dumb reaction.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you, you know.” She stood in front of me, her hand still on my shoulder.

“You didn’t upset me, Elise,” I said, taking a deep breath.

“You sure about that?” Elise asked. “I wish I knew what it is I do that annoys or upsets you so much, Holly.” She studied my face. “Or why you go running off every time I say or do something that you don’t agree with.”

“I didn’t go running off, Elise,” I lied. “I just needed five.”

“But you don’t like it when I say something you disagree with, do you?” Elise asked gently.

“I don’t like you being impatient with me, no,” I said.

“Who was being impatient?” Elise looked at me in surprise.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, aware that I was being stupid and immature again. “That’s how it felt.”

“I wasn’t being impatient, Hol.” She finally dropped her hand from my shoulder.

“Well, it felt like it,” I mumbled. I leant against the wall and started picking at a loose thread on my jumper, embarrassed at how I was being with her. How could I explain to her that the only reason I’d fled from the set was because of her? How every criticism she directed my way was like a knife in my heart?

I had to be professional. I was just her co-star, for crap’s sake! I mean, how stupid would I look if I told her that I was confusing life and fiction, that the lines between what was real and what we were acting out on screen each night were becoming blurred?

For me, anyway.

Elise finally came and stood beside me, so that we were now both leaning against the wall. “Oh, Holly Eight-Year!” Sighing, she leant her head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. I looked across and took in the sight of her fine cheekbones, her soft skin, her cute dimples, and her beautifully long eyelashes fluttering briefly each time she blinked. Here she was, standing so close to me, so close I could practically feel the warmth from her, and there was nothing I could do about it. I was desperate to touch her, willing her to turn and look at me, but still she stood staring up at the ceiling.

“I still don’t think you like me very much, do you?” Suddenly she turned and looked at me, making me quickly look away. “Despite everything.”

I felt my face flush with embarrassment, as if she’d been reading my mind. “I do,” I said, probably more defensively than it should have been. “I do like you.”

Didn’t she realise that I now knew exactly what I liked about her? Her confidence, her attitude, her balls? Didn’t she know that’s what turned me on? That’s what gave me a reason to get up each morning? That I lived and breathed her exuberance, that it hypnotised me, lifted me, made me feel a better person? I felt alive when I was around her, felt like she and I could do anything. We were invincible—Jasey were invincible in
Portobello Road,
and Hollise could be invincible in real life.

Hollise. Holly and Elise.

I turned the words over in my head as Elise continued to talk, not listening to a word she was saying. I liked the idea of Hollise. Together, Elise and I could do anything—I was certain of that. She’d never have a bad experience with me like she’d done when she’d been in LA.

“I don’t like to think I’ve upset you, Holly,” Elise said, interrupting my thoughts. “I didn’t mean to.” She caught my eye. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“If I was impatient, then I apologise,” Elise was now saying. “I know I can be a bit in-your-face—God knows I’ve been told enough times—but I don’t mean to be, certainly not with you. Sometimes it just comes out wrong.”

I didn’t answer her.

“I just want us to be friends,” she said. “Because I like you, and I like working with you.”

Friends? Just friends?

“Me, too,” I finally said feebly. I waited for her to say something else, but she didn’t. Instead, she looked at her watch and sighed.

“Good.” She finally pulled herself away from the wall.

“Just give me five minutes,” I said to her now. “I’ll follow you back over there, okay?” I jerked my chin towards the set.

“Okay,” Elise said, running her hand down my arm.

She slowly walked away from me, talking briefly to Stuart as she approached him back on set. I stared at her back, wondering what she was saying to him, then shook my head. I was being stupid, letting her get to me the way she was. She was my co-star, she was straight, she was dating Stig, and she’d never be anything more than just the girl I happened to work with. The sooner I accepted that, the sooner I could move on. She was affecting my work, work that I was damned good at and had been for years.

Well, no more. I was ready now. This time I wasn’t going to balls things up.

Chapter Eleven

After we’d finally finished shooting that afternoon, I didn’t see Elise again for the rest of the day, or for the rest of the weekend, either. I was relieved, actually, because not seeing her and not hearing from her for nearly forty-eight hours gave me time to think about things, and a chance to try to figure out the best thing to do, which was easier said than done. The trouble was, I just didn’t know what to do. I had to work with her, there was no escaping from that, but I figured the more I kept it totally on a professional level, then the easier it would be to handle.

That meant no going round to her dressing room, no hanging out with her between takes, and certainly no going out clubbing with her at all. It also meant not taking any of her funny moods personally, or taking to heart any of her occasional asides to me during and after filming. I was a professional; I made my living out of pretending to be someone I wasn’t, so it should be second nature, right?

Wrong.

All the advice I’d given to myself in the few days I didn’t see Elise counted for zip when I returned to work Monday morning and saw her again in the car park, arriving just before me. I sat in my car and watched, hypnotised, as she got out of hers, her long legs unfurling from her seat, and shrugged her jacket on. She was dressed down in a simple jacket-and-trouser combination, but she was still achingly beautiful, I thought.

I saw her spot me, and my heart skipped when she then waved at me and stood by her car, waiting for me.

“Hey!” She looked genuinely pleased to see me as I finally got out of my car and wandered towards her.

“All right?” I tried to act normally, desperate not to focus too much on her face. Instead I rooted around in my shoulder bag for some imaginary thing, only so I could stare down into it and not have to look at her.

Would she be able to tell from the look on my face what I was thinking? Would she be able to detect a change in me?

“Good weekend?” she asked. “Or what was left of it, anyway?”

We started walking together towards the entrance to the studios, and I made sure I walked a good few feet from her so my arm wouldn’t brush against her. Stupid, I know.

“Not bad,” I replied. “You?”