Tim pulls me from my stormy attitude. “Bree? Let’s keep walking. You’re down this way.”
The moment I have to drop Nathan’s hand, my stomach twists. I did not anticipate being this nervous to leave his side. It’s just that I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m not even given a chance to look back at Nathan before Tim has us practically jogging down the hallway.
“I know you don’t have a manager, so Nathan has me acting as yours today, if that’s okay with you?” He doesn’t give me a chance to actually answer. “Your dinner is also in your dressing room, but Nathan had me order you chicken tacos from Chipotle, extra guac. Was that right?” He flings open a dressing room door and the smell of delicious tacos slaps me in the face. A little smile curls my lips because…I wasn’t forgotten. Nathan thought ahead to have them cater my favorite meal.
“That’s perfect.”
“Great. This is Dylan”—he points toward a smiling guy who looks about my age and is laying out makeup brushes on the beauty counter—“and he’s going to be doing your hair and makeup. Joy will be by in a bit to drop off your wardrobe. Eat fast—we have an hour until you’re needed on set. Harrison, the director, and Cindy, the producer, will be by at some point to talk to you about the script. Don’t post any photos of anything happening today, leave that up to me. And if you need something, ask me and no one else. Do you need anything?”
I shake my head quickly, feeling a little shell shocked from that tornado of a speech.
“Good. I’ll be back in twenty. She’s yours now, Dylan.” Before he fully walks out of the room, Tim stops and turns back to me. “Oh, and Bree? I’m glad you and Nathan are together. He’s better with you.” I guess Tim hasn’t been filled in on the actual terms of our relationship and the fact that we are Proda.
Tim disappears through the door, and I let out a deep breath.
Dylan chuckles. “Are you ready for your name quiz now? List everyone he just mentioned in perfect order or you’re kicked off the set.” The sparkle in his eyes gives him away.
“Umm, was it Sam, Brittney, and Tina?” I answer incorrectly on purpose.
He laughs again and steps forward to extend his hand. “Ding-ding-ding! Correct. And now you win a delicious taco dinner!”
“I was sort of hoping for a car,” I say with a bummed face as he guides me to the makeup chair.
“Well, you’re in luck! This extra guac your boyfriend requested for you has the same value as a car. Maybe you could pawn it for extra cash or something?”
I love him. The surest way to my heart is to play along with bad jokes. He’s almost helping me forget I’m on a set right now and my whole world as I know it is turning upside down.
“I’m Bree, by the way,” I say as he plops a glorious-smelling Chipotle box in my hands.
“Oh, I know. Even if your name wasn’t plastered outside the door and I hadn’t been given a photo of you ahead of time, I’d still know those dimples anywhere. You’ve been all over my Instagram and Twitter feed lately.” He immediately starts sliding his fingers through my hair in an inspecting and appreciating sort of way. “I won’t even pretend I’m not slightly obsessed with you and your curls and dimples. I almost died when they hired me to do your hair and makeup. When I told my boyfriend, he was so jealous his skin actually turned green.”
I laugh and make a weird face because A） I don’t know how to take compliments, and B） He can’t be serious. I’m the most average person who’s ever walked the face of the earth.
“These?” I bat my hand at my curls. “Bleh. They’re ridiculously hard to tame.”
He looks offended as he claps a hand over his heart. “Who said anything about taming?! Why would anyone want to subdue these gorgeous curls? No, I’m planning to put even more pep in their step.” Dylan moves behind me, eyeing my curls from all angles in that intense way only hairstylists do when they are imagining what could be. It’s a little terrifying.