Isn't She Lovely (Redemption 0.5)(45)

The plan was supposed to be simple, and instead it feels more complicated than any real relationship I’ve ever been in.

It’s as though …

A lightbulb goes on. That’s it.

“These characters have to fall in love.”

Ethan freezes in his fidgeting. “Excuse me?”

“Tyler and Kayla,” I say, referring to the names of our screenplay characters. “They have it too easy right now. They have to start to fall in love. Or at least one of them does.”

He stares at me. “And that will give us conflict?”

“Come on,” I say, giving him a look. “Let’s pretend it’s real life. Would the two of us falling in love create conflict?”

The silence in the small study room is almost painful, although I’m not sure why. I mean, we’ve both seen the movies. We both know the Pygmalion story. We both knew at the start of all this what would need to happen in the screenplay.

But I know we’ve both been avoiding putting real emotion into our screenplay for this very reason. Because it’s getting harder and harder to separate Ethan from Tyler, and Kayla from me.

Our screenplay is supposed to be based on real life, but maybe we’re terrified that things will get reversed. That putting love in the screenplay will affect real life. And that’s so not in the cards.

“Okay, I’m with you,” he says slowly. “So Tyler and Kayla—do we really have to go with those names? They sound too similar … Too many Ys?”

“Change their names to whatever you want,” I mutter as I begin scribbling ideas in the notebook. I try to ignore him as he begins to rattle off alternative character names, although I cut him off when he gets to Woody and Ursula.

“Okay, how about this,” I say, tapping my pen excitedly on my notebook. I forgot what a rush screenplay writing can be, especially when an idea clicks. “So far we have the two of them doing all of the things that we’ve been doing in real life—faking a kiss on the boat, faking a dance at a wedding—but they’ve always been on the same page. We need for them to get off. For one of them to throw the other off balance.”

Ethan yawns. “I can tell you right now that no dude will go to this movie unless he’s fourteen and his mom drops him off so he can try to hold hands with his crush.”

I give him a patient look. “This insight into your horny childhood is delightful, but I think it’s safe to say that dudes aren’t our primary audience here. We’re going for the tween girl crowd.”

He brightens and starts to stand. “Sounds like your territory. How about you have at it, and I’ll go get us a couple of sandwiches.”

I jab my pen at his chest. “Sit. Stay. I am not doing this alone.”

He reluctantly drops into the chair. “Fine. I’ll bite. How do we throw our characters off balance?”

Other than having one of them carry the other through Central Park under starlight? Other than having a harmless slow dance turn sexy? Other than that, you mean?

But although I know both of those incidents happened, it’s becoming increasingly clear that they don’t matter. At least not to Ethan. Because just when I thought something was maybe happening, something other than the game, he went back to normal. He went back to a teasing, indifferent roommate.

Which is perfect for real life.

And exactly what isn’t working in our movie.

“They need to have a romantic moment that’s not about their charade. That’s not about convincing everyone else that that they’re in love. It needs to be real, and just between them.”

He gives me a blank stare. “Romantic. You mean like … flowers?”

“Yes, Ethan. That’s exactly what I mean. Please bring me flowers.”

His eyebrows creep up. “Who said anything about you and me? I thought we were talking about Tyler and Kayla.”

Oops.

“Well, it’s equally ridiculous with them,” I say, hoping he doesn’t notice the color I feel creeping up my neck. “We need to make it clear that they’ve crossed some sort of line.”

“So when you say romantic, you mean sexual,” he says, his brown eyes glowing gold.

My mouth is dry. “Um, sure, I guess.”

He shakes his head. “It won’t work. Nobody will believe there’s real attraction between these two.”

The flush that was creeping up my neck rushes to my face, except it’s no longer embarrassment. It’s anger. And maybe a little bit of hurt. Somehow I know he’s not talking about Tyler and Kayla either. He’s talking about us. Telling me that there can be no attraction there.

Except he’s wrong. There is.

Only apparently it’s one-way.

Suddenly I can’t be in this room anymore. Not with this guy whom I both want and hate. Hate because he’s a superficial snob who can’t see beyond my eyeliner … who can’t accept the girl who hates pink. Want because … well, hell, I don’t know why I want him. But I do.

I need to get out of here.

“Got it, Price. You figure out what would work in this story and just let me know.” I shove my notebook into my bag and am moving toward the door before I’ve even zipped it all the way.

I feel his fingers wrap around my arm seconds before I’m spun around and pushed up against the whiteboard, my backpack falling to the floor as he pins my hands above my head.