MESSY
006, honey cheerios

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olympiahartley: random photos from the first two months of shooting ✨
tagged: chiararocci

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username: ugh I actually love her!!

username1: they are my Amelia & Bianca!!

chiararocci: 💘
↳ olympiahartley: xxx

username2: 🥹🥹

username3: no photos of Callum???
↳ username4: god, leave her alone about her and Callum!!!

florencepugh: come home I miss you!! x
↳ olympiahartley: 🥹💘

username5: living for these photo dumps!!

daisyedgarjones: pretty pretty girl

username6: need more updates about the film!!!

username7: no drew comment??
   ↳ username8: shut up, they're literally both working atm!!

IM TIRED. We've been shooting since six am, and it's now verging midnight — I sit in the chair as they restage the set that we're using to film, the outhouse where mine and Chiara's characters have been staying for the summer in preparation for tomorrow.

And as Chiara pulls me into a hug, about to get a car back to the house — she whispers that I'll be great before being escorted to the car.

She says this because across the other side of this resting area is Callum, and in the next few minutes we're having our first scene together. Our First scene alone together, without other characters and cast as buffers. We haven't spoken beyond what was necessary and I've hated it, but that's necessary because he doesn't want to be friends, just coworkers, and I hate that word.

Soon enough we're beckoned to the set, a beautiful kitchen in a villa even more beautiful than the one we're living in. There's green tiling and a big old fashioned gas oven

If I was cook, this would be a wet dream of mine.

People hover around, touching up makeup and toying with my hair, looking at the lighting as I mentally recite the script I've been reading with heavy eyes for the last couple hours.

I look up, and he's in the doorway — out of shot, he looks pretty. I divert my eyes away quickly before he can see my lingering gaze. The people around me disperse and eventually the director says,

" action.", and I begin to toy with the culinary instruments that have been laid on the counters in front of me — they call in Callum, and then I look up and pretend to act shocked that he's stood in the doorway ( and not like we've done this exact thing ten times before this, from different angles)

" Jesus, you scared me." I laugh, the smile consuming my lips fake because I don't want to smile at him — having avoided him at home for the last week, since the garden. I don't let it interfere my work though, for a glimpse we see a life we were once so familiar with.

Luckily all our shoots before this one are with the other costars, so I find his gaze when the cameras are rolling, try to hide the hurt that sits in the eyes that I know he meets and when the cameras are stopped, I don't meet his gaze again.

He leans in the frame of the doorway, cameras watching his every movement " sorry, I was just admiring the master."

I roll my eyes and shake my head " I am no master, just experienced." I continue to toy with the fake bread dough.

He steps in, just like in the book, like it says in the script. Leaning against the counter, only a few metres away " so what are you doing?"

I look up, catch his eyeline — and bow my head as I fake a heat to rush to my cheeks " the thing that I'm paid to do."

I look at him again as he gives me a look that a year ago would make me melt " wow, spare the details will you now?" his tone is cocky and I shake my head.

" I'm making the bread that you'll eat at breakfast tomorrow." I tilt my head and he nods edging closer and I take note of it, with my lingering gaze as he slides over to my side of the counter.

" need help?" he asks and my eyes give him a look that make his lips curve and dimples deepen.

" won't your parents kill you if they see you helping...what did they call me again-" his face falls slowly and he stands up, straightening his posture.

" me and my parents are two entirely different people." I gives him an unconvinced look, as he slides around to behind me.

The shivers that climb my back are real, how his hands slide down my arms that due to the costume design are bare — the way my head tilts and looks at him as I let out a staggered breath is not in this script but I just know it'll end up in the Final Cut.

" and, they don't stay up past nine pm so we're in luck." his voice is low, his breath hits the side of my neck because once again due to the costume design my hair is up.

And I like my character, pull away. And watch as Callum's face drops " I can't do this."

He steps closer but I turn on my heel and walk to the sink — I squint my eyes shut as the director eventually calls 'cut', I turn to look at Callum who's stood looking at me as the people on set move around yet we stand still.

I hate ignoring him. I hate feeling so far away from him, but this is the way it is, the way he seemingly wants it to be. And as much as I detest it, I have to respect it.

And we do that about six more times, each time it hurts more so my performance is even better — entrapped in a prison of false affection from my ex best friend.

" we'll wrap that up for today." the director calls and I break eye contact with Callum who lets his linger and wait until I'm given the green light to go back to my trailer. Which I do with immediate effect — changing back into my glorified pyjamas and taking a car back to the house. Crashing onto the sheets of my bed as I finally look at my phone.

contact: drew 💌

drew
you up?

I watch as the notification comes up, the contact I've neglected over the last few days, so I click on it.

Olympia
yea, just got back from set

drew
📞?

I exhale, pressing the small phone icon in the corner and pushing it to my ear as I crash into the duvets of my bed.

" hello." his voice is gentle, and I smile slightly.

" hi." I say, and it hangs in the air for a moment before each of us speak — it feels weird, somethings different between us. It's been two months since we last saw each other, days since we last spoke on the phone, a week since our last face time.

We're busy, we know that's it. But it's a big change from what we're use to, our apartment we rented in New York — every night either drew being sat in the audience of streetcar or waiting in my dressing room with some flowers or more commonly a pizza that we'd eat before we left.

" how are you?" this is too formal for us, like I'm talking to a potential employer and not my boyfriend.

I sigh " good, yeah I'm good just tired."

Another beat of silence, as we wait for one another " when am I going to see you again?" he asks, I forget how Americans don't pander like us brits do.

I close my eyes, I know this question was coming " I'm not sure, it's pretty full on over here." I tell him and hear a sigh, it's tired but not like the tired I feel — more like fed up.

" soon though." I say, although it won't be. We know that — opposite sides of the world and all that.

Silence again until " I miss you." he tells me and I smile softly as I turn over on my side.

" miss you too." I say but it comes out more like whisper, there's more silence that echos from us as there's noise in the back.

" look," he says " I'm getting called to set, but I'll call you in an hour or two."

I shake my head although he can't see that "Drew, I'm going to bed."

A huff leaves his mouth, " right, well talk to you soon then." He sounds angry, annoyed at me. But I'm too tired to fight him on it. Instead I hum,

" bye Drew."

" Later Olympia."

And the line cuts off — I turn my phone off and place it on the sheets. I try to sleep until my stomach grumbles and I groan that I have to get up.

I leave my phone where it is, traipsing down to the kitchen. Reaching for a bowl and the honey cheerios', moving to position myself on a counter top, legs dangling over the side as I begin to feed myself pieces of dry cereal — eyes closed, silence consumes me until:

" dry honey cheerios? A Olly favourite." his voice makes me look up with wide eyes, he's in the doorway I don't know how long he's been watching me but I nod. He must have just gotten in and had the same idea as me.

" too tired to make pasta, forgot to get dinner on set." I say, factually instead of being personal — I'm shutting him out because it hurts to try and let him in.

He does his little nod with a hum as he comes in closer — I pick another piece of cereal and place it in my mouth, " would've thought you'd be knocked out after the day you've had." he says and I shake my head.

" apparently I've turned into an insomniac." I say, and he laughs although I don't find it funny. He comes in closer, too close for someone who wants to be strictly coworkers.

" this is like the first night of shooting fantastic beasts." he says and my head turns like I haven't been thinking about the similarities of it all.

We met the morning before, we didn't really talk — it was my first big job for a while, and being a Harry Potter fanatic growing up I felt a lot of pressure on my shoulders so I didn't really to speak to anyone beyond what was polite ( Callum included) . That night he found me on the sofa of the flat we were sharing, in my pajamas watching some rerun of eastenders eating a bowl of dry honey flavoured cereal. We both couldn't sleep, too jacked up on caffeine from the late night shoot to fall asleep.

He sat with me, sharing the cereal with proceeded to seeing how far across the room we could throw it into the others mouth. It solidified our friendship that first night, we were inseparable after that day — in each others trailers all the time, sitting in one another scenes despite if we were meant to be there or not.

" still can't believe you could catch a cheerio from ten metres away." I say, amusement in my voice as he laughs " what can I say?"

I push his shoulder, and it's like nothings happened for a moment — We're looking at each other like we're each others whole world again, sat next to each other eating cereal. For a moment I feel like I've got my best friend back.

For a moment, it doesn't feel like I lost him at all.

The words ' I miss you' form on my tongue, I could say it — speak my truth. But instead I softly smile and turn my head back and instead offer the box of cereal to him instead. He digs his hand in and picks some out.

We just sit there, silently eating our cereal and waiting for someone to mess it up — to cross the line that moves so often I don't know when I've crossed it. So I don't speak, we silently enjoy each other's company sat on the counter of the kitchen, legs brushing and so do our hands — stomach fluttering, heart rate increasing.

I may not have him, but I like the fact that right now I haven't lost him entirely.

AUTHORS NOTE.
I'm back!!!

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