And They Told Me I Couldn't Act

TAKE 20

THE TRUTH WAS I didn't want to go to Priya's party but I found myself here just the same. We'd gone in and the minute everyone realised Harry was there, he'd been whisked up with fans who all wanted to talk to him.

I don't know why Harry worries so much. He's a good actor, and the acting lessons I've taught him have become our little game, a game we'd played once and one I - unabashedly won. But if the handholding, the tightness in his eyes suggested, it's a game we'd play again till he'd won and I'd say the safe word.

For now? I'm safe in the throws of people who come to talk, for a picture, or a question.

Priya's house was - a little surprising. It's clear from the lavish Olympus-themed decoration that adorns her house that Priya's beginnings aren't exactly humble. Soft pop ballads play from a surround sound house system while waiters in white and black tuxedos walk around with drinks in their arms.

She keeps the lights on dim when it's clear she can easily afford to keep them brighter. Was this some style, an aesthetic she was trying to go for? Poor but not poor?

A waiter walks past me and I take a glass of wine while I stroll through the Mansion that Priya stays in. I'm not the type of person to say no to anything free. What kind of New Yorker would I be if I did say no?

Even now, with Harry Wolfe's team funding my lifestyle, I'm still the same frugal me who'll always snag a good deal.

The wine? It tastes good, sweet, and tart. I don't know what I expected, maybe Harry and I walking around together, being flocked by people. It's clear that Harry Wolfe is still the star of this arrangement.

From the Olympus-themed living room, I have a clear view of Priya's pool, it's blissfully empty with the majority of the party focused indoors. I'm feeling a little down with everyone hogging Harry Wolfe, so I decide I'd like a bit of air and a chance to snoop further on her patio.

So I opened the glass doors and walked out to sit beside the pool. The water is still, the pool a pretty turquoise instead of the blue I've always seen in a public pool.

"What are you doing out here?" I hear from behind me. I turn around to see Christopher, his six foot three frame moving towards me a glass of white wine elegantly held in his hand. "The party is inside."

"So it is," I reply, taking a sip of mine.

He steps closer, "You alright?"

"I always am," I reply.

"I suppose so," he says wryly, "but I just saw Emma throw herself at Harry Wolfe."

"Throw herself?" I ask.

"She was drunk when the two of you came, so I guess her usual admire from-afar approach didn't work."

"No kidding," I smile at this. I'm not jealous. Harry Wolfe wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his image, much less with one of my cast mates. Maybe Sarah Barbella, but not Emma.

"How did you meet?" Christopher asks taking the poolside chair right beside mine.

"You're curious," I tease, "are you sad he's beaten you to the chase?"

"If I said yes, would there have been a difference?"

I pause. His voice was calm, cool, normal even. Am I over-reading the situation? I hope not. But already, I'm reacting in a way I didn't think I would. My mouth drops hung a little. I mean, we've been working together, intensively for the last two months, but I hadn't even begun to think that anyone liked me.

I'd been prickly, yes. You could argue I'm close to Emma, but even then. I turn to look at him, the turquoise pool glints off his face, and I see it - that pretty boy look in his features, big eyes, sharp nose, sharp jaw, and baby pink lips circling the glass as he drinks a bit more white wine.