Take Two (16 page)

She felt flustered, and it bothered her. She smoothed out the layers of her blue dress and gathered her composure. “I have
to change. And we have another show in a few hours.”

“I’ll get you a coffee. We can talk outside when you’re ready.”

Andi’s heart picked up speed. He wasn’t exactly asking, and that bugged her too. But a thrill of attraction ran through her
veins at breakneck speed. An attraction like she’d never felt before. She heard herself telling him that she’d take a grande
soy latte and that she’d be out in fifteen minutes.

His grin was slow and lazy, and his eyes danced. “I’ll be waiting.”

Back in the dressing room, the director spent ten minutes talking to the cast about the towns people scenes. “You’re getting
a little out of control.” He frowned. “Too much milling about and animated conversations. It’s distracting us from the main
characters.”

When the director was finished, Bailey came up to her, brows raised. “I saw you.”

“What?” Andi didn’t want to answer for what she was about to do. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and Taz was different, interesting.

“You know what.” Her tone wasn’t condemning or unkind, but she sounded worried. “The film student. I don’t like the way he
looks at you.”

“He’s fine.” Andi busied herself with her costume, unbuttoning the back and slipping out of the dress. What did Bailey know
about meeting guys at school? She had Tim. And now that Cody was losing interest … “I like him.” Andi tossed her hair. “We
have a lot in common. Besides, we need to talk about the movie.”

Instant disappointment colored Bailey’s expression. “Andi, no. You’re not taking the role.”

“I might.” She worked to sound confident and controlled. Like she had thought through this.

Bailey’s face mirrored her skepticism.

“I know — the partial nudity.” Andi lifted her hands and let them fall back to her sides. “The way I see it, sacrifices need
to be made for the sake of art.” She thought about her parents’ trip delay. “That’s true with everyone in filmmaking.”

“Don’t compromise.” Bailey released an exasperated sigh. “Please, Andi. Be smart. You don’t even know this guy.”

“I don’t need to. It’s not like I’m interested in him,” she lied. “He wants me to star in his film. He’s intriguing. It’s
that simple.”

Bailey hesitated, like she wanted to say more. “Tim’s waiting for me. We’re getting lunch and sitting on the wall out back.
You should join us.”

“Maybe later.” Andi hung up her dress, removed her character dance shoes, and slipped into her jeans and turtleneck sweater.
“Taz is getting me a coffee.”

Another sigh. “Be careful.”

“Thanks.” Andi looked up long enough to give Bailey a hurried smile. “I will.”

With Bailey gone, Andi slowed her frenzied pace. Just once she wished her roommate could be a little adventurous. They were
in college, after all. What other time of their lives would an offer like this come along, the chance to star in a student
film? This was what college was about.

She regained the calm she’d lost in the last five minutes. She wasn’t going to sit in her dorm fearing the world or the God
who’d made it. Life was nothing but an accumulation of experiences, and this would be one she remembered always.

She fixed her hair and checked her makeup. It was a little heavy, but she didn’t want to reapply it before the next show.
She put her jacket on, snatched her purse from the floor, and made sure she had her phone. Then, with a final look at herself,
she walked back into the lobby. She wasn’t sure Taz was serious, or — if he was — that he’d be back yet. But he was there,
leaning against the door frame of the main entrance, a coffee cup in each hand. He locked eyes with her from the moment he
saw her, and didn’t break the connection once as she walked up.

“You’re even better this weekend than last.” He handed her a hot white cup. “One soy latte.”

“Thank you.” Her heart was doing it again, pounding like crazy, and she wished she’d asked for something without caffeine.
This was crazy, this breathless way he made her feel. She’d seen him in her science class every day since school started.
Why the attraction now? She stared at her coffee and tried not to look flustered. “Where should we go?”

“There’s a bench out there a little ways. It’s more private than staying here.” He held open the door and walked beside her
as they headed down the path. The cold air hit them like a freezing wall and took her breath away. At least she hoped it was
the cold air.

Taz wore a nice jacket, something from Abercrombie, and mixed with the ice cold air she could smell his cologne. His pace
was slow and easy, like his smile. “Do you always have the biggest crowd after a show?”

“No.” She giggled and felt the compliment to her core. Especially today, with Cody canceling on her and her parents delayed
in Denver. “Tim Reed barely has enough time to sign all the programs that come his way. He’s been brilliant as Scrooge.”

“Because his greatest regret was losing you.” He looked down, and their eyes met again. “That would make any guy crazy.”

Andi didn’t know what to say, so she smiled at him and then faced straight ahead again. Snow was gathered a foot high on either
side of the path, but the cement was cleared. They reached the bench and she sat down first. He took the opposite side, leaving
ample space between them. Andi felt herself relax. Bailey didn’t have to worry. The guy wasn’t making a move on her. He was
making a movie. There was a difference.

They sat in silence for nearly a minute, sipping their coffee and watching their breath make wispy shapes in the air between
them. Finally he lowered his drink and narrowed his eyes, looking into hers with a kindness and depth she hadn’t noticed before.
“I’ve wanted to make movies as far back as I can remember.”

He didn’t seem to be looking for a response, so she stayed with her drink, watching him, waiting.

“Film is a special medium, powerful, encompassing.” He shifted his look to the barren trees not far from where they sat. “Only
through film can a person vicariously experience the thrill of espionage or the pain of prison bars, the satisfaction of revenge
or the power of taking another life.” He paused and his eyes found hers again. “Film can make a person know what love should
be, what sexual love feels like. The experience can be that real.” He drew a slow breath. “It’s a medium bigger than ourselves.”

Andi wanted to feel embarrassed by his blunt description, but she was drawn by it instead. He was right in many ways. Wasn’t
that why people went to the movies? So they could live the lives of the actors on screen, if only for a few hours from the
dark privacy of their theater seats? She lowered her coffee to her lap. “Acting’s that way too. Crawling into someone else’s
skin and bringing something to life you otherwise wouldn’t have known.”

He seemed pleasantly surprised by her description. “Hmmm. A girl who’s as deep as she is beautiful.” He tipped his head in
her direction, and his eyes flirted mercilessly with her. “You’re a rare find, Andi Ellison. How come some guy hasn’t snatched
you up and made you his?”

“I don’t know.” Her cheeks were hot again. “I’ve been out of the country most of my life.”

“Tell me.” He was in no hurry. It was a part of his charm.

For the first time she wished her story was more exotic, that she’d been the daughter of a great and powerful archaeologist
and together her family had spent more than a decade on the site of a world-famous dig in Africa somewhere. But she had to
be honest. No matter what his belief system, she was what she was. “My parents were missionaries.” She gave him a weak smile.
“I grew up in Indonesia.”

“Christian missionaries?” He seemed interested, if maybe slightly amused. “I admire missionaries.”

“You do?”

“Yes. They are committed to their dreams and beliefs. To live a life of ser vice toward another people is admirable. Like
anything else that resonates in the soul.”

“Resonates in the soul?”
Yes, that was it. The new ideas and thoughts she’d been feeling were ones that resonated in her soul. Andi felt her head
begin to spin. This was the sort of conversation she’d longed to have with Bailey or Cody — anyone who would talk to her.
But whenever the conversation veered out of the box of biblical truth, her friends took a hard stance. Things were either
right or wrong. Andi had a feeling that wasn’t the case for Taz.

He looked at her in a way that made it feel like he’d known her forever, like no one would ever know her better. “My parents
were Muslims, but they sort of lost their fervor for the dogma when they moved to the U.S.” He took a slow sip from his coffee.
“I’m agnostic. A skeptic, I guess. I believe people are entitled to believe. Whatever their beliefs.” He chuckled and put
his arm along the back of the bench. His shoulder muscles showed through his coat. “How’s that?”

She laughed too. “I like it.”

They talked for half an hour about politics and peace, raving radicals and religion before he paused for a long moment. “About
the film.” He angled his head, and she fell into his eyes. “Have you thought about it?”

Her attraction to him was growing stronger with every passing minute. He was interesting and intelligent, and so far a perfect
gentlemen. But somehow Andi felt stripped bare in his presence. Like he had a gift of seeing past the layers of formality
and pretense. “I have. I’d like to see the script.” She cupped her hands around her drink and hoped he couldn’t read the truth
— that her mind was made up. She was taking the role. She could hardly wait to work under his direction.

“I have a copy in my car. How much time do you have?”

She pulled her phone from her purse and checked it. “Ten minutes, maybe fifteen. We have an extra dance rehearsal before tonight’s
call. It’s a full company number.”

He looked at her a long time, and she felt herself react. His stare was like a physical caress, and after several seconds
she looked down at her drink.
What is this feeling,
she asked herself.
I’ve never experienced this in all my life.

“Andi.” His voice was velvet.

She looked up again.

“I love watching you on stage. You act with your whole body, heart, and soul. That’s important.” He leaned forward and rested
his elbows on his knees. “In the art of acting, our bodies are the colors. Our hearts the canvas. This sort of artwork is
expressed through the soul — if we’re gifted at it, anyway.” He patted her knee. “You’re gifted, Andi. When you act, you work
your magic straight through me. No doubt about that.” He stood. “I’ll get the script.” With an easy, loping jog he was off,
headed for the parking lot.

Andi exhaled and sank into the back of the wooden bench. It was like he has some supernatural power, something that rendered
her captive, caught in his spell. She sipped her coffee and tried to understand why she hadn’t felt this way before around
him. Now there was something about him that made her breath catch in her throat, her heart race out of control.

She steadied herself.
Get a grip, Andi. You’re being ridiculous.
But even as she handed out instructions to herself, she could smell his cologne hanging in the frozen air, hear his voice.
“I love watching you on stage … You’re gifted … You work your magic straight through me …”

She closed her eyes. This was crazy. She barely knew the guy. The script did matter, even if she hadn’t thought so a minute
ago. She would approach the next conversation with him differently, with her head in charge.

She sat straighter and took a few deep breaths, willing her head to clear. He jogged back up the path a moment later and sat
beside her again, a little closer than before. Had he given himself another spritz of cologne, or were her senses really that
aware of him? She blinked twice, focusing.

“Here.” He handed her a thin, stapled document. It couldn’t have been more than thirty, forty pages.

As the papers moved from his hand to hers, their fingers touched and a jolt of electric attraction ran through her veins,
dropping her stomach to her knees and making her fight for her next breath. Her mouth went dry, and she ran her tongue along
her lower lip. “Thank you.”

Taz was sitting sideways, facing her straight on. “The entire film won’t be longer than half an hour. But I’m looking for
a tremendous amount of energy in that time, a very powerful message.”

Andi wasn’t sure she should ask, but her curiosity got the better of her. “You told me a little about the plot, but … what’s
the theme?”

“It’s about pushing limits, taking chances and being willing to experience the consequences.” He looked away. “Consequences
aren’t always to be suffered, but to be experienced. Wholly — body and mind, heart and soul.” He found her eyes again. “If
we are willing to experience anything in honesty, then we can become more than ourselves.” He grinned, and the philosopher
was gone. “Besides … whatever the message, it’ll be unforgettable if you’re the lead.”

“Thank you.” The wind was picking up, and Andi started to shiver. “I’ll read it.” She tucked her chin in and felt her look
turn shy. “When do you need to know?”

“Take a week. You’ll need time after the show wraps tomorrow.”

She was flattered that he knew her schedule. “A week it is.”

He angled his head, flirting with her for all he was worth. “But you know … I was thinking something.”

“What’s that?” The chemistry between them made her forget being cold.

“I might need to add a line or two in the script. You know, since I’m the producer and director. And I’d have to ask your
thoughts on it.”

“True.”

“So …” His eyes became puppy-dog hopeful. “I was thinking — for the sake of the film — maybe I should get your number.”

She tried to keep a straight face, but she couldn’t. Laughter tickled her throat. She held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”

He did, and she entered herself and her number as a new contact. “There.” She gave it back to him. “In case you come up with
an extra line or two.”