“I don’t want any other girls,” I said.
“I don’t want any other guys,” she answered, leaning closer.
“Good.” I kissed her, pulling her onto my lap, my hands wandering under her shirt as hers wandered under mine. Maybe that was the first time we went a step further than making out.
That conversation went like this: “Do you think—?”
She looked at me a long moment before nodding. “Okay.”
*** *** ***
Emma
We’re filming at the Bennet house again. Graham and I have the first scene. I don’t know when he returned to Austin, only that I haven’t heard from him in the two and a half days since he kissed me. Meanwhile, the photos of Reid and me at the concert have pretty much gone viral, and considering Graham’s silence, it seems clear enough how he feels about that.
The kitchen is packed, between craft services people setting up breakfast and snacks, crew members standing around eating, discussing camera angles and scene layouts, and the cast taking bites between bits of line rehearsals. More than once I start to leave the kitchen and go to the living area, where it’s less crowded and noisy, but something keeps me hiding in the throng of people, and I know exactly what that something is.
Waiting to see Graham yanks my emotions back and forth, as though I’m either facing a starting gate or a firing squad. I’m as jittery and nauseated as I would be after four cups of coffee. I can’t quite get a grip, giving me five seconds, from the moment I finally hear his voice in the other room, to pull it together.
Epic. Fail.
He comes around the corner, sides in hand, talking with Richter, wearing jeans and a rumpled button-down shirt, sleeves rolled and pushed above his elbows. Running a hand through his hair, he glances around the room, his eyes not stopping on anything or anyone until he reaches me. Expression unreadable, he nods once in my direction and turns back to Richter.
“Let’s get you into makeup,” Richter tells him. “Fifteen minutes?”
“Sure.” I don’t see him again until right before we’re on camera.
***
I don’t recognize Graham when he comes back. My concern that they wouldn’t be able to make him look goofy enough for Bill Collins was dead wrong. His hair is slicked back with gel and he’s wearing pleated khaki pants, a coral golf shirt—tucked in—and a pair of gold-framed glasses with spherical lenses. His walk and his mannerisms are timid, yet self-important. He’s perfect.
We’re filming the absurd proposal scene between Bill and Lizbeth. The assistant director lays out the scene and we listen without looking at each other. Graham hasn’t looked at me after that first glance, though he’ll be contractually obligated to in a few minutes. I would have felt so comfortable doing this scene a week ago, before he kissed me, before he disappeared and returned not speaking to me.
“Action,” Richter says.
INT. Bennet Kitchen – Day
LIZBETH is loading dishes into the dishwasher as BILL walks in from the dining room with a stack of plates.
BILL
Lizbeth, I have something to ask you.
LIZBETH
(taking dishes from him, rinsing them in the sink)
Yes?
BILL
As you know, I am an integral part of the Rosings firm, with a lucrative career in front of me.
LIZBETH
(rolling eyes to the side)
Yes, so you’ve said.
BILL
My boss, Ms. DeBourgh, believes that a man in my position is best suited to an advantageous career if he is settled down, domestically speaking.
LIZBETH frowns.
BILL
So, I’m asking you, Lizbeth Bennet, to marry me.
LIZBETH swivels to face him, dropping a plate into the sink where it clatters and breaks.
(The expression on Graham’s face is so guarded that I have a difficult time staying in character—Bill Collins is supposed to be comic relief. Graham seems… angry.)
LIZBETH
(incredulous)
But. But. I’m in high school.
(I’m determined to fix that parenthetical incredulous expression on my face. I try to focus on his ridiculous glasses, the stupid slicked-back hair, anything. Nothing works.)
BILL
The engagement won’t be official until you’re eighteen, but that needn’t stop us from planning.
(He sounds much too persuasive to be the idiotic Bill Collins; even his nasally whine is absent. Richter is going to notice; everyone is going to notice. Suddenly I’m livid.)
LIZBETH
(stunned)
Are you insane?
BILL
(laughing carelessly)
Girls are all such teases. It’s nearly impossible for a guy to know where he stands!
(And I’m blushing again…)
LIZBETH
(horrified)
I am not being a tease. If I’ve done something to make you think I’m interested, well, I’m sorry. My answer is still no.
BILL
You don’t need to worry about the choice of ring, by the way. I didn’t purchase one yet because I wanted to make sure you had your choice.
LIZBETH
You didn’t even know me a month ago. You couldn’t possibly have come here intending to just fall in love with someone you don’t even know?
(My voice cracks and I can’t keep my lip from quivering. Dammit.)
BILL
It’s true, I didn’t know you, but I had every intention of making up for my dad’s mismanagement of Bennet Inc. by hooking up, legitimately of course, with you. I knew you were beautiful. I was sure I would feel a connection. And I did.