The first week after the storm is a flurry of catching up and trying to get back on schedule. You stay away from Colin, Gracie, and Hannah, which isn't the easiest thing to do. It's almost as difficult as trying to stay away from Henry.
"Need you to take the new costumes to Gracie."
Your head snaps up. "What?"
"Take these—" Cindy tells you, handing a bunch of costumes. "to Gracie. The head costumer will be along for some last minute fittings."
"Why not in the costume shop?"
"What?"
You inwardly cringe. You remember you are not supposed to question, but nod and do. You bow your head and briskly walk to her trailer. With a deep breath, you knock at the door.
"Come in."
You walk in, purposely not keeping eye contact with her, but begin hanging her costumes. "Millie will be along to help you with these, and do some final fittings and selections—"
"Oh!" Gracie exclaimed. "It's you."
"Millie will be along—"
"Henry's new plaything."
Your actions slow. She is like the cheerleader who lost the quarterback to the smart girl, you tell yourself-claws and fangs bared. You turn to leave; you want no part of this. "She'll be along—" You gasp as she catches your shoulder and spins you around.
"Do you really think he would want someone like you?"
You decide to stay silent. She is really asking herself how he would want you over her, you think. Looking at her now, you see a few reasons show in neon.
"You're just...something different, new, novel." Her nose wrinkles on the last word like something smells.
You take a deep breath, trying not to listen to her words. Even though you know she is purposely trying to hurt you, she is voicing your fears.
"You think you can keep him?" Gracie spits. "No one keeps him."
You finally raise your eyes to hers. "Then I guess all you have to do is wait!" You snatch away from her and walk out of the trailer, furiously wiping your tears as they begin to fall. You stop walking. You take deep breaths. You tell yourself that you could be at the start of something, that time will tell and you are hoping that taking this risk is worth it. Maybe he is, too, but what if you are what she says? What if you are just different, new, novel, the newest toy in his shop of different experiences on a shelf of memories? He loves them all, but it just doesn't work out?
"Hey—"
You bump into Henry. You feel the tears refresh in your eyes. Damn.
"Hey—" He is in his Geralt costume, but breaks character, holding your forearms. "What's—what's—"
"I'm okay."
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