in which you, an aspiring filmmaker,
find the perfect actor for your breakout short film.
casting is difficult for the main love interest,
but once a certain blue-eyed boy comes into your life, you know he's the one...
maybe in more ways than yo...
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CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
under watch
one of the best things said in the cast group chat was connor offering his house for the party scene in hats. he said it was available while his parents were away for two nights, so our filming window was somewhat short.
that friday afternoon, maeve and i headed over to the address he sent. we approached the double-floored home, immediately in awe of how disgustingly suburban, stomach-churningly contemporary, and perfect for our film it was. we stood there, our winter coat covered arms interlocked, for a good minute before finally walking up the porch steps.
"hopefully the interior's as good as the exterior," i said as maeve rang the doorbell. when connor opened the door a second later, my hopes were fulfilled. over his shoulder, i could see a massive staircase with a fancy banister that spanned over the foyer, a large room with hardwood floors, postmodern artwork, and square footage that could easily fit all the extras and then some.
"hey guys!" said connor. it appeared as though he'd gotten his bowl cut freshly trimmed before seeing us.
"hey, thank you so much for letting us film here," gushed maeve. "we really appreciate it, especially because peter is so anti-partying and won't even be in the scene. unless you want to be an extra -- we could put a fake mustache on you or something. maybe even give you a haircut--"
i cut maeve off before she could insult the poor bowl-- sorry, boy. "yeah, we really do appreciate it," i said, forcing out a laugh.
"of course," he said, letting us inside. "i'll probably be behind the camera, though, just making sure nothing gets broken."
for the next twenty minutes or so, we discussed what was expected to happen, how we can avoid any mean girls party situations, and who would be on pizza ordering duty since filming would be around dinner time. it was decided that jordyn would do the undesirable task of asking everyone there what they would want and driving out to get it. sure, he would have to take my phone to place the order, but i was proud to be volunteering my cousin for yet another role without him knowing.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
walker and i had been hanging out after school behind the big tree for the whole week. since we only had one or two classes together, both in the morning, we liked to see each other again along with a little more privacy. at this point, we were also seeing each other. we just hadn't discussed putting a label on it yet. we took it slower than people's perception of us might have suggested.
mondays were mondays. but our daily dates were what got me through my classes, even more so once he kissed me goodbye on friday. i smiled every time i thought about it, probably looking maniacal to my classmates and teachers, which was fine by me.
on tuesday, i walked into class later than usual, late enough that i was one of the last few people to arrive. i scanned the room for walker, and our eyes met at madeline's table. it was normal that he wasn't sitting at our table, but no one was even sitting. everyone was on their feet and most were looking at mrs fennel. as i made my way to the back of the classroom, i listened in on her announcement.
"i shouldn't have waited this long to make this rule," she said behind her desk, "but it seems necessary now. everyone is to put their phones in this basket" -- she grabbed a new, large, square woven basket from her desk and held it up to the class, which collectively bleated in annoyance -- "only because i need to prevent more disgusting acts like students recording their peers." she paused, eyes going from kid to kid, to get her point across that she sees all. then she motioned for everyone to come up to her desk.
walker got on the queue next to me, phone in hand. "i think i know who's responsible for this," he whispered while facing forward as if it was top secret information and he was trying to evade suspicion.
"oh yeah? did you see someone trying to get answers to classwork or something," i muttered, playing along.
"no. i thought i was seeing things yesterday, but this just confirmed i wasn't," he said, glancing around to check if the coast was clear. "i'm pretty sure i saw tasha trying to record us before class started."
"record us? why would she do that," i asked, dumbfounded. tasha was in the very front of this mush of a line, so i could only see the back of her head. i just had to hope her face had a guilt-ridden expression, and that my gut was telling me the wrong thing. because right then i couldn't help but wonder if she was going to post a video online, maybe to be the mouth of gossip, to be the "bearer of bad news" to a wider audience.
over the next day or so, i anxiously awaited a bombardment of follow requests, frantic texts, or just the algorithm sending the video my way. but the verdict came up empty. i had wasted time i could have spent writing worrying over something that never happened. i just had to hope i wasn't giving tasha or madeline or whoever suggested recording us what they wanted.
the days until filming, until walker had the opportunity to leave were ticking down fast, though, so i wasn't going to worry too much. right now, i had too much to enjoy.
