Once Cassandra is out of sight, Seth makes his way back to the booth and questions me as to what I said to her and what she was like. I hated that question in particular because it means he's curious. Curiosity leads to dangerous attempts to get to know someone and understand them. I don't want him getting to know Cassandra at all.

But, I'm also not a liar.

So, I tell him the truth. She seemed nice and very forward, not easily intimidated, which I realize later is the worst thing I could have said. As words of praise tumble from my mouth, I can see the interest starting to glow behind his already very bright emerald eyes.

"You gonna give her a chance now?" I ask, my hands strangling each other in my lap.

He shrugs, pocketing his phone and then standing up. "Probably not."

"Good." It leaves my lips before I'm able to suck the single word back into my brain. My head is going to hurt so bad once I finish slamming it into my bedroom wall later.

"Good, why?"

I'm scrambling, but rather than fidget, I stretch my arms above my head and fake a yawn.

"Oh, you know," I say casually, hoping he can't hear the uncertainty in my tone, "you went from avoiding her two minutes ago to suddenly being interested because I happened to think she might be nice. If you want to look all desperate and gross, then go for it, but you don't know the girl at all."

"Wouldn't that be the point of giving her a chance?" he questions. Seth isn't the type to let his frustrations show, but I get the feeling I'm hitting a nerve because I see his jaw flex once as he waits for my response.

"Look," I say, standing to join Seth as we leave the coffee shop together. "I'm just saying, be careful. I saw some of those texts and those look like the determined words of a very hungry girl."

I laugh at my own choice of words, ignoring the fact that Seth doesn't join me. A moment later, he stops next to a Blue pickup truck and pulls his keys from his pocket. I watch him fiddle with them for a minute before swiveling around to face me. His forehead is pinched inquisitively but he hesitates. I prod him to speak with a lift of my brows and a nod in his direction.

"What would you recommend?"

I'm flattered that he'd seek my opinion. Maybe we're getting somewhere. A place where he actually values me as more than just another human being. Is this what a long-awaited friendship feels like? Though, not sure anyone else would consider three weeks very long.

I consider his question for a moment. I'd like to tell him to ditch the chick and make me his one and only, but I'm sure that'd make me crazier than Cassandra. There's no way I'm stooping to her level... at least, not in a way that's public. I prefer to keep that kind of crazy inside the safety of my own skull. So instead, I tilt my head to the side and smile softly.

"I say, let her starve a little longer and see if the beast is released."

I wait for him to find the humor in my dramatic response, but he simply sighs, shaking his head in what appears to be disappointment.

"What?" I question, needing to understand the thoughts swirling inside that vault of a head of his.

"Nothing." He waves me off as he unlocks his door. "Look, I got to go. Check your schedule tonight. I'll see you Tuesday."

"Sure."

He doesn't offer me another glance until he's shut his door and started up the engine. With a quick look my way and an absent-minded lift of his hand, he's backing away from me and turning out of the parking lot.

I feel tired. All I want to do is take a long, deep nap. Being around the person you like should be energizing, and usually, it is, but something about our goodbye felt weird. I hate thinking that my advice for Seth made him upset in some way. Like I let him down. But how? I didn't tell him to lead the girl on or cut her out of his life completely. I simply wanted him to be cautious... smart.

Usually, I'm drawn to Seth's curious, mystical behavior, but for the first time since meeting him, I'm actually so confused that I'm mad. I don't get mad... not very often anyway. But I'm mad at Seth for not noticing how much I want him, for not seeing me, for not wanting me back.

It all feels futile. A waste of energy and time. I've got classes to worry about and yet, here I am acting in his movie. I've dedicated precious hours to something I care nothing about simply because of a boy.

I'm pathetic.

Walking the short distance to my dorm, I make my way up the staircase. I'm all for elevators, but I'm not chancing getting stuck in there with a chatty dorm-mate, so stairs it is. I make it to my room and flop myself down on my bed where the musty scent of urine immediately bombards my senses.

"Emma..." I sigh, closing my eyes in exhaustion.

She must have replaced my pillow with hers—the one my sister's dog peed on earlier. Even without the smell, I'd recognize the obvious difference in comfort. I don't do memory foam. Terrible stuff.

Tossing the pillow, I grab my pajama pants off the end of my bed and roll them into a ball before shoving it under my head. Then I'm out.

———

As planned, I show up at the auditorium ten minutes early. I'm not surprised to find Seth and his film team already there getting the scenes prepped. There are lights set up on the stage, pointed toward the center where they've positioned a living room scene. Nothing about the movie has been shot in any kind of order, so today we get to shoot the scene where Seth finally realizes how bad I am for him. My part is quite small but important, and I plan to throw as much skill and genuine emotion into the scene as possible.

"Hey, Mercy!" Jamison greets as I make my way up the aisle.

Either Seth doesn't hear his friend greet me or he doesn't care, because he doesn't even glance away from the camera he's setting up. That's the thing about Seth, I could be offended by his lack of acknowledgment, but I'm coming to learn that that's just who he is. He's very focused and when he's in the zone, pulling him out of it can be a challenge.

"Hi," I respond, dropping my satchel into an empty seat and climbing the stairs to the stage.

I stand watching the two men as they set up tripods, and mount massive cameras, and link cables, and adjust lighting. It's quite a process, not one I have the slightest bit of interest in, but I do enjoy watching Seth in his element.

"Ok, we're ready to get started," Seth says, fiddling with a control pad on the camera. "You got a piece of paper with you, James?"

He looks up then and finally sees me, the lines in his forehead smoothing out when a gentle smile touches his lips.

"Hey, Mercy."

If I'm not mistaken, I'd say he seems genuinely pleased to see me. Or, maybe he's just pleased to see that I actually made it today.

I offer a small wave and step closer to see what it is that he's working on. When he suddenly steps toward me and takes my shoulders in his hands, I have to force myself to swallow. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment before dropping down to scan over my body. Someone must have lit a match and tossed it into my stomach because there's a burst of hot energy swarming inside of me at his unexpected attention.

Why's he checking me out like this? Seth doesn't normally look at me, or any woman for that matter, in such an intimate way. But just when I find myself melting into the warmth of his fingertips against my skin, he's maneuvering me across the stage and directly in front of the camera.

"Mind standing right here for a second?"

His question throws me off. I'd been so caught up in the possibility of this being a spontaneous, secret moment between us that I hadn't noticed just how detached Seth looked. His mind wasn't on me at all. He was wholly consumed by his task, and I happened to be the solution he needed at that moment.

"What are you doing?" I ask, watching as he rounds the camera and looks down at the small digital screen.

I can't see exactly what he's doing, but I continue to watch him push buttons as I stand motionless.

"You're wearing a white shirt," he explains.

I glance around the room, hoping to catch Jamison's eye so he can explain what the heck that has to do with anything.

"Is that a problem?" I ask, perching one hand on my hip as I cock my head at Seth. "There isn't going to be some kind of water fight in this scene, is there?"

"No," he assures me. "Your outfit looks great."

His indirect compliment has that little fire in my belly swarming again, but he barely gives me a moment to enjoy it before he's coming toward me again and moving me to stand in front of another camera.

"Two more times," he says.

I watch him as he works, loving his confidence and hating his ignorance. He doesn't see me. Even when he's looking at me, I feel like just another random human in his life. It's almost as if I'm his employee. I do what he expects of me and he knows my name and the very basics about who I am, but he doesn't actually know me. I know it's something I should probably just move past and give up on, but my heart yearns for him to want to know me. I don't even need him to try and know me; I just want him to want to.

"What are you doing?" I ask as he positions me in front of the third and final camera.

He looks up at me for a moment, as if realizing I'm a real person and not some prop. "White-balancing," he says, simply.

I lift my eyes toward Jamison, brows scrunched in confusion. He laughs softly, shaking his head. Unlike Seth, Jamison seems to understand that not everyone understands movie-making like Seth does.

"What does that mean?" I ask Jamison.

"It's basically how we get all the cameras to see the same way," Seth tells me, not aware that my question had been aimed at his friend. "We have to tell them what true white is so that they all see it the same way."

He steps away from the camera, looking up to find that I'm still confused.

"So," he continues, "if one camera believes gray is white and another thinks off-white is true white, then when we edit later, all the scenes will be different shades. One might be crisp while the other might look like it has some kind of yellow filter over it. This just helps us keep everything uniform."

I nod, grateful that he took the time to explain something that I know he doesn't care to waste time explaining. He smiles at me, his eyes narrowing for a moment as he lets them slide across my features. He steps closer to me for a moment, his hand reaching toward my face. Just before his fingers make contact, he freezes and turns toward Jamison.

"Is Sammy here yet?"

"Yep!"

The loud response comes from backstage, and a moment later a green-haired girl rounds the corner. She's pulling some kind of suitcase as she makes her way toward Seth.

"Hey Sammy," he smiles, pointing over his shoulder at me with his thumb. "Can we get some make-up on Mercy?"

"Of course." The girl smiles, motioning me to follow her.

"Make sure it's somewhat over-the-top. We need her to look like she's trying a little too hard."

His voice follows after us as we descend the steps of the stage and take a seat in the front row of the audience seating. Sammy waves off his request, clearly already aware of just how she wants the make-up done and not needing his opinion. Personally, I'm quite pleased that Seth doesn't feel as though I look like I'm 'trying too hard' already. At least the real me doesn't look as desperate as the character I'm portraying.

With hair done in loose curls and make-up lining my blue eyes, I finally look the part. Now we're ready to begin shooting. Unfortunately for everyone else, I'm already tired and we haven't even started. Having a passion for this kind of thing would make it all so much easier. Being close to Seth is barely even enough of a motivation for me at this point.

I watch Seth play out his part, his character so believable that I forget who I'm watching. His expressions are subtle enough to be genuine, and the way he phrases his lines adds suspense and, at times, even a little humor. He's the real deal... and then I step into the scene.

"Hey, babe!" I holler, strutting through want's meant to be the front door. People watching would never know I just walked out of a supply closet, especially since there's a fancy light in here that's about twice as bright as the sun—their attempt to make it look as though I'm walking in from outside.

"Kayla," my stage name leaves Seth's mouth with a soft gasp. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh..." I twirl my hair around my finger, grinning as I bite my bottom lip, "just missing you."

I mentally berate myself, wishing I could think up some better moves or a more creative way to be a clingy girlfriend that doesn't involve every cliche imaginable. Unfortunately for Seth, I'm not dedicated enough to put that level of energy into this.

"Cut!"

Seth's exasperated voice slices through the room and he inhales deeply before turning to face me.

"Do you think...?" He pauses, running his thumb across his brow as he considers his words. "I'm just wondering how it might feel if you use a little less..." He drifts off, unable to verbalize his thoughts. I watch his eyes dart toward Jamison who stands behind Camera 1.

"Maybe a little less snob," Jamison offers, shrugging tentatively.

"Okay," Seth agrees. "Yeah, try for sounding less like a snob," he winces, apologetic as he echos Jamison's words. "Be a little more like yourself and less like TV's idea of a mean girl. You're just a normal person with a few odd quirks, and despite being nice and beautiful, something just isn't working for Wes and he decides to end things. That's when your odd quirks turn into something a little more sinister and dangerous."

I swear, the only time Seth really talks is when he's immersed in his passion of movie production. Any other time, it's me leading the conversation and practically begging for him to elaborate. When he becomes consumed with something, he relaxes. When he relaxes, he talks. And in a place of comfort, sometimes he lets little truths slip past his lips. Ones he'd never let loose otherwise. And today he let a mind-boggling truth escape...

Seth thinks I'm beautiful. Not Kayla... Me.

He wants Kayla to be more like me. Nice, beautiful me.

I almost point out his little slip-up. I want to put him on the spot, make him squirm under my daring gaze. Would he deny it if I brought it up? I want to ask, but I keep silent. It's unlike me, but my feelings for Seth are unlike me too and I'd hate to ruin the direction our friendship is going by being too forward.

We spend another two hours shooting the scene and I realize I've missed lunch by the time we finish up. It's almost three and with the cafeteria closed, I might as well starve to death. I have no job and no money, which is probably something that needs to change soon. I'm getting awfully tired of uni spaghetti and taking my entire closet home to wash every other weekend. It's nice to have parents generous enough to pay for my gas or I'd be washing my clothes in the sink.

"What're you doing for lunch?" I hear Jamison ask Seth.

Seth is busy taking down equipment and putting them away in their cases, but glances up at his friend's question.

He shrugs. "Nothing. Figured I'd just eat whatever I managed to find in the dorm.

"Bleh." Jamison makes a face, shaking his head in disapproval. "Boring. No, you're coming with me. I found this place a couple of towns over. Best barbecue!"

Seth laughs, returning to his task of tearing down the cameras and getting everything packed away. It's just the three of us now, Sammy and the two other camera guys left the moment Seth yelled the last 'cut!'. I'd unplugged some things and tidied up the stage, but now I was free.

Grabbing my bag from the chair, I start to make my way out of the auditorium.

"See you guys later!" I yell over my shoulder, not expecting anything more than a 'bye' from the two men behind me, but Jamison's voice stops me.

"Want to grab lunch with us?"

I swivel around to find him wrapping a cord around his arm as he waits for my response. Seth is watching me too from where he's kneeling on the floor sliding battery packs and lenses into his camera bag. His expression doesn't hint at much, so it's impossible to tell if he actually wants me to go or if he's indifferent.

"Uh, sure," I answer, heading back toward the stage.

I'm careful to keep my focus off of Seth while still being hyper-aware of every one of his movements. When he simply returns to his task, I wonder if he's bummed out that I'm joining him. I get that I'm what some might call an acquired taste. It takes a little time to appreciate the full Mercy and some never do, but I never got the impression that I left a bitter taste in Seth's mouth. I just figured he wasn't interested in a romantic way, but maybe it's more than that. Maybe he's just not interested at all.

Something twists in my stomach and I clear my throat, tucking a now very limp curl behind my ear.

"Can I help?" I ask Jamison, not wanting to bother Seth as it appears he's still in his zone.

"Sure."

Jamison hands me another cord and I do my best to mimic his actions. While his looks like a perfectly wound coil when he's done, mine looks like a child attempting to tie a shoelace. I grimace as I hand the cord back to him, but he just smiles and throws it in a duffle bag with dozens of its brothers and sisters.

It takes another half an hour to clean up and I'm pretty sure I'm losing weight as I stand here letting my body eat the meat right off my bones. What makes it all worse is that Jamison's beloved barbecue restaurant is a good hour away.

I sit in the back of Jamison's Land Rover, trying to stay quiet even though I'm dying to break my way into their conversation. I hear talk about 'the game' and hitting the gym tomorrow and 'her'—whoever that is—but never once do they address me. I'm beginning to wonder if I made a mistake in agreeing to join them until we pull up to our destination and the smell of smoked, seasoned pork hits my senses.

"Wow," I moan, eliciting a soft chuckle from Seth.

We all hop out of the vehicle, and I'm surprised when Seth turns to help open my door before shutting it behind me. I thank him and we all walk toward the large stone structure.

"This looks expensive," I mumble, suddenly realizing just how little money I have in my bank account. Yes, my parents drop some cash in there each month, but it's mostly for gas and emergencies. But I suppose I could label this as an emergency. I am starving.

The entrance is grand, and I catch a glimpse of water through the wall of windows on the far side of the room. The waitress leads us to a set of stairs and we ascend to the upper floor where we find a balcony overlooking a river.

"Uh..." I scan the area, noticing how quiet it is here at this time of day. Lunch is long gone and dinner is still an hour or two away, so it's just us. "Is this a date?" I ask, laughing as the waitress shows us to our table near the balcony railings.

"Seems that way, huh?" Seth narrows his eyes at Jamison in playful suspicion. "Jamison, you got something you need to tell me? I mean, I know I'm irresistible, but..."

"It's true," he admits, sighing dramatically, "you are fabulous. Isn't he, Mercy?"

I almost choke, not expecting the abrupt spotlight.

"But no," Jamison continues, saving me from making a complete fool of myself. "As handsome as you are, my friend, Amelia has my whole heart."

"Amelia?" I question, watching the waitress return to fill our water glasses.

"His girlfriend of, what, fifty years?" Seth looks at Jamison for confirmation.

"Yeah, something like that" he answers, grinning. "She's..." His voice fades as he clears his throat and I wonder if he's getting choked up just thinking about her. I smile at the thought. "I'm planning on asking her to marry me in the next few months."

Seth drops his eyes to his clasped hands on the table, grinning at his friend's announcement. He doesn't seem surprised, only proud.

"That's exciting," I tell him. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." Jamison bobs his head, fighting back a smile before grabbing one of the menus left on the table and skimming through it.

No one speaks as we each glance through the menu, my mouth watering at the descriptions. When the waitress returns to take our order, I let Seth and Jamison order first while I try to figure out what I should get.

"I'll get a grilled chicken salad," I finally decide, pushing the menu away from me only to find two sets of green eyes staring at me in displeasure.

"Great," the blonde-haired, busty waitress says. "I'll get these orders in for you."

"This is a barbecue house," Jamison reminds me as the waitress walks away, "and you're getting a salad?"

"Well," I shrug, feeling oddly uncomfortable beneath their curious gazes. "There are no prices on the menu, so I figured a salad was safe."

"Hold on!" Seth suddenly hollers to the waitress, waving her back, and then turns to me. "Don't worry about money. I got this, okay?"

Jamison gasps, offended.

"I'll get yours too," Seth laughs, shaking his head at his friend.

"This really is a date," Jamison jokes, propping his cheek in the palm of his hand. "Thanks, darling."

"Shut up," Seth mutters, fighting back a laugh but not sparing Jamison a glance as his eyes hold mine. "What do you really want?"

His question soaks into my skin and ricochets around into my ribs until it ruptures through my heart. If only he understood what that question was doing to me. The agony of waiting for him to see me. Really see me. But, telling him that he's what I want would turn this evening into something very uncomfortable. I'm awkward, but I don't think I'm that bad. Ignoring the temptation to answer that question in the most inappropriate way, I simply smile and order the brisket.

For the next two hours, I watch Seth come alive. It's no longer quick responses and him quietly observing while Jamison and I chat. No, Seth is more present than I've ever seen him. I like it too much.

I like listening to the slight rasp in his voice, and the way it sometimes catches. I love how as the moon descends across the river, it illuminates his face in a way that brings out his cheekbones and the sharp edges of his jaw. I love it when his eyes rest on my face. When he's not hiding himself from me, his attention feels intimate because it's so intentional. Like he's a secret that he's finally letting me peek inside of. And I'm loving what I'm seeing.

But I have to stop this.

I have to regain some control because I've let my mind wander too far. I've let my emotions get too out of hand. This is the moment when I've come to realize just how dangerously vulnerable I've allowed myself to become. I used to joke about being obsessed, but now I'm creeping myself out. I can only imagine how uncomfortable he'd feel if he could see into my mind right now. He wouldn't be flattered by my thoughts, that's for sure; he'd be horrified.

So I make the decision, at this moment, that enough is enough. I need to regain some control of myself before my actions start pushing him away. I don't think I can be around him anymore without leaking my true intentions little by little, so keeping a little bit of distance is necessary. Some kind of distraction might help too.

A blind man could see that Seth has no attraction toward me. I'm his co-star and possible friend. That's all I should be hoping for at this point.

Looking at him as I try to shift my mind away from him is nearly impossible. He doesn't even realize how consuming he is. His presence is like a sunrise: eye-catching from the moment it arrives only to become more brilliant as the day goes on. I'm starving for a little bit of dark—an escape from his sizzling charm.

But that doesn't appear to be an option right now, because it seems our night has only barely begun.