On Set

14

"Your timing is impeccable." I mumbled kissing Chris again.

He chuckled and kissed me again. "I know, I know."

There were about a thousand questions running through my head. Part of me wondered if I was ready to try this.

"I just couldn't stop myself. Lucy I really like you, and I have for a long time."

"Chris–I–you have to know how bad of timing this is." There were things that I felt I needed to tell Chris before we dove in. I just didn't know how to tell him.

"I know and I'm sorry. Maybe after shooting we'll figure something out."

"Of course. And there are always weekends." I mentioned making him smile. He slowly pressed his lips to mine. Kissing him was everything I imagined. His phone rang interrupting us.

"Fuck" he cursed, ignoring it and continued to kiss me.

"Chris" I gave him a look and he finally picked up the phone.

"Mackie I swear to god. Yes, I'm coming. Yeah, I'm late, usually happens. No, I'm not making ou— How?!" Chris hung up the phone laughing

"Apparently this is his trailer." Chris commented hitting the trailer behind us. I laughed, but I wanted to die of embarrassment.

"Oh my gosh." I groaned blushing making Chris laugh again.

"I've got to go. I'll see you later. Don't worry Luce, we'll work it out." He promised giving me a quick kiss.

"God I love doing that." He smiled kissing me again.

"Go" I told him pushing him on his way.

I felt dizzy leaving set. I was a little overwhelmed, too many emotions flooded my consciousness. I felt giddiness, embarrassment, confusion, excitement, sadness, happiness, anxiety. I felt everything. My stomach flipped and turned into a bottomless pit of an anxious feeling. I sat in my car taking a deep breath before putting it into drive.

What were we doing to ourselves? We aren't going to see each other for months, with no promises of any visits. Why did we let our emotions run? Why did we wait so long to let them? Am I really going to let him in? Am I?

I tried to sleep that night, I really did. I tossed and turned for an hour or so. But I was dying, my own thoughts were the murders. Why did I let this happen? Why did I want this so bad? Why did I want him so bad? Why couldn't I sleep? Why couldn't I relax?

Scientists say our fight-or-flight responses are our primitive survival skills, my flight response was itching. It's always itched, I just scratch it way too little. I grabbed my keys, and a sweatshirt and left my hotel room. I drove around town. I drove in circles around the block. I rolled down the windows of the car, and blasted some Florence and The Machine. I sang on the top of my lungs, letting go. Letting go, of my thoughts and worries. I ventured out of town and stopped to get gas, and some calorie filled drink. I kept driving, and every minute I got further.

I don't know where I pulled over. It was a sandy area, not quite in the middle of nowhere, but it definitely wasn't a somewhere. Someone owned the property I parked my car on. A barbed wire fence told me that. I went over the fence and brought my drink with me. I sucked on the straw with the drink and hoped the stars were out. They really weren't, I blamed light pollution and clouds. I sat there and stared at the sky and remembered when I could see the stars.

"Luce, you see that star right there, here look through the telescope." He demanded and I did. We stood on the roof of the apartment building staring at the stars we could see. It was late at night, on a clear chilly night. My nose and ears hurt from being out to long, but he wanted me to stay out here.