Silbie Luna just wanted to pass her classes and become the first undergrad co-captain for her derby team. She never thought shooting a promo for the athletic department would lead to a coveted role in a highly anticipated movie series. But not only...
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The sound of Owen's voice scraped across Silbie's skin like a dull knife, setting her nerves on edge. He didn't sound like himself. Anger tinged his tone, but she couldn't let that discourage her. She was determined to stick to her plan.
"If you please let me stay for a few minutes, I'll leave."
He paused a second, surprised. Probably surprised that his intruder was a female.
"Did... did Dante send you?"
The question rolled around in Silbie's brain like a squeaky wheel. Why would he think Dante sent her? Then the answer came. He thought she was a hooker. Hilarious—or not. "I don't understand. This... Dante — he sends prostituée to your room?"
"No. But he thinks I need—never mind." He rose from his chair but didn't move. "Your accent. French?"
Silbie sighed in relief. "Oui. I only must stay until the beach is clear."
"Coast."
"Excusez-moi?"
"I think you mean until the coast is clear. Is someone after you?"
"After... me?" She parroted.
Owen stepped closer. Through the open curtains, enough light beamed in to bring his face out of the shadows. From the growth of his beard, he'd not shaved in days. He looked older. Weary.
"Chasing—uh—following you."
She shook her head, then realized he probably couldn't see the motion from where she stood in the shadows. "No. I came to see someone, but it was a mistake. He is with another."
He huffed a breath as if disgusted. "I get that."
Silbie raised her eyebrows. "You, too, have lost love?"
He ignored the question. "How did you get in here?"
"The door opened when I leaned against it. The lights in the hall went out and startled me. I'm sorry. I will leave." She placed her hand on the handle. Hesitated for him to say something. When he didn't, she turned it.
"Wait. Don't go. I mean... you can stay longer if you need to."
Her pulse raced. She faced him again. "I don't want to disturb."
"You're not," He sighed, as if exasperated. "I mean, it's okay."
She moved closer and sized him up. He was barefoot, dressed in jeans and a shirt that wasn't buttoned. She wanted to throw herself into his arms. Press her face against his skin. Breathe him in. Tell him how much she missed him. Maybe if she did, he'd embrace her and tell her he felt the same. But—maybe he wouldn't. She couldn't take the chance. Not now. Not when she was this close.
This was the time to use her improv skills from the class she'd taken. Some of the most iconic movie lines came from improvisation. This was the perfect opportunity to test her talent.
