Sorry for the delay, I got writer's block. Plus, I don't think I'll manage to post anything this week or the week after that: my aunt, my uncle and my 2 year old nephew are visiting from Germany and I have to play babysitter and translator. And I also have the final trimester tests this weekend, and unless a miracle happens and I gain 10 IQ points, I won't be able to do all of this in 4 more days. Thanks, and sorry again.
The launch party was loud and boisterous. People with brand-new tuxes and dresses skittered around the dance floor, flirting, mocking, talking and making deals. Waiters served alcohol at an alarming rate, the bar was full, and the music was obscenely high.
Mitchie was to the side, forced into a conversation with the executive producer of some liberal journal and an aspiring actress. Both of them had only one objective, clear as day: make Mitchie talk. About herself, about the book, about her life.
She felt suffocated. As an introvert, she preferred staying home or with a small group of close friends; but here they were well past midnight and there were at least 120 people in just one ballroom, all of which wanting to talk to her.
"... the journal would be enchanted if you gave it a chance..."
"... I think I've been picking the wrong scripts..."
Someone put a hand to the side of her hip. Mitchie tensed, her face betraying nothing. The faces of her unwanted interlocutors morphed into delight.
"Shane Gray!" The producer said jovially.
And then Shane showed his press side, giving the man a cool nod. The actress giggled, and Shane turned to her with a smirk.
His hand was soft and warm against her side. Shane was outwardly being confident, but his hand was tentative, as if he didn't want to scare her off.
Wordlessly, Mitchie turned around and walked to the balcony. Shane followed closely. He sped up just to open the door for her, after making sure no one saw it.
The party was being held at the top floor of a Manhattan building. The city lights were bright and alive at the crisp weather; Mitchie tightened the jacket over her shoulders.
"Hi." Shane said after a brief pause.
Mitchie had no idea to why he was so shy around her, but she had to admit it was cute. "Hey, Shane."
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable in there," he gestured with his head. "But you seemed overwhelmed and stressed-out. Thought you might want some fresh air."
"Thanks." She said. "I didn't know you were coming."
"Well, I am doing the movie version of your books," he replied, looking out into the city. "And I am kind of a fan, so I really wanted to."
"Your agent okay with that?"
"Who cares. He's not my boss anymore."
The corner of her lip turned up. "Alright."
There was a lull in the conversation; she longed to break it, but she had no idea what to say.
"Hey, um, I wanted to ask you something." Shane crossed his arms self-consciously.
"What?"
At this point, Mitchie was already used to the awkwardness in their friendship. Shane was terrible at making honest conversations- she'd seen interviews of his fake persona and he was a smooth liar; but in reality he felt a need to ramble, state things he didn't need to. Sometimes he orbited around a topic for a long time before he expressed his opinion.
It made her wonder exactly how his agent, his producer and all the people who turned him into The Shane Gray made him feel like. Probably, deep down, he really thought he was that arrogant jerk; for some reason, this possibility made her sad.
"I'm doing a Lord of the Rings marathon tomorrow," he said slowly. "And I wanted you to watch them with me. It's not like a date, or anything, but I could use- I could use some company."
She was pleasantly surprised. "Sounds great. But don't you have anyone else to watch them with?"
"You're my only friend."
Mitchie lost her breath for a half second. "Yeah, I'll go."
"Awesome."
"But only if there's food."
"Lots of food."
"'Kay. Good."
Shane lived in a condo in Tribeca. Mitchie took the subway and walked the rest of the way, thankfully incognito. A doorman opened the door for her; Shane must've told him she was coming. She smiled at the guy and got in.
He opened the door; his smile lit up his eyes. "Hey. Thanks for coming."
"My pleasure." She replied. She shrugged out of her coat and he took it from her, hanging it in a coat room to the left. "Just don't laugh at me when I repeat everything every character says."
"I do the same thing..."
