FanGirl (20 page)

“I guess not.” I give him a smile. “I guess I’ll go wash this off before it sticks.”

“Good idea,” he says. “Thanks for doing that. The interviews should really help generate interest.”

“Whatever you need, Gabe. I’m willing to take one for the team.”

g

Chapter 13

“
S
tupid freaking rain.” It’s pouring. A violent thunderstorm – Atlanta is notorious for them in the summer – has completely halted production. To make matters worse, we are in the middle of filming a scene of Wyatt and Alexandra in the truck. The storm came up quickly and the sky turned so dark, Andrew and I had no choice but to wait it out in the cab.

“That’s some pretty intense lighting,” Andrew says from the driver’s seat. He flinches every time a bolt streaks across the sky.

“I want to finish this scene.” The rain comes down in sheets, making it impossible to see outside the windows. I fidget with the knobs on the truck. They don’t do anything — this thing is ancient, but I’m bored and a little agitated.

Andrew rests his head back on the window and sighs. “I hoped we would get out of here early today.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” The rain starts to come down harder, beating down on the truck. “Maybe the paps will leave though. And that group of fans? I hate filming in front of them.”

“Maybe. You know, I was thinking, do you want to practice for a minute? We could run our lines a little — the stuff between us. Wyatt and Alexandra kiss for the first time leading up to this scene, and well, you and I should be kissing by now in real life, so it would be awkward, but not the same kind of awkward. There should definitely be some kind of comfort level between us, I think.”

Andrew’s rambling. “You’re acting weird.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” Why? It can’t be the scene. He goes into each one calm and focused. This is the most nervous I’ve seen him. “Well, Iris has been asking anyway. So far, I told her you were dreamy and left it at that.”

“You did not.”

“I had to make something up, right? You told me there would be kissing, but so far, nada.” I’m joking. Kind of.

He makes a face at my scrutiny. “Let’s just practice, okay?”

“Okay.” I pick up my script, and he pulls his from his back pocket. “What page?”

“One thirty-five.” We flip to the page.

Wyatt:
So, I’m gonna get the silent treatment for the rest of the ride?

Alexandra:
Silent treatment?

Wyatt:
Come on. You’ve barely spoken 10 words to me since we left that house. Admit it. You’re mad. And jealous.

Alexandra:
I am not jealous.

Wyatt:
I told you, she kissed me.

Alexandra:
And I told you it’s none of my business.

The two ride in silence for a moment.

Wyatt:
She’s not the only one making her intentions known.

Alexandra:
What does that even mean?

Wyatt:
It means Cole takes any chance he can get to be near you. I had to force him to ride with Chloe today.

Alexandra:
Whatever. Cole is harmless.

Wyatt:
He’s about as harmless as his sister.

Alexandra:
[Laughs] I suppose in the zombie apocalypse, you don’t get to choose your friends.

Wyatt stops the car at a wide country intersection. The only sign of life is Cole up ahead, leading the way in another truck.

Alexandra:
Why are you stopping?

Wyatt:
I didn’t want it to be her.

He leans in and kisses Alexandra, soft at first but then deepens it. He pulls away to reveal Alexandra’s stunned face. He puts his hands back on the wheel and begins to drive.

Alexandra:
I didn’t want it to be her either.

Andrew flips the pages in his script and I’m, well, unsure of what to do.

“That wasn’t bad for your first on-screen kiss,” he says. The rain has slowed, but not enough for everyone to come out of their hiding spots yet.

“I kissed Mark Holloway in the ELSAD production of Grease.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Why not?” I ask. He rolls his eyes at me.

“Want to try again?”

“Sure,” I nod, because I do and I’m curious, so we launch into the scene again.

We get to the part where he’s going to kiss me and, let it be known, acting with Andrew is interesting. He’s intense and gets into his part. One minute he’s gripping the wheel and the next his eyes lock into mine. He licks his top lip and he’s so, so pretty. He cups my face and kisses me. It’s a soft kiss, a little weird, because it’s angled for the cameras we know will be there. Even though it’s fake, I have a funny feeling in my stomach. But it’s not the kind of feeling I had when Reid and I kissed for the first time. Or even the feeling I had when Gabe and I shared the couch watching goblins massacre unicorns. I feel strange and weird and oddly not aroused.

Huh.

We part and I lean back in my seat. Andrew Xavier kissed me, twice. Really, really good kisses. Firm and not sloppy and, yet, they do nothing for me.

I sneak a glance at Andrew. He’s busy reading his script again and I can’t be sure, but I’m thinking the kiss was a dud for him also. This is fine, right even, since he has a girlfriend, but don’t guys get turned on easily? Andrew frowns and pulls out a pencil, making some kind of note. He looks unimpressed. In fact, he looks the same now as he did when we filmed the scene where we hacked a group of zombies to pieces and bits of chicken and pork flew all over the place.

I’m struck by a horrifying thought: am I that bad of a kisser? Did Reid leave me for Taylor Lyn because of my terrible kissing skills?

“Cool,” he says and nods at the sky. “Looks like the rain’s slowing.”

I look outside and see the sun emerging from behind fast-moving clouds. NAB appears under an umbrella and bangs on the window. “Arthur wants you back in makeup.”

“Okay,” I say and wonder what it would be like to kiss him. Gross. I get out of the car and spot someone else, someone taller and lankier, in a black baseball cap with frayed edges along the bill. My stomach flutters and that’s when I start to realize the difference between feeling strange and feeling something altogether more.

g

I learn two things
that day. If you want to kiss someone, even if it’s a fake-fake romance kiss, but it doesn’t make your heart pound or your palms get sweaty, then you need to let that dream go. It’s never gonna happen. What I also learn is if you kiss Andrew Xavier, even in the middle of a massive Georgia thunderstorm tucked inside an ancient Chevy truck, someone will see it. And someone will take a photo of it. And someone will send that photo to some jerk who will post it on his website for everyone to see with mocking captions and derogatory statements.

ZWankHard

It’s so hard being Alexandra and Wyatt, you know? All those photogs, always following them around and stuff, must be devastatingly intrusive.

Good thing our favorite zombie butt-kicking duo has the basic human intelligence to keep private moments out of the public eye. Take these photos of them kissing in a downpour snapped last week. This is clearly a super steamy, intense, emotional scene between the two leads of the uber-anticipated Zocopalypse miniseries, and not a kiss between Ruby and Andrew themselves.

Right?

“A massive thunderstorm rolled in while filming a particular scene in the front seat of a truck. The crew scattered, but Ruby and Andrew held tight in the cab, waiting the storm out. Whatever happened in there was on private time
—
not work.”

Oh.

To be fair, getting stuck in a tight spot with Andrew? We’d go for it, too, not gonna lie.

We have so many pressing questions, though. Are they together? Are they just friends? Is it a fabrication? Could it even last once filming ends?

And the most pressing question of all: WHO FREAKING CARES?!

I mean, it’s not like you people are here to make a movie or anything. No, no. Go on, we understand your need for attention and drama queenery. We’ll be over here, cringing at the pictures of overpaid actors awkwardly swapping spit instead of watching the movie you’re all being paid to make.

g

“
I think the blue
and green striped bedding will look great in your dorm room.”

“Me too,” I say. My mother and I have spent the morning Bed, Bath and Beyonding ourselves in an attempt to gather all the supplies on the list I received from the university. School starts in a month and, for once, I’m looking forward to going. The pressure of the movie and ZWankHard and this showmance with Andrew has started to take its toll. Not even here, in the Waffle Shop, can I escape the drama of my fabricated life. I have a mouthful of waffle when a teenage girl starts circling the table.

“Do you know that girl?” my mom asks. Her knife and fork hover over her half-eaten waffle.

“No.”

“She looks like she knows you.”

I shake my head. “Nah, she probably knows me from the movie or whatever.” I keep my eyes on my plate. I do not want this girl to come over here.

“She has a picture! Does she want your autograph?”

“No, look, Mom…”

“Hi, would you like Ruby to sign that for you?”

I wipe the bacon and syrup off my face and finally look at the girl standing beside the table. Crazed is a nice way to describe her expression. “Ohmygod! It is you! Ruby Miller!”

“That’s me. Mom, do you have a pen?” I’m hoping to make this end fast.

“Oh, you’re her mom? I hoped maybe Andrew would be with you.” She looks genuinely disappointed.

“Oh yeah, well, no, he’s not here.” I take the pen from my mom.

“I just bought this! It’s, like, fate or something I saw you here.” Destiny in the Waffle Shop. The girl hands me a magazine. The magazine is
Celeb Weekly
and there I am. On the cover. Kissing Andrew.

“You guys are so cute! What’s it like dating him?”

I scribble my name and spare a glance at my mom. She’s got her finger on the magazine, turning it toward her. “Mom, let her have it back.”

“Hmm,” she says. I pull the tabloid away from her and smile at the girl. “Thanks for being a fan and everything. I’m just going to finish eating.”

“Can I get your picture? I have my phone.” My mother traitorously offers to take the photo while the girl and I pose. Before I can escape, another girl comes over and then the manager of the Waffle Shop sees that I could maybe, possibly, be someone famous and comes over to get his photo taken, too. By the time I get back to my food, the eggs are cold, the bacon is rock hard and I want to leave. Then my phone vibrates.

Are you at the Waffle Shop?

???

On Baker? With AX?

??? No. He’s not here… Oh crap.

Oh crap is right - it’s on Twitter. Go now! They’re coming!

“We need to leave,” I tell my mom.

“Why? Those girls left? Let’s finish breakfast.”

“We can’t,” I say in a low voice. “We need to leave now. Before anyone else comes.” I stand and get my bag, but she hasn’t moved. “I’m serious.”

She gets up, slow as a snail, but she does it. I’m close to losing it while she pays at the counter, chatting with the waitress. Finally, I get her into the car and barely lock the doors when I see them. Car after car after car of teenage girls, streaming into the lot, hoping for a glance. Not of me. Of him. Because if I’m here, then he could be too.

“All right, all right,” she says, fastening her seatbelt. “You don’t have to be rude.”

“Those girls think Andrew is with me. They put it on Twitter and we need to go home — fast, before they see me.”

“But he’s not here.” She normally isn’t this slow. I promise. At least she finally starts the car and leaves the parking lot.

“Doesn’t matter. He could be here. That’s all they want.”

“So you guys are dating?”

“That picture? Of the kiss? That was work.” See, not a lie.

“You haven’t answered my question.” Why can’t I have the kind of mother who accepts her daughter’s lies? Who only wants to hear the good stuff. Not the bad things.

“I don’t know, Mom. It’s complicated and stuff.”

She turns into our neighborhood. “And the other thing, is that true? Are you planning on moving to California?”

“What? No, Mom.”

“Don’t lie to me, not about this. Not about school.” Her voice cracks. “You promised.”