A/N: Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, dogs and cats, I bring to you... *drum roll* CHAPTER 7!
And once again, here I am – oh, the joys of intended pun – thanking you for all the reviews, alerts and favorites I got to witness. I can't get enough.
I hope this one is better than the previous one, and hang on, the good stuff is coming your way in two more chapters. :D (Followed by a little bit of bad stuff...) Okay, scratch that, forget you read that, I never said it.
Best Of Me.
Well. I didn't get any sleep. Again! And this time it wasn't even all Tori's fault – yes, I blame the girl for my insomnia. But no, this time I lay awake coming up with names for my office and the boarding-room. I did end up finding two names that I am totally happy with. From now on my office will be called the Black Box – that does mean I am going to have to rename studio 1 back to Studio 1 – and the boarding-room shall be named The Dome. I don't know why, it just sounds cool. And dark.
Anyway, I hope two coffee at six can keep me going 'till nine, when I can get some more again. But I doubt it, because I am already falling asleep in my directors chair and we haven't even started filming yet. Tori and Michael, the male lead, are still in make-up and Andre is in the recording studio reading the script to get the right feeling for the songs. Kent isn't here. But he won't be, until the last two weeks of filming. Right now, it's just me, some nerd behind a camera and three people getting the set ready for the first shot. Or maybe it's just me and some nerd, I don't know because my eyes are closed and it won't be long until I'll be drooling on the hand that's keeping my head up.
"I don't think that is the image a director is supposed to set out." I feel a hand slightly squeezing my shoulder and I turn my head, looking up sleepily. Kind, brown eyes smile at me and her left hand is extended, offering me a cup of coffee.
"Want it?" She asks and I greedily take it from her. I don't understand how she can look as awake as she does, without finishing her coffee.
"What is this? Hazelnut?" I questioningly look at the cup then at her.
"I don't know, I just found it in the trash can." Trash can? Is she serious, she's feeding me garbage coffee? Oh wait. Garbage coffee. I nod knowingly and she smiles.
"Do you have photographic memory or something? Remembering all these little, insignificant things." She shrugs.
"I guess they are significant to me." And then she's called away. It all happens so fast, I am not even sure she said what I think she said. I am seriously starting to think my mind keeps making her say things she isn't actually saying. But maybe I am just overreacting, coming up with hidden meanings behind her words, reading between lines that aren't even there. It's like you're in a crowd and at first you don't notice the lonely girl in the corner because she is surrounded by so many people, but then someone points her out and you can't go back to not noticing.
Imagine this: five years after graduation, you realize you are in love with the girl you hated in high school and you cast her as the lead in your new movie. As the director, you ought to be on set – hell, this movie wouldn't be made without you there. So there you are, watching the girl you love being all touchy-feely with some guy you can't even remember casting. She's smiling all cute at him and I know it's her job to do that, I mean, I wrote it myself! But still, I can't help but... envy the guy. I guess I want her to look at me like that. She probably would have, hadn't you run like a scared baby. Ah, beautiful reality knocking me on the head. Thank you, brain, for pointing that out. Again. But I'm probably right. Though I brought her donuts, and we're fine now. We're even friends. I guess. I really shouldn't be thinking complicated thoughts at 6:30 in the morning, while I should be focusing on the scene in front of me. Poor kids, they're gonna have to do it all again, because I wasn't paying attention.
"And cut." Okay, that is the third time and I still didn't see them play the scene. I should really stop thinking at all. Or make them do it again, but the looks on their faces tell me they won't appreciate that very much. I'll just watch it back and then decide later on if we should film it again.
"Take five, everyone. We'll do the next scene in a bit. Tommy, get Times Square out." Until I am fully awake and aware and my mind is off Tori – well, for as far as that's possible with her in the same room – I'll just go with the individual scenes. One of my favorite Katherine scenes is the one where she watches her Times Square painting, only she can't remember ever painting it and she breaks down in the middle of her art gallery. There's just something about the image of a strong woman breaking down in this big, white room – feeling a stranger in an environment she created to flee from the world, in which she, ironically, felt a stranger.
"Oh, is this the scene where Katherine breaks down?" Suddenly Tori is right besides me, looking at the set being set up, and she startles me, so all I manage to get out is a simple nod. Her face lights up anyway.
"Oh my god, I absolutely love that scene. It's probably my favorite. I've read it over and over again." I look at her, mouth open. Get outta here!
"Really! There's just something about the whole image of it." She defends her point and I nod vigorously.
"It's one of my favorites, too."
"I figured. It was written differently from the rest. More detailed." Bewildered, I look down at the script in my lap. Do I really write differently when I like a scene more than usual? She laughs a little as she sees me reading the scene again and moves to stand behind me, reading over my shoulder.
"You are right." I quietly say, amazed. She noticed that? No one ever noticed that. Maybe I have never done it before. Oh great, now I am going to have to go through everything I ever wrote. And before I can sarcastically thank her for that, she's called away again. And I am left doing nothing.
Somewhere between the moment she left and now, my brain started thinking complicated things again and for the life of me I can't remember what I was thinking. It's like you want to say something and then when you get the chance to say it, it's gone. Probably because I didn't expect Tori to look so stunning in that blue dress. It reminds me of that time she held a prom at Hollywood Arts. It's a similar dress, but different. I can't really explain, I don't know what to say. I don't even know what I am thinking or supposed to think. I know that suddenly I feel scared. Scared of what I feel, for her. I have never felt like this before, so it can't be love. Because I loved Beck, right? I let him know me for me, I loved him. But I never felt like this. When he'd dress up, make an effort; I never felt like this. The skipping of my heartbeats, my breath caught in my throat, that feeling in my stomach as if something's there, something that is not supposed be there, something that feels so beautiful and pure. And then jealousy when Michael walks up to her and tells her she is beautiful, to which she replies with a smile and a hug.
"You look like you just saw a ghost." And then she's standing in front of me again, laughing. And she looks like an angel.
"More like an angel." It leaves me before I can register and I feel like high-fiving myself. In the face. And there's no escape this time. No one calling her back, no denying I said it. And I know she heard me. It's up to her now whether she acts on it or shrugs it off.
At first she looks confused, unsure if I said it or not, if she's imagining things. She blinks twice then smiles briefly.
"Thank you." And then she turns around, walking towards the set. I relax back in my chair, some sort of relief washing over me. She makes me nervous, itchy, sweaty. I never know what to say, what to do. There's a line, but I don't know exactly where. There are boundaries, lengths I shouldn't go. I know that, but why do I want to go there, cross them? Why do I have the urge to just briefly touch her? A handshake, a hug. Why does her smile steal my breath? Why have I mistaken this feeling, this love, for hate, all these years ago? I want to go back, to that day when I poured coffee all over her, but I'm not sure if I wouldn't do the same. All those pranks I pulled on her, the things I called her. It enraged me to see that she could leave it behind her with the setting of the sun. It enraged me that she gave me chance after chance, opportunity after opportunity, smile after smile. Almost as if she didn't care, as if I didn't bother her. Yet it satisfied me too, to see that she stood up to me, countered me. She didn't roll her eyes or slump down in defeat. She'd come up with her own plan and she'd win, time after time. So I'd continue – I had to win, if at least once.
I guess she had already stolen my heart then and I just had to win it back. But that was then. She can keep it, I just have to win hers.
I never thought I would see the day where I was last to leave work. Then again, I never thought I'd be owning a huge production company at 23. Yet here I am, finishing paper work and contracts, setting up deals, reading through poor scripts by pathetic writers that want a chance. Blegh.
"Jade?" I look up, the softest of voices catching my attention.
"I'm going home, good night." She smiles at me then walks away.
"'Night, Vega." Turning her head to face me, she chuckles, almost walking into a door, which makes me shake my head and chuckle in return. Some things never change. Like clumsy Tori Vega. I look down at the papers on my desk again, when ten minutes later rapid clicking is catching my attention. I shoot my head up, the sound foreign to me. Then Tori runs by in a flash, yelling in the process.
"Forgot something!" And I chuckle again. Again I look down at the papers when two minutes later a soft tapping on my door catches my attention. And I am getting super annoyed now. Old Jade would've been screaming already, I'm on the verge.
"Never thought I'd see you chuckle." Oh, that voice. It sends shivers down my spine, especially when I don't expect it.
"Never thought I'd see you all serious again." I roll my chair back and make my way to hug Cat. She's smiling and I missed that. I haven't seen that in a long time.
"I know you don't want to see that often."
"You got that right!" We laugh for a minute, until Tori returns and Cat becomes her bubbly self again. That is really how she is, she can't help it. And people love her for it, but sometimes people like me need some stability – or a hard hand to bring them back to reality – and then she'll be that stability.
"Are you ready?" Tori asks Cat, who replies with a vigorous nod.
"Oeh! Maybe Jade can come too!" Cat's face lights up, she turns to me practically jumping up and down. Serious Cat has the power to scare me, but this is pretty scary too.
"Come where?" I ask suspiciously.
"Cat and I are having a movie-night at my place. Wanna come?"
"On a weekday? You have to work tomorrow, Vega. I have to work tomorrow."
"Oh, c'mon, it'll be fun! Besides, we won't make it too late." I shake my head. I'm not going. I have a hard time getting out of bed in the morning as it is, going in at 4 A.M. – because that's how long Cat's movie-nights take – won't help things.
"Please Jade?" Cat's looking at me with these puppy dog eyes, under lip pressed out a little. Nope, still not going.
"Please?" Now Tori's doing the same. And she's always been good at that. Damn, I even hugged her once because she looked like that.
"Fine!" I throw my arms up in surrender; both Tori and Cat scream a 'yay.'
"But I won't stay too long, I want to go to bed at a reasonable time."
"You can stay at my place. Cat's staying too."
"I'm still going to bed early." And that's how two grown-up women talked another grown-up woman into a movie-night sleep-over. On a weekday!