Page 31 of Lights, Camera, Love

It happened in a single, breathless heartbeat.

One—at best, two—seconds of pressing my mouth to Evie’s, of sinking into the velvety ache of her kiss, and I’d known, without question.

I’m going to fall in love with you.

Then, one—at best, two—seconds of standing in the firing line of Austin’s stare and my focus had taken a sharp turn.

He’s going to run.

And he did. With a crestfallen face, Austin had turned and barrelled back down the corridor and through the doors into the nightclub.

I chased after him, past the stage and the hulking bouncers and out onto the rain-soaked street, my breaths short and my eyes wide, while he threw himself into a taxi.

As the cab drove away, its red taillights shrinking to blurry dots in the deluge, Evie crept up behind me and laid a hand on my wet shoulder. The temptation to turn and fall into her, shutting out everything apart from her existence, had me almost swaying on my feet.

But I couldn’t. There was too much panic racing through my body, too much crushing guilt. I apologised to the woman I’d just lost myself in and took off as abruptly as Austin had, hoping I’d find him at home.

I honestly had no fucking idea he was this into Evie. He has no claim over her, of course—I know that. Evie can date whomever the hell she wants or tell us both to piss off. That doesn’t change the fact that I willingly tore open a wound that had only just started to heal.

Austin didn’t come back to the apartment that night.

Now, four days have passed, and he’s still god-knows-where, ignoring my messages and calls.

At least I can reassure myself that he’s alive: Leah told me she’d heard from him, but apparently he didn’t say where he was.

All she could tell me was that he sounded terrible.

The thought of him being off his head on drugs somewhere, because of me, makes me want to be sick.

But I keep reassuring myself that, if this was the case, if he was using, he wouldn’t have gotten in touch with his mum.

The Austin I know vanishes off the face of the Earth when he’s high.

The sun has just begun to bloom over the horizon as I step out on the balcony of our apartment.

I rest my elbows against the railing and gaze out at the seagulls swooping over the peach-toned beach, envying their uncomplicated lives.

I want my entire life purpose to be nicking people’s hot chips—give me that reality.

My phone rings, jacking up my nerves. I see Leah’s name flashing on the screen and snatch it off the outdoor table.

‘Sorry to call so early,’ she says, her voice rusty with sleep.

‘It’s all good; I was already up. Have you heard anything?’

‘Yes, he called me a few minutes ago. He said he’s at the Gold Coast, staying with a friend. Maxi, I think he said his name is.’

I don’t know who the fuck Maxi is, but the Gold Coast ?

A huff escapes my lips. Now that principal photography has finished on Moving , the production company is holding a big wrap party tonight for the cast and crew at the new luxury hotel downtown.

Both Austin and Evie were gifted their own overnight suite for the occasion—an unnecessary expense that should’ve gone towards the film’s marketing budget.

Plus, they’re meant to be in a romantic relationship, so booking separate rooms was a brainless oversight by Village Pictures—what if someone on the reception desk blabs to a gossip site?

Still, Austin needs to be at that party.

‘He also asked me to let you know that he won’t make it back to town today,’ Leah says. ‘He said there was some event he was meant to go to tonight?’

I grip my pounding forehead, starting to second-guess my decision not to apply for that job Mike mentioned at Angel Care. Even working through the endless challenges of the foster system would have to come with fewer headaches than this. ‘Yeah.’

‘He says he has the flu,’ Leah adds with a sigh. ‘He didn’t sound sick, but at least he sounded sober. I’m so worried about him, Kye. I wish he would come to us for guidance and blessings for whatever is troubling him, but he keeps our conversations very short.’

I pinch the bridge of my nose. ‘He’ll be all right,’ I reassure Leah. I don’t tell her that she’s right about Austin not having the flu, or give her any indication of what’s really going on—which is that her son just doesn’t want to look at my face right now.

‘He asked if you could go to this work party without him?’ she says.

‘Yeah. That’s fine. Thanks.’ This is so ridiculous—Austin and I communicating through his mother. It’s fucking childish.

After we say goodbye I reset my focus, switching to manager mode.

I text the event planner from Village Pictures to let her know it’ll just be me coming to the wrap party tonight.

Buzz is going to have a conniption when he finds out his leading man won’t be at his glitzy party; I need to come up with a solid cover story.

As much as I can’t stand Buzz, I can’t let Austin fall out of favour with him before the film is edited and promoted.

A pissed-off director with a bruised ego can make things painfully difficult for an actor, and that’s another headache I’d sooner avoid.

The other reason I wouldn’t miss tonight is because I need to see Evie.

Every time I think about her—I’m not sure I’m ever not thinking about her—my gut twists into a knot.

I should have contacted her right after the other night’s implosion, but I kept putting it off, waiting to come up with something worthwhile to say, and now it feels too late to call.

She hasn’t reached out to me either, but why would she? I kissed her and then took off—I’d almost be disappointed in her if she didn’t want to slap my face and delete my number.

And the truth is, I’m not sure I’m the first thing on Evie’s mind right now, anyway.

I lean against the balcony railing, scanning the latest news items on ‘Evie Scott and Gabriel Dean’.

A new article pops up with the headline: ‘Gabriel Dean’s Secret Australian Daughter: Everything You Need to Know’.

My heart twinges. Another drawback of Austin’s impromptu trip out of state is that I can’t blast him for exposing Evie like this. I thought I made it clear that it was not his information to share.

I mope back into the apartment to grab my hiking boots, my baseball cap and a bottle of water. A long bushwalk with nothing but nature for company might help me clear my mind and figure out what the hell I’m going to say to Evie tonight.

The marble doors of the lift spring open, and I step out into a spacious foyer that smells strongly of fresh paint and just-laid carpet.

I give my navy suit jacket a straightening tug and wander inside the hotel ballroom, which is humming with a medley of chatter and background music taken from the Movin g soundtrack.

The cavernous space has been decorated in the theme of Jamie’s farm, with leafy vines twisted into arbours, wooden trestle tables draped with red gingham tablecloths, and white pillar candles flickering inside glass cylinders.

Familiar faces from the film crew stand around, clutching champagne flutes and bottles of craft beer, and looking significantly less frazzled than they were on Buzz’s set.

I scan the room and spot the egomaniac director hovering beside the bar in a comically bad silver suit and too-short red tie, his nest of hair slicked over to one side.

Buzz is angled towards the bar, chatting with—my stomach somersaults as a broad-shouldered man steps aside and Evie comes into view.

My gaze skids down her light-pink dress, catching a glimpse of her toned thigh through the long slit.

A pang of longing reverberates in my chest.

Evie’s eyes stay locked on Buzz as he speaks, a faint line etched between her brows.

Cesar, the camera operator, and Brie, one of the lighting technicians, brush past me on their way back from the bar.

‘Oh hey, Kye,’ says Cesar. ‘It’s a shame Austin couldn’t make it. Want to come sit with us? We’re just chatting with Jakob about a new script he’s working on. Could be a good gig for us if it gets off the ground. Not sure whether there’s something for Austin.’

‘It’s a thriller about a catastrophic computer virus that overtakes the world,’ Brie explains.

Can’t hardly wait to hear more about that groundbreaking idea, which probably has as much chance of getting off the ground as an ostrich, I think. But I maintain my fake-ass smile. ‘Sure, I’ll be there in a bit. Just gonna grab a drink.’

Everything I formulated on my hike today, each word I planned to say to Evie, falls out of my head as I step up to the bar where she is standing with Buzz, who has his back to me.

My gaze knocks against Evie’s, and a hot current shoots down my spine. ‘Hello,’ I say.

‘Hi.’ She swallows tightly and blinks away, her gold earrings swinging.

I’m so sorry.

Please forgive me.

Evie returns her attention to Buzz and picks up the conversation they’d been having—something about filming pick-ups because of an issue with one of the farm scenes. My chest slowly sinks into a black hole. So, she is mad at me .

Of course she is, you asshole.

My throat burns as I catch a bartender’s attention and order a beer, feeling Evie’s eyes drift to the side of my face and linger there.

Beside me, Buzz murmurs something unintelligible to Evie before turning to hack out a cough in my direction. Lovely. I can smell his breath from here—he’s been lapping up the complimentary drinks, literally. Shaking my head, I give the exit doors a wistful glance.

‘ Buzz, ’ Evie protests, and I turn to spot his fingers groping for hers.

She hides her hand behind her back, and the director takes hold of her opposite wrist with a sleepy smile. ‘What?’ he says. ‘I’m not allowed to hold the hand of my leading lady?’ He draws Evie’s hand to his lips and gives her palm a sloppy kiss.