Chapter 1: Chemistry Read
I sneezed into my elbow, my throat burning, as I reached for a tissue on the nightstand of the queen sized bed of our small hotel room. Everyone I'd ever known was back home in Minnesota, while I was in LA after being cast as Nora Grey in the film series of The Hush, Hush Saga, missing school for that matter, as well as my job. I'd been cast three months ago, the director saying that I had the "sweet girl image" for the part, when in truth, I didn't care as long as I got to be a part of making this movie; I'd fallen in love with the books instantly when they'd come out. Ever since I'd been told that I got the part, I was reading for auditions for Patch Cipriano, my love interest, ever since, hardly having any time for my school work. It had been going well, in my opinion, until, of course, I caught a severe cold that left the auditions to reading with the directors.
At the very least, they'd narrowed down the search in my absence, just having to go through a few more callbacks and read-throughs. But the entire time that they got everything done, I'd been cooped up in this hotel room that I shared with my manager, Abigail, who also was my temporary caretaker for the moment. She was young for management, but better at it than most experienced managers in Hollywood. She'd tried to make a career of her own since she'd been merely twelve years old, but gave up on it when she figured out that she'd been doing it all wrong at the age of twenty six, that specific detail being that she'd done it without a manager. Her parents had done what they could to help her through her teen years and a bit beyond, but once she reached twenty one, they thought that it might be time to start a realistic career, and just have acting as something on the side; she wasn't having that, knowing that if she wanted to make it work, she'd have to put everything that she had into it, one-hundred percent. She did get some roles, but nothing more than a simple commercial or something, nothing to blow her career up to where it needed to be to become a success. After fourteen years of chasing after a dream that could become nothing more than that itself, she finally got a job as a bank teller in a small town called Detroit Lakes, Minnesota; where she found me two years later.
I'd been fourteen years old, and starring as a supporting role in a local play in our Holmes Theater where she still loved to watch the youth portray stories that she'd watched numerous times, but continued to love every time. She figured that if no one could watch her anymore, then she might as well come and support those that she could. After my minimum amounts of monologue, and brief stage time, I was met backstage by a twenty eight year old woman with her shoulder length blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail, gathered at the nape of her neck. She smiled brightly at me, offering her hand.
"I'm Abigail," she'd started, shaking my hand.
I'd stared at her, confused, still in costume. My eyebrows furrowed, shaking her hand hesitantly, causing her to chuckle. "I saw your performance tonight, and I must say, you remind me of a much younger version of myself," she continued. "I see something in you, something that needs to shine," she said, laughing at her own cliche.
"Um . . . " I mumbled, unsure of what to say. Most probably wouldn't either if some random woman in her twenties came up to you backstage of a play when she didn't even know your name. "Can I help you with anything . . . ?" I asked lamely, my fingers fidgeting with my costume.
She laughed. "Well, I should be the one asking you that. I was wondering if you'd ever considered going into show-buisness - professionally, I mean."
I stared at her again, not knowing how to react. Was she offering something? What was she trying to say? I'd only been acting for the past six months since my dad and sister had died . . . "Um, what?"
She smiled patiently. "I was wondering if you'd like to make a career out of this? Have you thought about it?"
Of course I'd thought about it, but hadn't everyone with a dream? You didn't really even have to have a dream of it, most had just thought of it anyway . . . "Well, yeah, but - "
"Then why not? I saw you out there; you love what you do, I can see it. You just wish that someone would recognize it other than those who you have to tell. Lucky for you, I noticed, along with several other audience members," she interrupted me. Could she have been offering . . . no, she couldn't have been, I was inexperienced. "I was wondering if you'd like to start auditioning for small roles - or just shoot for the bigger ones, if that's what you'd prefer - but try to go for things like TV shows, commercials, even movies? You could even do Broadway if you wanted to. I know, that's getting ahead of myself, and I don't want to get your hopes up, because you'll have to get used to hearing the word 'no' in this business, but I see so much potential in even such a small part, I can't even begin to imagine what you'd be like as a lead," she smiled, her eyes years away.
My heart was soaring, my thoughts flying a million miles a minute. She saw acting potential in me, a girl who would show up to school in skinny jeans and high heels, looking like a cry for attention, and then would go and sit in the back corner of a classroom, praying to God that she wouldn't be called on in class, knowing that it'd only draw unnecessary attention to herself. I stared at Abigail disbelievingly, trying to find my voice to speak.
"So are you interested?" she asked, her voice hopeful.
I gave her a slight nod, unable to help the dorky smile that stretched across my lips.
She grinned. "It was nice meeting you . . . " She checked her program. "Lacey. I hope that you get back to me," she said as she handed me a pastel post-it note with seven digits.
I smiled down at it before looking back up to her, finally finding the will to speak. "It was nice to meet you, too, Abigail. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it," I said, my voice filled with gratitude as I turned towards the dressing rooms to change.
That had been the best day of my life, approaching three years ago. She was right; she saw something in me that needed to come out to shine. We always laughed about that, calling it our "secret cliche" whenever we brought it up. Since that day, she graciously accepted the different point of view in the acting world with open arms. I was always asking if she was really okay with the fact that she got to watch me live her dream, but she always said that that was the very best part; knowing that she made something that hadn't been able to be accomplished for her, possible for someone else. I could tell she still wanted it herself, but she always claimed that I was her priority.
I'd been emancipated for the past year, having lost my mom to pneumonia a year ago when the last person in my family that I had was still around. Both my mom and my dad's sides of the family wouldn't speak to me, claiming that I was a cursed reason for the death of three beloved ones, all three of whom I shared a bloodline with. They weren't going to forgive me, that much was clear.
At the very least, I was able to keep my friends. They were a lot closer to me now than ever, even with all the miles that separated us, they understood what I was going through, and that I needed them more than ever. I always felt bad for one of them, my stunningly beautiful friend, Keira, who always watched my dog, a basset hound named Hampton, whenever I wasn't able to bring him with me, which was a lot, due to the fact that most hotels didn't allow dogs. He was kind of a handful sometimes, always being lazy like his breed was stereotyped to be, and then BOOM; burst of energy. He'd grab a squeaker toy, squeaking it non-stop while running laps throughout the house, several times hip-checking the walls that were always too sharp of a turn for his long body. It was funny, don't get me wrong, but after a while, it just got down-right annoying. And Keira had to deal with that when I was gone.
"Lace? You doing any better?" Abigail asked from the doorway, pulling me out of my reverie.
"Uh, kinda, I guess. I think it might be gone by tomorrow," I confirmed, getting up to go to the bathroom.
She was quick to push me back onto the bed. "Nuh-uh, lay back down. You aren't going to get any better if you keep moving. Just because you got the part, doesn't mean that they can't take it back," she pointed out. She'd basically become my motherly figure since my own was gone. Nothing could ever replace my real mom, but she was a close second.
I rolled my eyes. "Abi, I have to go to the bathroom, relax," I smirked weakly as I made my way to the bathroom, shaking my head at her overprotectiveness.
After a day of resting and trying to convince Abigail that I was fine, I settled in for the night, pulling the covers over my body, sniffling as I laid on my side, waiting for unconsciousness to take over.
I woke up to the windows drawn open, a bright blue sky lighting up the hotel room as I squinted, trying to gather my surroundings. I stretched, inhaling deeply; my sinuses were clearer today, my body filled with a little more energy. I was still a little stuffy, and my voice congested, but I could easily answer when Abigail called my name from the bathroom where she straightened her naturally wavy blonde hair.
"Hey, Lace? How you feeling today?" she asked, setting her phone down when I walked in.
I shrugged. "Better. I can do things today, at the very least," I said, sitting on the closed toilet. (A/N: Yes, I realize that that sounds weird when you read it, but just go with it, we've all done it before.)
She smiled. "Well, they think that they might've found our Patch, but don't wanna cast him until they know for sure that you two have screen chemistry. You up for a read today?"
I thought about it for a moment before nodding. "As long as there's no make-out scenes that we have to do, I think that I'm good," I chuckled.
She laughed. "Well, Start getting ready, we have to be there in an hour."
I nodded, turning on the shower before going to grab what I needed. After quickly washing up, I wrapped a towel around my body, walking to the door to peek out at Abigail. "How much time do I have?" I asked, hoping for the best, knowing that I took unreasonably long showers.
"Twenty minutes, get moving!" she scolded, making a shoo type of gesture with a flick of her hand, her gray eyes urgent.
My eyes widened, rushing to quickly dress, which, I gotta admit, I wasn't putting in as much effort as I normally do, just throwing on a pair of washed-out skinny jeans, with an electric blue camisole under a white V-neck with the Harley Davidson logo on it. I stared at my face in the mirror for a moment, noticing how I was paler than usual, no color to my unfortunately round face, which did nothing to work with my hazel eyes that people were always mistaking the color for, nothing of my body matching, very disproportionate. I was short, and got a lot of crap for it all the time, but I learned to accept it . . . as well as the fact that I discovered that I walked good in heels. Even though I barely cleared five feet in height, I still managed to have fairly long legs, but do to the fact that I was curvy in the butt and chest - much to my very awkward dismay - I couldn't seem to ever get anything to fit correctly. I sighed, feeling as if everything had to be custom made some days. My nose was a bit bigger than I'd have liked it to have been. My friends said that it looked fine, but that's what good friends do these days; they lie to you to preserve your feelings, even though you both know that it's a lie; that's just how us teenage girls work.
I did the best I could to get the moisture out of my long, chocolate brown hair, but ended up leaving it a bit damp, so that I could finish sooner, it hanging just low enough to be called long. I didn't have any time for makeup, but I also felt like shit too, so I went without.
I walked out, pulling on a pair of regular black converse as I spoke. "'Kay, I'm ready to go," I said to Abigail.
She nodded, ushering me out the door, to the studio.
Traffic was hell, I'll admit. We rushed into the room, five minutes late for the read-through.
Abi was quick to defend me. "I am so sorry, this is not Lacey's fault, traffic was awful, and - "
"Don't sweat it, Taylor's not here yet either, so you can relax," Chris, our director said. Christopher Headbrooks was a very laid back man, but knew how to get the job done well. He'd already received several Oscar nominations, having won three of them; we were lucky to have him in this production.
"Taylor?" I asked, having no clue who they were talking about.
He smiled knowingly. "He's doing the read-through with you."
I nodded. At least I knew his name. Abigail joined Chris and the rest of the producers in more professional talk while I sat on a plastic chair, bored out of my mind while we waited for this Taylor to come in. I realize that it probably sounded ungrateful of me to say that I was bored while everything that I could ever dream of was coming true, but I'm a seventeen year old girl; I get bored, I get distracted, I have hormones - stuff like that happens.
"Oh, there you are. Were you stuck in traffic too?" Chris's voice pulled me out of thought, well, out of staring at the ground, trying to pick out patterns in the speckled, multicolored carpet.
I looked up, nearly falling off my seat, gripping the sides of the chair for support at who walked in.
Patch Cipriano's physical description from the books flashed through my mind; bronze skin, black eyes, dark hair.
God! I'm so stupid! I knew that they said that his name was Taylor, but they failed to mention that it was Taylor Lautner!
Memories of my Twilight obsession started to flood back to me. I had been out of control. I knew things that no one should ever know about the cast members, had a favorite page in each book, found something Twilight-related in just about everything I did, got a reputation for being a Harry Potter hater when I wasn't, and chanted "TEAM SWITZERLAND!" at the mere mention at the Team Edward VS. Team Jacob argument. I could go on, but there isn't enough time in the world.
It took me a moment to notice the figure standing in front of me, an easy voice pulling me out of my thoughts. Kind eyes and a gleaming white smile stared down at me. Did he say something? I noticed that his tanned hand was extended to me. I shook it, my hand lost in his grasp, as I tried to gather my thoughts. "I don't always look like this," I blurted out, closing my eyes when I realized that I shouldn't have.
He let out his unusual laugh that I'd heard a million times on YouTube, the sound so much more enticing in person. "That's alright. I'm Taylor."
I tried to smile, probably failing to look convincing. I couldn't tell, I was still shaken up. "I'm Lacey, I'm a huge fan," I added, my voice still shaky. I prayed to God that he didn't think that I was just another insane fan, even though that's basically how I was; I just didn't want there to be a weird air between us, I mean, there was a chance that I'd have to work with him for the next few years, I didn't want to mess it up by making it awkward. In my peripheral vision, I caught Abigail snickering to some female standing next to her; I made a mental note to kill her later.
He smiled, nearly causing my heart to break. I had to remember that he was twenty. And I was seventeen. The thought was kind of heartbreaking, but I mentally brushed it off. "I look forward to working with you."
"Likewise," I murmured, unable to speak real loud, but slowly starting to come out of the shock that had built up within the seconds that they did.
"So, are you two ready, or do you need to take a look at the lines?" Chris intruded.
Taylor shrugged. "I'm good to go . . . " He looked to me, his deep brown eyes asking if I was ready myself.
Shit. Brown eyes. My weakness.
I gulped. Twenty years old . . . Seventeen years old.
I nodded, standing, a stressed-looking woman handing each of us a draft of the script. We both sat at the seats they directed us to, both facing each other directly. He flashed a brief smile of confidence to me. I tried to fake one back, unable to grasp the situation. I resisted slapping my forehead; he was the one trying to score a role, not me - I already had it in the bag. I took a deep breath, somewhat assured by the thought.
We started.
The scene was where Nora was trying to get answers out of Patch for their school Biology project, so she finds him in a pool hall where he spends a lot of his time gambling.
"Sorry about hanging up; reception kinda sucks around here," Taylor began in a half-distracted voice.
I envisioned a pool table in front of me, feigning surprise. "So . . . eight ball? I didn't know you were a gambler. How high're the stakes?" I asked, sounding curious.
He smirked. "Money isn't exactly what we play for around here."
"Really? Because I'd have bet everything against you by now." He snickered. I rolled my eyes. "If you can just give me a few answers, I'll be out before you know it."
"Whoa, wait - jerk? Cancer?" He gaped, as he pretended to examine a partially completed list of what Nora knew about Patch.
I pretended to ignore him. "So how much do you smoke a night? One cigar? Two?"
He rolled his eyes. "I don't smoke."
I snickered. "Right."
"You're interfering with the game," He rolled his eyes, a grin pulling at his lips.
I flashed a sly grin. "Oh? Well, I hope that the odds aren't in your favor. So what's your biggest dream?"
"To kiss you," he grinned, my face involuntarily reddening, even though it didn't mean anything; we were acting.
"That's not funny, you know," I pointed out, my voice shaking slightly.
"Hey - I got you to blush though," he smirked, running a hand through his ink black hair.
I bit my lip. "So, do you work?"
He nodded. "Over at that mexican place."
"What's your religion?" I continued.
He bit his full lip, causing my heart to stutter. "I think you have enough answers."
"Religion?" I asked again, trying to sound firm.
He sighed, looking down, looking as if something were hidden in his eyes. "I don't really participate in
I gaped. "Cult?" I repeated, trying to sound shocked.
"Actually, it's a good thing you're here. I'm kind of in need of a healthy female sacrifice, and I was gonna try to get you to trust me more first, but hey, there's no time like the present," he smirked evilly, somehow heartbreakingly.
I took a deep breath, shooting him a glare. "If you're trying to impress me, it's not working."
"Who said I was trying?"
I paused for a moment as he locked gazes with me, both of our eyes roaming the other's face. I blinked. "So I heard from a friend that you're a senior? How many times have you failed tenth grade biology to where you need to again?" I raised my eyebrows.
"I can be my own spokesperson, thank you very much," he responded.
I opened my mouth to continue, but we were interrupted by Chris's easy voice. "I think we've got all that we need guys, thank you for your time." I looked over to see him with a thoughtful grin on his face. I turned back to Taylor, who was smiling as bright as he did when we first met.
"Even better than what I've seen," he smiled.
I flushed. "Thanks," I mumbled, turning to the door to find a drinking fountain. My throat was still dry from my cold, but I was glad that I was well enough for right now. Although, I kind of regretted not putting more effort into how I looked, despite the fact that I was still sick.
Twenty . . . Seventeen.
Taylor was right on my trail. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?" He asked, catching up to walk right beside me.
I shrugged. Of course I didn't mind. "Shoot," I smiled.
He grinned back, his teeth showing like white pearls as we reached the water fountain. "How did you do that?"
I glanced at him as I gathered my hair to one side. "Do what?" I asked, confused.
"You blushed. I've seen a lot in the past few years, but I've never seen someone blush on command," he explained, leaning against the wall. "I realize that it's really small, but still, it's hard enough to cry on command, let alone gather enough emotion to blush."
The words caused me to do just that. My cheeks heated to a deep scarlet as I bent my face to the fountain. "Thanks," I mumbled before taking a drink. I pulled up, wiping my lips. "And I don't know how I did it," I lied smoothly, meeting his chocolate gaze. I gulped.
He looked disappointed. "Too bad. I was hoping to lean something from you," he let out his contagious, laugh, causing me to giggle with him. "So how long have you been acting?"
"Well, I started when I was fourteen so that would be . . . three years," I concluded after doing the easy math in my head.
He raised his eyebrows. "Really? Only three? Wow, you must have a lot of experience then within those three years, I'd have thought the majority of your life, but you proved me wrong."
I blushed again. "What about you?"
"Twelve years," he smiled, seeming as if he'd answered the question millions of times.
I didn't know what else to say, which is weird, because if I were to realistically imagine our first meeting, it would probably be more of me firing one question after another, as he thought I was insane. I shook the thought away.
"Taylor, come on," a tall woman called down the hall.
He sighed, pushing himself off of the wall. "I've gotta go - see you later, it was a pleasure meeting you," he smiled one last time as he took a few backwards steps to the direction that he had to go.
I smiled like an idiot. "You too, see you."
He grinned as he turned and walked off.
I started to go and find Abigail, walking the direction that we'd came. I resisted the urge to scream, smiling brighter than I ever had before, which was rare, due to the fact that I never really full-on smiled, because I thought that my smile was cheesy, although everyone always argued otherwise.
I went to bed that night with the largest grin on my face, hardly able to believe my life for what it was. Needless to say, Taylor got the part. Then I realizes something.
I was cast as the lead role in a movie. With Taylor Lautner. I would be working with Taylor Lautner - for the next four years.
These four years were going to go faster than ever before.
A/N: Thank you for reading chapter one! This was something that had been boggling my mind for a while now, so I thought I'd share it with you. I'd appreciate it if you could please let me know if you like it or not, because I'm not sure whether or not I'm gonna continue it. If you guys like it, I sure will, and you never know, I've been known for just doing what I feel, no matter what others say, but still, I'd like to know if this is a topic that's even remotely appealing to readers. I really appreciate the fact that you even considered clicking on my story to read it, let alone reading this far, even though it's one chapter! (More to come!) If you have any suggestions for story ideas, I'm all ears, I kind of need other activities that should happen in this, and I'll give credit to whoever gives the idea, so don't expect me to claim such as my own! Thank you guys, you're awesome!
I would love you guys forever if you would please check out my "Robsten" opinion poll on my profile page! Please? BIG thanks to those who do, I'm really curious, and am greatful that you'd take a few minutes to take it!
Note: This story is also on Quotev .com
By the way, no, I haven't heard anything of whether or not they're going to make a Hush, Hush movie, I just thought that it fit.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Twilight, or Hush, Hush, or Taylor Lautner [unfortunately]
