lunchtime sex, preferring to burn off calories rather than consume them. She also prefers not to limit herself to her room. I hoist my bag up again and walk slowly back down to the street. It’s bad enough that Ryan is a fixture in all my classes, but does he really have to take over my personal life too? I mean, I don’t know what —
Wait a minute.
I pause, frozen on the sidewalk outside. Ryan had just been in class with me at the main campus. I power walked to the transit stop and caught a shuttle bus straightaway, so even if he drove himself, he still wouldn’t have had time to get through traffic and get naked with Morgan by the time I got back.
She wasn’t with him.
It probably makes me a terrible person, but a small smile spreads across my face at the thought. Ryan acts as if he knows everything, but Mr. Know-It-All doesn’t know this. And I’m not about to tell him.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Ryan collapses in the seat opposite me and shoots me a wary look. Unlike the creaking old bookcases and dark wood back at Raleigh, the library study room here is small and bright. I’ve set out the table with copies of my changed script, as well as plain notepads, pens, and bottled water. Everything is planned for this to be as quick and painless as possible.
“Why don’t you take a read through it and then we’ll talk?” I pass him a stack of pages I’ve had bound in a blue folder. He gingerly takes one between his thumb and forefinger as if it’s toxic. I pretend to scan through a textbook while he reads, but I can’t help sneaking looks across the table to try to gauge his reaction. He’s pulled another seat next to him and kicked off his Converses, resting the pages on his brown cords. I thought he was one of the hipster boys, with those black skinny jeans and plaid shirts, but today he’s looking more nerdy in a stripy knit vest.
I wonder who Morgan was with.
Time stretches on. He clears his throat and I glance up, but his face is entirely free from emotion, giving me no hint at all what he thinks. Despite myself, I’m nervous. Ryan’s original script was the story of a boy who finds some of his grandfather’s old letters and is inspired to make changes in his life: admitting how he feels to his long-term crush, finally breaking away from an old friend who’s become a bad influence. It’s a sweet concept, but Ryan tried so hard to be unconventional that he forgot that conventions exist to give the story structure and conflict.
“You killed the grandfather?” Finally finishing, Ryan looks over at me, his expression still hard to read.
I nod. “This way, he’s got a reason to follow the advice. It’s emotional blackmail.”
Ryan narrows his eyes thoughtfully. “And you moved the scenes with his crush around.”
“We went through that in class.” I try to keep my voice gentle. I can tell he’s liable to get defensive. “I know you don’t want the romance to be the main focus, but they’re the best scenes. You want them to be the dramatic high point.”
There’s a long pause. Ryan looks back down at the script and flicks his pencil against the edge of the table.
Tap-tap-taptap.
It echoes in the tiny space.
Tap-tap-taptap.
“Can you not do that?”
Tap-tap-taptap.
I glare at him. He smirks back.
“Relax,” he tells me. I sigh, pulling my hair back into a tighter plait.
“The changes?” I remind him.
“Sure, whatever.” His voice is so nonchalant, I can’t believe it.
“‘Whatever’?” I repeat. “I thought this was the most important thing in your life.”
“Lowell’s always telling us to get distance from our work.” Ryan begins to smile now that he knows he’s annoying me. And just for good measure, he begins with the pencil again.
Tap-tap-taptap.
I have to fold my hands together to stop myself reaching out and snatching it from him.
“We start shooting on Saturday,” he says, as if I don’t already have a schedule mapped out, complete with time for
Wait a minute.
I pause, frozen on the sidewalk outside. Ryan had just been in class with me at the main campus. I power walked to the transit stop and caught a shuttle bus straightaway, so even if he drove himself, he still wouldn’t have had time to get through traffic and get naked with Morgan by the time I got back.
She wasn’t with him.
It probably makes me a terrible person, but a small smile spreads across my face at the thought. Ryan acts as if he knows everything, but Mr. Know-It-All doesn’t know this. And I’m not about to tell him.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Ryan collapses in the seat opposite me and shoots me a wary look. Unlike the creaking old bookcases and dark wood back at Raleigh, the library study room here is small and bright. I’ve set out the table with copies of my changed script, as well as plain notepads, pens, and bottled water. Everything is planned for this to be as quick and painless as possible.
“Why don’t you take a read through it and then we’ll talk?” I pass him a stack of pages I’ve had bound in a blue folder. He gingerly takes one between his thumb and forefinger as if it’s toxic. I pretend to scan through a textbook while he reads, but I can’t help sneaking looks across the table to try to gauge his reaction. He’s pulled another seat next to him and kicked off his Converses, resting the pages on his brown cords. I thought he was one of the hipster boys, with those black skinny jeans and plaid shirts, but today he’s looking more nerdy in a stripy knit vest.
I wonder who Morgan was with.
Time stretches on. He clears his throat and I glance up, but his face is entirely free from emotion, giving me no hint at all what he thinks. Despite myself, I’m nervous. Ryan’s original script was the story of a boy who finds some of his grandfather’s old letters and is inspired to make changes in his life: admitting how he feels to his long-term crush, finally breaking away from an old friend who’s become a bad influence. It’s a sweet concept, but Ryan tried so hard to be unconventional that he forgot that conventions exist to give the story structure and conflict.
“You killed the grandfather?” Finally finishing, Ryan looks over at me, his expression still hard to read.
I nod. “This way, he’s got a reason to follow the advice. It’s emotional blackmail.”
Ryan narrows his eyes thoughtfully. “And you moved the scenes with his crush around.”
“We went through that in class.” I try to keep my voice gentle. I can tell he’s liable to get defensive. “I know you don’t want the romance to be the main focus, but they’re the best scenes. You want them to be the dramatic high point.”
There’s a long pause. Ryan looks back down at the script and flicks his pencil against the edge of the table.
Tap-tap-taptap.
It echoes in the tiny space.
Tap-tap-taptap.
“Can you not do that?”
Tap-tap-taptap.
I glare at him. He smirks back.
“Relax,” he tells me. I sigh, pulling my hair back into a tighter plait.
“The changes?” I remind him.
“Sure, whatever.” His voice is so nonchalant, I can’t believe it.
“‘Whatever’?” I repeat. “I thought this was the most important thing in your life.”
“Lowell’s always telling us to get distance from our work.” Ryan begins to smile now that he knows he’s annoying me. And just for good measure, he begins with the pencil again.
Tap-tap-taptap.
I have to fold my hands together to stop myself reaching out and snatching it from him.
“We start shooting on Saturday,” he says, as if I don’t already have a schedule mapped out, complete with time for
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