Tacenda ~Owen Joyner~

Chapter 3

I lay on my bed reading through the script over and over again. Filming starts next week, and once it starts since I'm only here for so long, there's no time for not knowing lines.

I swear I've read these same words thousands of times, and I could probably recite the script by heart, and yet here I am reading it again.

A knock sounds at my bedroom and Charlie pokes his head in, "Hey, uh, a bunch of us are going out for drinks in a bit. Do you wanna come? It's a great opportunity to get to know everyone better."

I sigh, "Why are you so obsessed with me 'getting to know everyone better'? I'm getting to know everyone just fine."

Charlie swings my door fully open and leans in the doorway with his arms crossed, "Are you coming or not?"

"Yes, I'm coming," I say in a mocking tone, "Who's all going?"

Charlie holds up his hand to count on his fingers, "Us, Jeremy and Carolynn, Owen, and Savannah. We told Madi we could try to sneak her in but her dad said 'over my dead body' so I doubt she'll be there."

"Alright," I nod, "Just let me get changed and I'll be good to go."

"Gotcha." Charlie leaves my room, closing the door behind him.

It's just drinks so obviously I'm not going to dress up or anything, but I still wanna look cute because you know, we'll be in public, where there are people.

I put on ripped jeans- no, no, no. I attempt to put on ripped jeans but my foot keeps getting stuck in one of the larger rips. I eventually get them on and grab a black belt to go with them. I slip on a grey mixed with a black crop top and run a brush through my hair.

Now for the big debate; do I bring a purse or do I see how much I can fit into my bra?

I already know the answer. I hate purses.

I shove my debit card, ID, and some chapstick into my bra and slip my phone into my back pocket.

I give myself a once over in the mirror and as I'm about to turn my doorknob Charlie beats on my door, "Cal! Let's go!"

I open the door and stare at him. I brush past him and once I'm down the hall, I look over my shoulder, "Come on, Charlie. Let's go."

"Come on, Charlie." He mocks in a quiet high pitched voice as he follows out the door.

Owen is waiting out front of the apartment building for us. He's wearing his "nice jeans" and plain white t-shirt with a black unzipped hoodie over top.

"My two favourite Canadian's," Owen greets us, "lookin' good."

"Thank you, my good sir," Charlie replies while I just stand there and smile awkwardly. I never know how to take compliments. Someone will say "oh I like your shirt" and I'll be like "happy Hannukah".

Our Uber pulls up in front of the building and we all get in the back. Me sitting in the middle seat of course, because when you're the smallest it's like a requirement.

"So what are we doing tonight?" Charlies asks, "Are we getting absolutely hammered or just tipsy?"

"Whatever you want as long you're paying for your own drinks." Owen laughs.

"Ah yes, the only downfall of drinking; you become broke," I say.

"There's also the downfalls of hangovers, the possibility of choking on your own vomit or becoming an alcoholic, and worst-case scenario, alcohol poisoning and death." Charlie casually lists.

Owen and I both stare at him. He finally glances at us and then does a double-take when he sees our blank faces, "What?"

"Way to set the mood, man." Owen says.