Opposites attract, they say. Although no one knows how when they collide, they might just end up combusting in a thousand flames.
[full summary inside]
Copyright 2021 | bookishbronte
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A trail of fairy lights on my shoulders, I set them on the stack of wooden benches and watch the crew move in and out of spaces at an unreal speed. The Espanol really is as grand as they say.
"Madrid seems fun," a voice I've come to recognise out of crowds now grips my attention as I turn to him. Shades on, beard untrimmed, dressed in a black tee and cargos, it seems like he walked off of his bed and straight into a car to travel over here. "What are you doing, again?"
"Volunteering at a film festival," I beam, in an utter contrast to the wrinkles between his eyebrows, lips stretched into a scowl. I called him up this morning after Callum bailed due to some work thing, and for the first couple rings all I could get were lazed out sounds until a proper yes came on the fourth try. Before he can whine anymore, I set a bunch of wooden rods in his hands, meant for building a platform where the showcase would happen, "and so are you."
A cry of protest rumbles out of his throat, but I know he's still walking behind me, halting a few steps behind the lake, the space reserved with ropes to help gauge the measurements of the stage. "Alright, why are we doing this?" Chase asks, setting one of the blocks in place and picking up a hammer from the tool box held in my hands.
"It's a part of my filmmaking workshop, so there's not much choice," I shrug, straight faced until he quits at the hammering, pulls off his aviators and looks at me, unblinking. "What?"
"You yourself asked for this, didn't you?"
"I–I," I long for a reply because it's all true, and because I'm still unable to grasp how it takes such little effort for him to see right through me like I were made of glass.
"Okay, I did, but the festival's today evening and they barely had any help. I mean it was heart breaking," hands pushed to chest, I'm not sure how convincing I am at the moment, but my hopes are dimming as I observe the block of wood thumping, little shreds of grass writhing out as he plunges it into the ground. "If you want to leave, it's fine. I'll just ask that French guy who offered to help me earlier, said l looked like Bianca Giovanni."
Playing disinterested, he thinks he's fooling me, but I see him slyly looking about, among the crew on the left. "Of course he did, those guys are pathetically charming and walking all weird, as if on a cloud." He puts the hammer back in, picking one of the ropes by the lake. Struggling with the length, he nearly ties himself up a hostage until I pull at one of the ends to help him out.
"It's called being a romantic, but I believe that's a foreign concept to you?" Brows raised, I stare for an answer and count beats until his face blanches white. "Thought so."
"Hey, who says I'm not a romantic, I've planned several dates that are bigger than anything you've seen in a movie. You'll see," his tone, coquettish, is a subtle reminder of our plans next week, the whole thing still abuzz in my mind and the flurry of emotions still present. "In fact, I bet I have easily seen more romantic movies than you've even heard of."
