Could this day get any worse?
“You mean other than try not to puke over the fact that you’re putting the weight of the movie on my shoulders? Yeah sure, what next? You need a kidney? Two maybe? Because we all know my liver’s probably not a good option.”
“I forgot how funny you could be when you’re not trying to play the part of the bitch.” He winked.
I glared willing all the squid to come to shore and strangle him to death.
“Turn around very slowly, make eye contact with Will, and when you do, I want you to tell me what you feel.”
“I’m not playing this game.” I crossed my arms.
Jay grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me until I had no choice but to see Will’s face, he was laughing with Lincoln, one of the extras walked by him, stopped, giggled, then asked for his autograph. She should be fired from set for that. I rolled my eyes.
“I feel… irritated.”
“Try again.”
“Why are we doing this?” By now people were starting to turn their heads toward us, including Will. Great just what I needed, more attention without my armor.
Without makeup.
Sexy clothing.
Without a shield.
His nostrils flared the minute we made eye contact, his half-lidded glare was filled with a mixture of heat and hatred. All I wanted to do was run. Jay held me in place.
He asked again. “What do you feel?”
Several more people looked our way, looked at me, looked through me, judged me. Hell, the world judged me, and the one person I trusted never to do that, to always be there when I needed him, was doing the exact same thing.
“I feel…” My voice caught as Jay slowly released me, my eyes darted from right to left, so many people, so many stares, so many personal opinions about my life, my past, my even being in the movie. “I feel afraid.”
Jay sighed then said in a low voice behind me. “Now you’re ready for the scene.”
I had no time to prepare.
He walked behind the camera.
The scene slated.
“Action.”
I stared at the camera as if I’d never seen one.
I stared down the audience that would watch this movie, that would see this scene, the audience that would judge me based on the first few minutes of this movie, judge this movie on the first few minutes of seeing my face.
And suddenly, just like the waves behind me, in synchronized rhythm against the sand, tugging and shifting the earth — I crashed.
Sobs wracked my body as I fell to my knees, lifting my head to the sky as ran pounded against my face mixing with the tears that slid down my lips. Palms open I sat there, I sat there and let them judge, let them see how deep the cuts had been, how badly I’d been injured both by myself and those who promised to love me, and then on shaky legs, I stood, stumbling into the sand castle, stumbling to my knees, and then for some reason, I just, couldn’t stand.
So I crawled, then pressed my cheek against the sand as a wave crashed over my body, chilling me to my core.
Another wave followed, my drenched shirt clung to my body as salt water filled my mouth, spewing out with each heavy sob.
I was so tired of fighting.
So tired of trying to prove something only to be judged when it wasn’t the something people wanted.
I was so damn sick of trying to earn back trust I knew I didn’t deserve.
I was tired of the fight.
Maybe I was just tired that I had to.
One more wave crashed, and then for some inexplicable reason, anger followed that wave, and I was suddenly throwing my hat into the ocean, followed by my shirt, leaving me in nothing but my bra.
And then I stripped the rest of the clothes from my body, stumbled out of my jeans, and dove in head first.
I was ice.
I was death.
Dark water surrounded me.
Storm clouds gathered above me.
And it felt good.
Because for the first time in years.
The only thing I cared about.
Was feeling something other than fear.
I wasn’t sure how long I was out there, but my teeth were chattering, my body was shaking.
And suddenly arms surrounded me.
I expected them to be the rescue team.
But they weren’t the rescue team at all.
They were Will’s.
I COULDN’T LOOK away from her.
And I’d bet my entire fortune that nobody else on set could either. The sheer agony on her face was reason enough to be transfixed, but what followed was such raw, gut-wrenching emotion that it hurt to breathe, and it only got worse as she fell against the sand.
I flinched and dug my fingers into my palms, ready to spring into action to save her from the stares — from the world.
It went against every fiber of my being to watch her hurt in that way, to see the real Angelica — the one I had fallen for — expose herself to all of these strangers — the world — to the very people who stoned her when she came clean about who she really was.