Reel (Hollywood Renaissance 1)

I glance up and all eyes are on me before being quickly averted.

“Oh, my God,” I whisper to Takira. “They think—”

“Right. Yeah.”

Embarrassment clenches my throat, and I can barely swallow. A knot tightens in my belly. If these people, my cast, look at me like that—like I didn’t earn this after seeing me bust my butt the last three months—what will people who don’t know me at all think? But on the heels of embarrassment comes indignation. They have seen me putting in work to do my best. Seriously? Some vindictive bitch who couldn’t get her way makes a few comments and they look at me like they’re not sure?

And then I just feel . . . alone. Even with Takira standing beside me, Canon isn’t. I don’t blame him. No doubt he’s in some production meeting, exactly where he should be, but he’s not here. And I have to face the speculation and judgment I sense from my colleagues by myself. He probably doesn’t even know this is going on.

“Oh, shit,” Takira says, looking over my shoulder.

I turn my head to see what has her cussing, and draw a sharp breath when Canon walks in. He’s a few feet away, several people between us.

“Hey,” he says to the room, issuing a general greeting. “Great job today, everybody.”

They mumble and nod and stutter, almost like he caught them in the act of something. I don’t know where to look. Don’t know what to do or how to behave. I don’t want to make this worse, but everyone keeps looking from him to me and from me to him like we’re onstage and they’re waiting for our next lines.

I have no script for this.

“Neevah,” he calls, his voice carrying clearly across the room.

I force myself to look at him and not focus on the invisible bullseye covering my whole body.

“You want a ride home?” he asks.

In front of everyone.

What is he doing?

Everyone knows a driver brings me to and picks me up from the set every day. I blink at him stupidly, and the whole room seems to be holding its breath, waiting for my answer.

“Um . . . yeah? Sure?”

“Come on.”

He extends his hand. His hand! Like he means for me to take it. I’m superglued in place, but Takira nudges me forward, and I stumble a little before righting myself and taking the few steps to reach him. He immediately links our fingers and leaves the room, tugging me after him. I hold my tongue for as long as possible, conscious of all the eyes on our departure. As soon as we are out of eyeshot and reach the parking lot, I turn on him.

“What the hell was that?” I ask. “You decided taking me home, holding my hand, and confirming everyone’s suspicions was the best idea?”

“Yeah, because rumors, gossip and speculation disrupt chemistry and, if left unchecked, can compromise performances.” He leans against his car and folds his arms across his chest. “I don’t plan to address it directly, but there’s no reason to hide when it’s been exposed.”

“We could deny it.”

“Denying it, hiding it once something like this comes out, is counterproductive. I’m not wasting energy maintaining a lie when they’re looking for it now. Digging for any sign that it may be true. That’s distracting, and I cannot afford a distracted, gossiping cast and crew.”

With a shrug, he glances at me from beneath an arch of dark brows. “Besides, maybe Camille did us a favor.” He reaches for my hand, twining our fingers. “I don’t particularly like hiding it. I guess I should have checked with you first.”

A smile toys with the corners of my mouth and I step closer. “I guess I’m fine with everyone knowing you’re into me.” I laugh when he rolls his eyes but grins. “So now what?”

“Now I’ve confirmed we’re together, and if they know what’s best for them, they deal with it and keep doing their jobs.”

“It sounds simple, and maybe it will be for you because you won’t have to put up with your colleagues thinking you didn’t get your job on merit.”

“Hey.” He lifts my chin, his gaze traveling down nearly a foot to meet mine. “What happened to if they find out, I’ll prove myself? I’ll show them I can do the job.”

A wry grin tips one side of my mouth. “I thought I was so big and bad. Everyone was staring at me tonight.”

“They were staring because they were wondering. We don’t make them wonder. I’m not saying we flaunt it, but we don’t hide anymore. It’ll be old hat soon and they’ll think of us like any other couple who—”

“Are we?” A feather tickles the lining of my belly. “A couple, I mean?”

He caresses the ink along my thumb. “What’d you think this was?”

We haven’t put much language to what’s been going on between us. For me, I don’t care what we call it. I’m just glad it’s happening.