The Road to Her (15 page)

“Oh, Holly.” Bella sighed. “I wish I could tell you what the best thing to do would be, but I guess only you’ll know that.”

I jumped as there was a sharp rap on our dressing room door.

“That’ll be my call for make-up.” Bella patted my shoulder. “I’m due on set shortly.”

I watched as she walked to the door and opened it, spoke to the person outside, then closed it again.

“We have some scenes together later this afternoon, don’t we?” she asked, fetching her bag from the floor.

I nodded.

“Have a think about stuff quietly for a while,” she said, coming back over to me. “And if you want to talk again later, you know where I’ll be.”

“Thanks, Bella.” I smiled up at her. “You won’t say anything, will you?”

“Holly, my dear,” Bella said, “what’s said in this dressing room stays in this dressing room.” She leant over and kissed the top of my head, ruffling my hair for good measure, then walked back to the door and paused. “Think about talking to Elise as well,” she said. “You don’t have to tell her you like her, but it might be an idea to tell her about Grace.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe not.” I got up and joined Bella at the door, suddenly getting a rush of affection towards her and an overwhelming sense of relief that I’d come out to her.

“Bella?”

She turned round.

“Thanks,” I said.

“For listening?” Bella grinned. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“Yeah, thanks for listening, and thanks for, well”—I glanced away, then back towards her—“for being cool with…y’know. Stuff.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Bella repeated, pulling me to her. I rested my chin on her shoulder, feeling my throat tighten with tears. “You know you can always talk to me, don’t you?” she asked. “About anything.”

“I know.” I swallowed hard. “Somehow I think I’m going to be talking to you a lot in the coming weeks.”

Chapter Thirteen

I filmed all my scenes with Bella without any major hitches that afternoon, much to my relief. Talking to her had really helped make me feel less stressed—but still no happier—than I had in the morning, and I felt ridiculously pleased every time I remembered that I’d come out to her, which, considering Bella was my other mother, was a huge deal for me. I was even more relieved that telling her I was gay had passed over Bella without her batting an eyelid, and I guess a small part of me regretted that I hadn’t spoken to her or someone else about it before.

I still couldn’t bring myself to speak to Elise, though. I knew I should go and apologise to her for not wanting to see her when she’d come to my dressing room that morning, clearly wanting to see me. I’d seen her around and about the studio since then as she’d filmed two scenes with Robbie on the set of Jasmine’s kitchen, but that’s all I’d seen of her since the morning, and a small part of me was relieved about that.

I’d decided I wouldn’t tell her about Grace, despite Bella’s advice. I’d also chosen not to see Grace, either. How could I? I’d checked my e-mails on my phone after I’d finished filming that afternoon and had been frustrated to find another one from her waiting in my inbox. This one just asked me if I’d got her first e-mail—
“because you haven’t answered”
—and again suggested meeting up in London at some point during the few days she’d be in the capital. I deleted it straight away.

I mean, how could I go and meet up with someone who could have been so cruel as to break my heart the way she did, and then think it was okay to contact me again, just because she’d split up from the very same girl she’d left me for? What did Grace think I was going to do? Welcome her back with open arms? Not a chance—as far as I was concerned now, Grace didn’t exist. I wouldn’t reply to her e-mails, either. She could sit and stew for all I cared.

I was heading back out to my car, having finally finished for the day, when I heard footsteps behind me and swung round to see Elise trying to run across the car park in her socked feet, a pair of trainers in her hand. It was a sight that, if I hadn’t still been so miserable, would have been funny.

“Holly! Wait!”

I looked at her, dressed down in gym gear, her trainers still in her hand, and my heart bunched up inside me. She looked stunning—she always did: sweatpants sitting cutely on her hips, T-shirt clinging to all the right places, and her hair, well, it hung perfectly across her eyes, just like it always did.

“I saw you leave and I wanted to catch you,” she said, lifting her trainers up as if to explain.

“I see,” I said, not really knowing what else to say.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Elise put her trainers onto the floor and wiggled her feet into them. “I’ve been thinking about you all afternoon.”

“Thinking about me?” A pulse travelled through me.

“Yuh-huh.” Elise reached out and slowly took my hand in hers, holding it and rubbing her thumb on my palm. No one had held my hand as tenderly as that since Grace. My skin tingled and my head now reeled at Elise’s touch, so I lowered my eyes and stared at the floor, afraid to look at her face.

“I came to see you in your room, too,” she said, gently squeezing my hand.

“I know, Bella said,” I said feebly, still staring at my feet. “Sorry, I wasn’t really up for having company.”

“I was worried about you,” she said.

“Were you?” I lifted my head and our eyes met.

“Mm-hmm,” Elise nodded. “I
can
do worried sometimes, you know.”

It was as though someone was sitting on my chest, squeezing the air out of me, as she carried on holding my hand and looking at me the way she was.

“I’m sorry again that I messed up our scenes this morning,” I finally said.

“Forget about it,” Elise replied. “I just want to know you’re okay now. That’s all I’m bothered about.” She studied me carefully, still holding my hand. Suddenly Bella’s words to me about talking to Elise came flooding into my head. Perhaps Bella was right. This might be the perfect time to talk to Elise after all.

I leant against my car, my breathing coming faster. “You know, once, you told me I was a lot like Jasmine?” I started, my pulse thudding.

“Mm-hmm?”

“I think perhaps I’m more like her than you realise.”

“You’re studying graphic design at Harewood University?” Elise dramatically clutched her chest. “You kept that quiet!”

“No,” I said. “Not graphic design.”

“That’s a serious face,” Elise said, dipping her head to catch my eye. “Was my joke that bad?”

“Jasmine and I have something in common,” I persisted, and I felt my face flushing.

“Which is?” Elise said, making a winding motion with her hand.

“We both share the same tastes,” I said slowly. “Like the same things.”

“Cappuccinos with far too much sugar in them, you mean?” Elise held up her hands. “Sorry, another lame joke.”

“No.” I looked at her. “Not cappuccinos.”

“Then…?” Elise prompted.

“We both like girls,” I said simply. “I thought you needed to know, that’s all.”

“Okay,” she said simply.

“Are you all right with that?” I asked.

“God, yes.” Elise took my hand again. “Totally.”

“Sure?”

“Completely sure,” Elise said. “I’m glad you told me.”

“You are?” I said hopefully.

Elise nodded.

“And you don’t feel differently towards me?” I asked feebly. “For being gay, I mean?”

“You really need me to answer that?” Elise raised her eyebrows. “You know I like you, Holly. I like you a lot, so that’s a ridiculous thing to even be thinking, let alone saying to me.”

She liked me a lot?

“Nothing’s changed,” Elise said gently. “Why would it?”

I looked up and saw that she was still looking at me, intense blue eyes locked onto mine.

Nothing’s changed. Nothing.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked, her voice sounding curious.

I shook my head. “No, not at the moment.” I paused. “But an ex is sniffing around again.” I looked at Elise, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Is that what’s been stressing you out?” Elise asked.

“Mm,” I said. “Amongst other things.”

“It seems a small thing to be so stressed about.” She shrugged. “Exes come and go all the time. It’s no biggie.”

“Maybe in your world, but not in mine,” I said, making her laugh.

“Were you in love?” Elise suddenly asked.

“Yes,” I said, taken aback by her forthright question. “Very much.”

“That’s sweet,” Elise said, smiling at me.

“It was.” I laughed. “Until she dumped me.”

“Ouch.”

“Mm,” I said. “Ouch, indeed.”

“Were you upset?” Elise asked.

“Yes, very,” I replied. “Can we change the subject now, please?” I plunged my hands deep into my jeans pockets, squirming at Elise’s questions.

“Sorry,” Elise said. “I just think it must be nice. Being in love, I mean.” She thought for a while. “And not caring what anyone thinks.” She leant against my car. “I don’t think I’d have the guts to be like you.”

“Well, it wasn’t common knowledge around here,” I said. “I kept it quiet and it worked fine.”

“You weren’t worried that people would find out?” she asked. “And that people would think differently about you?”

“No,” I said honestly. “To be completely clichéd here, if people don’t like it, then tough.”

“I wish I had your optimism,” Elise said.

“How do you mean?” I asked, intrigued by the look on her face as she said it.

“Nothing.” Elise looked at her watch and sighed. “Damn!” She delved into her bag for her car keys. “I have to go,” she said reluctantly. “Stupid gym session.” She gazed at me a while longer, then walked away from me and back towards her car, stopping after a few steps to turn and look at me. “I’m glad you told me,” she said, “and you have to believe me when I tell you I’m totally cool with it.”

“Thank you.” I felt like a weight had been lifted.

“And you promise me you’re okay?” she asked again. “I can’t be worrying about you when I’m supposed to be working out, you know.”

I smiled. “I’m fine, honestly.”

The truth hit me. I wasn’t fine at all, was I?

*

Relieved at having come out to Elise, my mind felt slightly less cluttered, allowing me to ignore Grace’s second e-mail, prompting her to send me a third one, asking me if I’d received it and repeating that she was desperate to see me before she flew on to Ireland on Friday. She left her mobile number, which I instantly forgot, and urged me to ring or text her, just saying over and over about how good it would be for us to hook up again, if only for a quick drink.

My more relaxed state of mind over Elise had a positive effect on my work, too. We practically sailed through our day’s filming the next day, and—thank goodness—wrapped all our scenes up in good time, all without me making a complete hash of any take where Elise had to look at me like I wished she’d look at me in real life. That made such a nice change.

With our scenes for the day now in the can, we both went our separate ways down to our own dressing rooms to change back into our normal clothes. I was just heading back from my room and out to the car park to go home for the afternoon when Elise called down the corridor to me, having changed, too.

“Do you want to grab a coffee before we go home?” she asked. “If I go straight home I’ll just spend the next God knows how many hours learning lines, and I don’t want to do that just yet.”

I stole a look at her, stupidly happy that she wanted to hang out with me. She looked drop-dead gorgeous, too, dressed down in scruffy jeans and a sleeveless top but still lovely all the same. She always had this knack of looking amazing, even when she was dressed casually; it was just another thing to add to the ever-growing list of things that I found attractive about her.

“Sure,” I said, “Will the canteen do you?”

“I was thinking away from here.” Elise wrinkled her nose. “The place down the road does an awesome macchiato.”

“Sounds good to me.”

We left the studio and walked the five minutes down to the coffee shop Elise had suggested. It was a bright, sunny day—hot, even—and the road where the coffee place was situated was full of people wandering up and down, looking in shops and sitting under parasols outside the numerous other cafes and restaurants down the same road.

We found ourselves a table outside the cafe and, on Elise’s recommendation, ordered ourselves a macchiato each. I was aware of a few people staring at us as we sat down, ignoring a stabbing jealousy in my stomach as two guys watched, open-mouthed, as Elise pulled her chair back and sat down, running her hands through her hair. I was even more aware of a few phones coming out to take surreptitious photos of us, but other than that, we were left to enjoy our coffees in peace, which I was grateful for.

“So we have the interview and photo shoot for
Modern Woman
magazine next week,” Elise said, sitting back in her chair and tilting her face slightly to the sun. While I was still watching, she pushed her sunglasses back from her eyes and up onto her head, lifting her fringe from her face. Elise looked effortlessly beautiful, I thought as I looked at her near-perfect profile: the line of her jaw, the smoothness of her skin, her perfect lips, and deep blue eyes framed by thick dark lashes. She turned her head slightly, peering at me through one eye. I cut my glance away, hoping she hadn’t seen me staring at her.

Our coffees arrived, much to my relief, bringing a welcome distraction, and I watched as the server brought out sugars and dusted our coffees with chocolate. When he’d finally gone, I spoke. “And then it’s Millie’s leaving do, as well.”

Millie was one of the other actors in
PR
who had decided to move on from the show and try her hand elsewhere. We were, in fine
PR
tradition, taking her out to one of London’s swankiest hotels for her farewell party. They were always awesome events, with loads of champagne, loads of food, loads of speeches, and, most importantly, loads of silliness thrown in as well.

“At Morgan’s isn’t it?” Elise sipped at her coffee and looked mischievously at me. “I’ll have to get my glad rags on for that one. Really go to town. There’ll be paps there, guaranteed!”