Hazed (Palm South University)

With a little time to kill before I’m needed anywhere else, I decide to take the matter of the guest list into my own hands, and I can’t fight off the satisfied smile that spreads on my face with the thought.

After all, I’ve been working in this industry, in this city, for almost two years now.

And I know just who to invite.

THERE’S SOMETHING INCREDIBLY HOT about watching your man work on what he’s passionate about.

I’ve known about Kip’s passion for the film industry ever since before we even officially started dating. I know he’s obsessed with television, specifically that he has dreams of creating a series viewers can’t help but be obsessed with. I’ve seen the posters on his walls, the podcasts filling his phone, the documentary DVDs spilling out of his dresser back at UCLA.

But it’s something altogether different to see him in his element.

I smile, sipping my coffee as I relax in the casting director’s chair Kip made just for me. It was a joke, of course, but I appreciate the fancy place to sit with my fake title on the back anyway. While I’ve been chiming in now and then with my thoughts, I’m mostly here for support.

And to watch his fine ass in director mode.

I love the way his glasses keep falling down the bridge of his nose as he examines audition notes on his clipboard, his brows furrowed in concentration. I love the messy way his blond hair is styled, the waves mussed from him scrubbing his hands through them. I love the smiles he flashes when he encourages someone auditioning to try again, giving them notes for a better application. I love how even dressed in a white button down and navy dress pants, I can imagine his lean muscles ebbing and flowing beneath the fabric.

More than anything, I just love that he’s here.

At Palm South.

With me.

I was unsure when he first told me he was going to make a show about our story, about all the games we played, the lies we told, the rough and rocky road we had to take to get to where we are today. But I know this is about more than just us. It’s about exploring the grief he feels over losing his father, and the complicated relationship they had while he was alive. It’s also a commentary on young love, on college, on finding yourself while also finding a relationship.

Whatever he does with our story, I know it will be amazing. Because it’s him creating it.

I smile a little more, inhaling the sweet scent of my latte. I’m in a state of peaceful calm and just taking in all the scenery.

That is, until my doppelgänger walks through the door.

Kip rented the smaller of the three auditoriums on campus for auditions, so everyone is waiting in the hallway until they’re called in for their turn. So far, we’ve seen auditions for Kip, his dad, my parents, Kade, all the girls, and some extras. Kip must have been saving the auditions for me for last.

That makes me smile, too.

Still, the sight of the girl who just walked in makes me dizzy. Her long, brown hair is the same shade as mine, pinpoint straight and parted just how I part my own. Her lashes are a little longer than mine, her skin a bit fairer, and I’d give just about anything to have her amazing lips. But her eyes are the same shade of blue that I see reflected in the mirror every morning, and her tight little athletic body reminds me of how I looked when I was at my prime.

It’s unsettling and exciting, all in the same breath.

She looks a little nervous, waiting by the door. Kip is engrossed in a conversation with one of the students he brought on to help with casting, reviewing notes from the last audition. So, when the girl’s eyes flick to me, I smile and usher her over, patting the empty chair next to me.

She blushes, looking around for a second before she smiles and makes her way toward me. The closer she gets, the dizzier I feel, but I fight past the feeling with a grin of my own.

“Hey there,” I say when she’s standing in front of me. “I bet I can guess which part you’re going for.”

She chuckles, tucking her hair behind one ear. “Skyler Thorne?”

“In the flesh,” I answer, waving a hand over myself dramatically. “What’s your name?”

“Natalia Colburn.”

My brows shoot up. “Wow. You already have a movie-star name.”

“Right? That’s what I told my parents when I was twelve. I said, ‘You already gave me the name. Now I just have to win the lead in the school play.’”

“And did you?”

At that, Natalia cocked a brow, looking down at herself before she gave me a pointed look. “What do you think?”