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“No.” He frowned as he sat on the sofa, dropping his script in his lap and stretching an arm over the back of my sofa like he belonged there. “I spit it out before I got here, knowing your aversion to gum. Why’d you ask?”
Like I was about to admit that I was sniffing him. His observant eyes crinkled with amusement, that cocky persona in full swing.
“Let me go grab my script. Do you want a water or something?”
“Water is good.”
I disappeared into the kitchen to grab some waters and catch my breath.
What the hell? Why was my heart pounding like I’d just run a mile?
Telling myself to calm the hell down, I grabbed two waters and my script from my bedroom and returned, expecting him to still be sprawled on my sofa like he owned the place. But he wasn’t. He was standing at my wooden mantle, looking at my family photos. He held my favorite, observing closely.
It was a picture of me, Mom, and Emma three Halloweens ago at a friend’s party. We were dressed as the Sanderson witch sisters from Hocus Pocus. I’d had to tease my hair for an hour, but I’d done an awesome job getting that Winifred-witch height. Finn was taking the picture, and he’d caught us mid-laugh.
I noticed that Bennett was smiling as he stared at the photo, sending a bloom of warmth in my chest. Uncomfortable, I cleared my throat.
“Ready?”
He set the photo down. “That your mom and sister?”
“Yeah.”
“You look good as the witch in charge.” He settled next to me, smirk tilting his mouth in a way that made him even more handsome.
I wasn’t sure if he was actually complimenting me or sneakily insulting me by calling me a witch. Maybe both, and I didn’t know what to do with that.
He opened his water bottle and took a few gulps, dragging my gaze to the sexy cords of his throat.Whydid this arrogant ass have to be so fine?
Turning away, I took a sip of my own before sitting sideways with my script in hand.
“Did you drink that wine yet?” he asked, pulling his phone from his pocket and setting it on the sofa between us.
“Haven’t had the chocolate or bloody meat to pair with it as the wine-giver recommended,” I answered, flipping to Act One.
“I can remedy that.”
“Don’t sweat it, Broussard. I live pretty close to this bougie supermarket some local dude just opened up. I can get what I need there.”
A rough chuckle pulled my gaze to him.
“I happen to know they have the best chocolate desserts and red meat a girl could possibly want.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Wiping my smile off, I said, “Let’s start in Act One when Paul first gets home. Are we just going to do a read-through, or do you want to stop and discuss character motivation and inflection and stuff?”
“Let’s do a straight read-through first, if you don’t mind.” He opened a recording app on his phone and started recording.
“Why are you doing that?”
“It helps me memorize when I listen to the lines while driving around or working out.”
“Hmph. I never tried that before.”
“Really? Most BPAL friends I know use this memorization method. You can plug in your earbuds while doing other stuff and memorize at the same time.”
“This is my first big role.”
“Oh, yeah. Right. Well, take it from an expert. You’ll want to try this.”
