Chapter Six

Natasha

"I'm coming to New York," Clara declares with unnecessary enthusiasm.

"For what?" As I chew the burger chunk, I inquire. I have a large bite of it in my mouth.

"To meet my crush. Ethan Wilder." She's definitely bouncing and jumping over her bed, even if I can't see her through her phone. I swallow down the burger, swallowing it with the Coke.

"Are you insane? I snap. "You don't need to." My unsettling voice makes everyone in the cafe turn their heads. Despite being one of Ethan's biggest admirers, Clara hasn't had the opportunity to meet him in person.

"Excellent. What kind of best friend are you? You’re having fun with him, but you expect me to let it aside.”

"It's my work, and I'm not having any fun," I assert firmly.

"Why am I not allowed there? I'd like to meet you, too. If you don't remember, it's been a while," she says naively.

I roll my eyes. "I clearly remember that you visited me last month and borrowed my favorite dress, Bitch," I say dryly. "And why in the world do you want to come here, just to use that dramatic ass to ruin my life?"

That’s enough.

"You know what? I fucking hate you because you are so mean." I shove the phone away from my ear as she shouts into it. Her voice is discordant and annoying.

I also display some attitude: "I hate you too, bitch."

In that case, how am I expected to be behind?

She challenges me with her stupid and pointless busting attitude, raising her voice. "Okay, just wait and watch."

Yes, I will wait for it." I know she can't do anything; therefore, I don't care about her warning at all. She's always this headstrong.

A pause.

"What about your attractive stalker, by the way?" "Any updates on him?" she adds shamelessly. She knows he’s stalking me, not asking me out.

“Not yet.” I cannot reveal what happened at the shooting place.

“Oh, speaking of your proposal, don’t you think they’re moving too quickly?” She brings out a question that has been on my mind for the past three days.

"I know, but I'm not harboring any second thoughts since they picked the most talented actors for it," I assure her.

She hums as she continues. “If you’re sure, I have no objections. Keep me updated periodically, especially about your stalker.” She giggles, her voice husky.

"Definitely, Ma’am." I shake my head at the response. And she terminates the call.

The phone chimes once more.

"What do you want now? Just hang up already," I answer the phone without looking at it.

"Miss Natasha, it's me." I gasp at the familiar voice. Damn, I forgot to check the phone before answering it.

"My apologies, I mistook you for someone else." My voice shakes for a fraction of a second.

What the fuck is wrong with me today?

"Someone? What exactly do you mean? If you need my assistance, please let me know. He pulls his cheap line.

I huff. “May I ask what prompted your call, Sir?” I switch the subject, hoping he may consider some nice sorts.

“Oh, yes, yes, I remember. Mr. Edwardson wants to see you,” he utters. I don’t think I have heard this name before.

"Umm, Mr.—who?" I asked gently. I have no idea what he is talking about. I had no appointments with anyone.

"The producer of this studio."

My eyes widen at his response.

"Oh, I’m sorry. I don't think I recognized the name. But why do they want to meet me?" I apologize again.

"I don't have any idea, but he said that he wants to see you; maybe it's just your proposal." My proposal. They've already begun working on it, and it was chosen, so why suddenly?

"Alright. I will be there." I end the call. I quickly head to the studio after paying and finishing my meal.

𖥸

My mind is whirling wildly. I have a dreadful sensation that something negative is about to happen, but I'm not sure what it is. I sometimes feel like something horrible is about to happen.

It’s the same shit I’m having.

I halt the car in the parking lot; I don’t know how much time it’s going to take with him. My heart is racing. I can even hear those beats without placing a hand on my chest.

I need to relax; this is not the first time I am going for an interview. And this is not my interview; this is just a small meeting with the producer. If I calm myself down, I'll finish smoothly.

I take a deep breath; the receptionist nods at me, and I just smile back at her in response.

I hold my steps in front of the office. The name on the golden plate indicates it’s his room.

The door seems to be fitted from the inside, which means he is already here. I take a deep breath again and exhale slowly, raising my hand to knock on the door.

“No need to knock. Come in.” I pause as the unknown voice vibrates from inside.

Weird. I open the door lightly.

I groan in frustration. I guess every person in this studio is mentally off or dropped their brains somewhere.

He is sitting in the same position just like that bald man, swinging on his chair. It’s complete nonsense.

“Please have a seat, Miss Bennett,” he utters from the back. Is this man going to turn around or not, or do I have to find the perfect VIP hour for him?

“I am extremely sorry that I did not meet you in the first place.” He turns back at me, in slow motion but in a more anxious way than he was. I startle and let out a small gasp, opening my mouth a little wide as I recognize his face.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, leaning on the desk, placing his hands on the table. “Would you prefer some water?” He fills in. His gaze slows down as he inquires about my well-being.

“Yes, I’m fine.” I control my facial expressions, pinching my thighs a little stronger. The man I was staring at in the traffic is my boss. The producer of this studio.

Why do I always find myself amid these ridiculous coincidences? Fucking shit.

The way he’s talking and asking me, it seems he does not remember me, and if it's true, then I should act more normal so he will think this is our first time meeting each other.

Just need to act normal. Just normal.

I hold down my breath, compressing a ton of the thoughts running into my useless mind.

He looks even more attractive in the face. His broad shoulders, veiny hands, and charming eyes.

What the fuck am I thinking about? This isn't the time for falling in love with someone who is older than me.

“You know what? You are the youngest author among all the television industries,” he smirks. The director told me he selected my proposal because he liked it. I want to ask him, but I don’t dare to bring myself to do it.

“Oh, I see.” It’s embarrassing. I have never talked to anyone without any topic of discussion. He is just staring at me, and I’m gathering some courage to ask him what’s going on in my single brain cell mind.

“Actually, I wanted to express my gratitude for choosing my proposal, but Mr. Miller mentioned that you have been pretty busy with work, so I couldn’t get any opportunity to convey my thanks.” Finally, after the whole damn awkward moment and processing those words into my mind, I spit out my words.

“There’s nothing to be thankful for. I find your story plot different and interesting.” His words make my heart flutter and feel proud of myself.

“Thank you so much, sir,” I express my gratitude again. My words are not enough. If he had not selected my proposal, I would hardly have had any chance.

“There’s no need to be overly joyous.” My smile fades for a moment. “Well, this isn’t the main reason I invited you here,” he grins, opening the drawer of the table. He takes some papers and places them in front of me.

“What is it?” I ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“My proposal, you can call it an agreement as well,” he chuckles.

“What kind of agreement is it?” I ask.

“See, I have signed your proposal, and now it’s your turn to sign mine.” The smirk doesn’t leave his face.

Sign his proposal? What is he talking about?

He glances at me and then at the proposal. I grab papers in my hands and run my eyes over every single word. I laugh reading the headline of the agreement.