Page 6 of Romance Is Dead

Despite setting three alarms, I was still late to set the next morning.

It had been a rough night. Every time I was about to nod off, visions of Trevor’s glassy eyes jerked me awake.

If I wiped that image away, it was replaced by violent slow motions of him falling, his head crashing into the rock.

I was able to snag a few hours of sleep, but it still felt like I’d been up all night by the time my alarm went off.

Hopping out of my car, my face was still puffy and my eyes full of grit.

Mara was going to have her work cut out for her.

I winced as I passed the spot where we’d found Trevor.

Bright yellow police tape was still cordoning off the scene, evoking memories of sitting in the dark next to his body.

I shook my head, desperate to clear it. I needed more caffeine. Stat.

As I wound through base camp on my way to craft services, there was a distinct lack of commotion.

I hadn’t been run over by any PAs distracted by their headsets.

There was no sign of Natasha or her AD looking for someone in a blind panic.

And I’d expected to run into at least one hungover actor stumbling onto set late after celebrating the night before.

But everything was eerily still. Had the entire production been paused? Had no one thought to tell me?

A cup of coffee slid into view.

“I figured you might need this.” Teddy fell in step next to me, also in sweats and a hoodie, making the two of us look like partners in crime.

But while I looked like death warmed over, Teddy was — irritatingly — as handsome as ever.

There were faint shadows under his eyes, and that stubborn curl of hair had flopped onto his forehead, but he still looked ready to walk onto a modeling shoot.

I hated that after two fights and finding a dead body together, I was still as attracted to him as the night I met him.

“Oh my God, thank you.” I grabbed the cup and took a long swallow, sighing in relief. I might have been tempted to toss it on the ground the night before, but now I couldn’t afford to waste precious caffeine. “It feels like I got about seven minutes of sleep last night.”

“I can tell.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You look tired.”

“Thanks so much.”

“I didn’t say you looked bad.” He cocked his head to one side, studying me. “You look. . . worn.” He snapped his fingers. “I know. Like Jigsaw. In those Saw movies.”

“Jigsaw,” I repeated flatly. “I look like a seventy-year-old terminally ill man?”

“Yeah, kind of that vibe.”

“Fantastic,” I grumbled. Teddy threw back his head as he laughed, his eyes crinkled with delight.

I watched him as we continued our way through base camp.

I’d been so angry with him the day before, so frustrated with how selfish he’d been by not preparing and wasting everyone’s time.

And his arrogance after his lame attempt at an apology.

But I had to admit he’d helped me talk to the cops, and he had brought me coffee.

And I did like the way his eyes twinkled when he laughed, even if it was because he’d compared me to a horror movie villain.

Shaking my head, I snapped myself out of it. No. The man just knew how to be charming, as evidenced by the fact that he seemed to be in active relationships with three separate Instagram models at the moment. And falling for that charm had bitten me in the ass earlier in the summer.

As we rounded a trailer a few steps later, I had my answer to why everything was so quiet. Everyone had gathered in the middle of base camp, and Natasha was facing the crowd as her voice boomed across the space.

“. . . did not make it.” Her voice was solemn. “His family has been notified.”

Gasps and murmurs echoed through the crowd. As she waited for everyone to quiet down, Natasha spotted us.

“And actually, here are the two that found him.” She outstretched an arm, motioning to where Teddy and I stood at the edge of the throng.

Everyone craned their necks to stare. Two boom operators caught my eye, whispering behind their hands, while a group of lighting techs openly gawped. I squirmed, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. I took another sip of coffee, trying to shield myself with the cup.

“As I was saying,” Natasha continued. “He was taken to the hospital, where it was determined he was already deceased by the time he was found. Police are willing to talk to anyone with information, but after carefully examining the scene, they are considering the death accidental at this time.”

Something twinged in the pit of my stomach. Rationally, I knew it made sense that Trevor’s death had been an accident. But something, some alarm bell buried deep in the back of my mind, made me feel like what happened the night before was more sinister. I just couldn’t put my finger on what.

“Thankfully,” Natasha said, “PAs are easy to find and we’ll get a replacement in here soon.” She straightened her shoulders and clapped her hands. “In the meantime, the show must go on. Filming will resume today as originally planned.”

Before Natasha could stride away, the AD placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered something in her ear.

“Oh. Right. If anyone feels ‘traumatized’” — Natasha put scare quotes around the word with her fingers, looking pointedly at Teddy and me — “counseling is available if you find it absolutely necessary. Back to work!”

I only made it a few yards before Mara caught up to me, grabbing my arm as we fell into step.

“Are you ok? Why didn’t you call me last night?” She tightened her grip, her fingernails digging into my skin. “Oh my God, Quinn, you found a body! How awful.”

I winced, as much from the pain as the guilt of not telling her. “I know, I’m sorry! It was so late when I got back.”

“Who cares? You found a body.”

“Stop saying it out loud! And Mara, you know damn well you’re in bed every night by nine.” On a previous movie, I’d had to fetch her from her trailer when she’d fallen asleep before what she referred to as a “late night shoot.” It started at nine thirty.

“I’ll have you know I was up until ten last night.” She finally relaxed her talons, slipping her arm companionably into mine instead. “But even if I wasn’t, you know you can always call me or bang on my door. Especially if you — ”

“If I found a body. I know. And thank you.” I took a sip of coffee with my free arm. “It’s so wild, it all kind of feels like a dream at this point.”

“More like a nightmare.” Mara opened the door to the makeup trailer. “Come on, I’ll even let you fall asleep in my chair.”

Mara was able to spackle enough makeup on my face to make me look more like a fresh-faced college student and less like a zombie from Night of the Living Dead , but I had a harder time summoning the energy to focus on my scenes.

I missed my mark twice and accidentally spoke other characters’ lines for them.

Teddy remembered more lines than the day before, but still made some truly bizarre acting choices.

Why he thought it would be appropriate to give his character a Southern twang in the middle of one scene, for example, I had no idea.

The rest of the cast also seemed affected by the news about Trevor.

Brent, for all his cool-guy bravado, kept missing his cues.

Audrey kept spacing out, falling out of character by the time the camera landed on her.

And while Chloe’s personality was usually as bouncy as her champagne-colored curls, she kept pausing between takes to dry her eyes.

When we finally wrapped for lunch, I was so exhausted that I almost skipped it in favor of taking a nap.

Knowing I’d feel worse if I didn’t eat, I picked up my meal from catering, double-checking that the top was marked with “No peanuts.” Apparently, my parents learned about my peanut allergy when I was two and stole a peanut butter cookie from Drew Barrymore at the Scream premiere.

My mom’s yells of panic were initially attributed to the movie before someone finally realized I needed medical attention and whisked us off in a limo.

Choosing a seat under the tent where I could eat alone, I tossed the lid onto the table and dug in. I’d barely forced myself to eat three bites in when a shadow hovered overhead.

“Mind if I sit here?” It was Chloe, eyes bright and holding a salad identical to my own.

Hesitating, I finished chewing a cherry tomato to buy myself some time.

Chloe seemed sweet, but she also seemed to spend a lot of time on set chatting and asking questions whenever the cameras were off.

I was in the mood to sulk alone, not listen to a barrage of small talk.

But her face was so hopeful that I couldn’t help but acquiesce.

I nodded and she sank onto the seat opposite me, smiling in relief.

“Thanks.” She pushed her disposable fork through its plastic film wrapping. “I feel like the new kid at school trying to find a seat in the cafeteria.”

I wanted to point out that there were several empty picnic tables, but that would be rude.

“It’ll get better. That feeling never lasts long.”

“I hope not.” She speared a hunk of avocado. “Actually, there was another reason I wanted to come over here.”

“Oh?”

“Not to be weird, I know we don’t really know each other, but I wanted to check on you. Going through what you did last night?” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I can’t imagine.”

I stiffened. “That’s nice of you, but I’m ok.”

“It must have been awful.”

“It wasn’t great.” I pushed some lettuce around with my fork, what little appetite I had evaporating as Trevor’s bashed-in forehead came to mind.

“What happened? Natasha just said there was an accident.”

“Honestly, I don’t really feel like talking about it.”

“Totally. No, of course you don’t.” Eyes falling, Chloe set down her fork. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” She stared at her salad, looking dejected. Neither of us felt like eating anymore, apparently.

As we sat in silence for several beats, my heart twinged. I knew she hadn’t meant any harm — I’m sure everyone else was curious about what happened, too. And it was clear she felt anxious on set and just wanted a friend, even if she was going about it a little awkwardly.

“How do you like filming so far?” I asked, forking up some lettuce. “This is your first movie, right?”

Looking a bit surprised, Chloe nodded. “I’ve had a few bit parts here and there, but this is my first major role.”

“You’re doing great so far.”

“You don’t have to say that. I ruined a whole take earlier by bursting into tears.”

“And I missed my mark twice in a row. But the way you kept reaching for the ibuprofen over and over because your character was hungover? Genius, so funny.” It was one of my favorite parts of making movies — the little choices actors made that really sold a scene.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Chloe smiled, looking relaxed for the first time all day. “Thanks for saying that. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do — be an actor.”

I bit my tongue. I didn’t need to dash any dreams today.

“I am a little nervous, though,” she admitted. “For tomorrow’s shoot.”

“Why’s that?”

“The scene on the balcony? It’s not a huge stunt, but I’m still worried I’m going to screw it up.” Chloe laughed. “Or that I’ll actually get pushed off and break my neck.”

Picturing the scene we’d be filming the next day, my stomach plummeted. There it was: the lurking feeling that had been bothering me, telling me that Trevor’s death might not have been so accidental after all.

“I have to go.” I staggered to my feet, grabbing my half-finished salad.

“Are you alright?” Chloe’s face crinkled in concern. “What happened?”

“Something in the salad isn’t agreeing with me. Maybe the avocado?” I pressed a hand to my stomach, trying to sell the story. “I’m sorry, we can chat again later!”

Leaving my food behind, I fled the tent. I needed to go back to the ditch where we’d found Trevor. Now.