The Love Interest

Chapter 1

Okay, so yes.

He is very much so an abominable human being- at least that's the summary I have of him thus far. Maybe he's having a bad day? Maybe him leaving my extending hand between us empty, cold, and untouched, was his way of keeping germs at bay?

Hmm. Maybe he has hepatitis B, and he doesn't want to spread it. Considerate.

The audition room only felt smaller when the authentically silk-wearing, ginger headed, casting director had gestured her hands towards the rather filled doorway to reveal him.

Him, as in a boy who's notorious for never once breaking the fourth wall in acting- but if you ask me, I think it's just because he isn't a fan of acknowledging others. Him, as in the figurine that's been plastered on one big, gigantic billboard I pass every single morning. I've always thought that intriguing photo of him pressed up against some brunette to advertise men's cologne was purely photo shop because no one can be that perfect. Boy, was I wrong. Him, as in the acorn eyed, chestnut haired- wait. Why is everything about him seemingly nutty? Acorns and chestnuts and all. It must be the universe hinting that I am nuts.

Nuts for taking on an intimate role as the lead love interest to a boy I've never even acquainted with. Nuts for crossing the country- by myself, might I add- at twenty years old to "fulfill my predestined dreams that I am determined to reach" as an actress. Not to mention my lack of a passing pay check that couldn't even pay a single months rent in Los Angeles- but someone once said that the universe knows your deadlines right to the wire.

Am I putting too much trust in the universe? Maybe so. Maybe I am nuts.

"Genevieve," the casting director regards me endearingly, "this is Eden. He's starring in the Adair Affair as Waylen McNair. Elowen's love interest."

Elowen's love interest. My love interest. Right.

I, Genevieve Hart, whom has never once kissed, touched, or even dated a boy, auditioned for a lead role in a romantic drama series that required kissing, touching, and scripted dating. With him. With Eden.

Eden, acorn-eyed, Thatcher. Great. Amazing.

Though when I looked up to greet him with a plastered smile, there seemed to be no hint of love or interest in this simple little exchange. Just a phlegmatic leer down at the script in his hands that told me that he couldn't care less if I were here or not. In fact, I don't even think he registered my existence until the casting director starting to snap her fingers in front of his face to deter his attention away from reading.

"Eden," she tries to say enthusiastically, but it comes out seething, "this is Genevieve Hart. She's auditioning to be Elowen Adair. Your love interest."

She clears her throat as I watch Eden practically tear his eyes away from the paper as if they were physically attached to them with glue.  His reluctance to meet me was almost flattering. What was even more 'almost' flattering was when he figured to regard me from my toes, to the top of my head, giving me a full body scan like his eyes were some robotic machine to see whether I was worth his time or not. I bet the results were: negative twenty for the yellow nail polish, and henna residue on her hand.

I widen my smile, trying to hide that thing inside me that says I'm being rejected. Maybe I'll get a plus one point on his eye scanner if I give him a handshake. So I do. I extend my hand in out front of me, forcing the chemistry to bind our eyes for the casting directors to see.

Chemistry. Chemistry. Chemistry. You'll get this role if you only have good chemistry with him.

"Hi, Eden. It's nice to meet you." My hand is still cold. Empty. Hand-less, even. I give him a pointed look to where my hand fell between us, then back up at him with a softened expression. "It's okay. I don't have Tuberculosis, if that's what your scared of. Plus, I washed my hands with lavender soap-"