Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy(39)

It feels like an eternity ago, until now.

When I see a familiar look in Birdie’s big brown eyes, my chest tightens from my own personal memories of my first film. Truthfully, I don’t know whether I want to rile her up like I did last time or offer some comforting words.

“You good?” I whisper toward her as everyone around us hustles and bustles to get ready to begin. Howie stands in the corner of the room, discussing camera angles with Paulie and his crew. Serena Koontz yells out a few instructions to Birdie’s hair and makeup team as she sits down in one of the director’s chairs placed a few feet off set. And the lighting department makes their last-minute adjustments based on how the two of us look beneath their lights.

“What?” Birdie eventually responds, those big eyes of hers looking up into mine. She may be right here, physically standing in front of me, but mentally, she is a million miles away, most likely trying to coach herself into not freaking the fuck out.

“Are you good?” I repeat, and she blinks a few times before my words finally resonate inside her head.

“Of course,” she retorts—well, more like snaps back. “Why wouldn’t I be good?”

Her pendulum shift in emotions makes me grin. No doubt all that nervous energy running through her veins has her on edge. Not to mention, this little Birdie is known for the way her moods can shift from 0 to 60 in one second flat.

“I don’t know,” I respond quietly as Maureen from hair and makeup pats my nose and forehead with some kind of brush. “I mean, you’re getting ready to film the first scene for your first movie…ever. Most people might feel some anxiety about that, but not you. You’re cool as a cucumber. No worries or fears about fucking anything up. Just straight-up relaxed and ready to go, right?” I question with a little wink.

She rolls her eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”

I tilt my head to the side, and Maureen huffs out a sigh as she has to adjust her current task of making sure my stage makeup works with the lighting. “And what is it I’m doing, sweetheart?”

“You’re trying to get me all riled up,” she replies and crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s what you did in my audition. I should probably remind you, it’s why I ended up slapping you.”

I grin back at her. “Was that also why you kissed me like I was your sole source of oxygen?”

Those pretty eyes of her narrow. “You wish I’d kissed you like that.”

“Again,” I add, and she quirks a brow. “I wish you’d kiss me like that again.”

“Excuse me?” Her jaw drops, and I flash a knowing smirk in her direction.

“As you know, the kiss between Cal and Arizona that we’re about to film, it leads to the next scene in the film, where they have wild, passionate sex. So, I hope you’ll be able to dig deep, and somehow, find a way to be an actress and make sure Arizona kisses Cal like that again.”

Her eyes narrow, but just as she is about to open her pretty little lips to spit something back in my direction, Howie grabs our attention.

“All right, guys. I think we’re all set,” he says and sits down in his director’s chair, right behind the monitor with all the camera angle playbacks. He slips on his headphones and nods toward Paulie.

“Quiet on set!” one of Howie’s assistants shouts. “Scene 32, Take 1! Action!”

Silence fills my ears, and the first soft drops of rain begin to fall from above us.

Dimly lit streetlights speckled between the otherwise darkness show that night is upon us, and Arizona and Cal stand in the middle of an empty alleyway.

They’ve just finished a show, and Arizona is pissed at Cal for acting like a caveman in front of Jude, the drummer in Arizona’s band. The band Cal put together, and the drummer, who might be one of Cal’s best friends, but has been showing far too much affection for Ari.

He’s pissed. Annoyed. Fucking losing his mind over how badly he wants her.

And she’s fighting every urge inside her body that is telling her to give in to her desire for Cal.

At this point in the film, they’ve been on the road together for three months, playing show after show, riding in tour buses, spending just about every waking moment together. And both of their minds and hearts are at war. A tug-of-war of push and pull, temptation and denial, lust and lies, passion and pain.

Rain pelts from the fake sky above me, dripping into my hair and clothes, but just as I’m about to dive into the scene, I glance down at the woman standing beside me and I can tell she’s still a nervous little Birdie.

She’s not ready. She hasn’t built up steam in her fiery engine of confidence…yet.

Raindrops run down her face and her long lashes blink once, twice, three times, and she digs her teeth into her full bottom lip. Fucking hell. There’s no feisty attitude, no defiance, no fierce words sitting on her tongue, ready to be thrown in my face.

Aside from her appearance and her costume, she couldn’t be any less Arizona in this moment.

I turn my back away from the cameras and stare down the alleyway behind us.

Trying to be discreet, I whisper quietly enough for her ears only, “Just standing there and looking pretty isn’t going to cut it, sweetheart.”

Her eyes snap to mine.

“This isn’t a read-through anymore,” I add on in another whisper. “You’re going to have to actually act.”