Chapter 13

I'm sorry your name doesn't touch his lips

I know it kills you to find out like this

And I think you're crazy

For letting him slip through your hands

I heard you're waiting around

But you don't stand a chance

~*~*~*~*~*~

Tuesday, September 16, 2019.

"Dammit, Juliette! Can't you just fucking concentrate for once?"

I winced as Vince, my director, yelled at me. I actually thought I'd been doing a pretty decent job at the scene we were currently filming, but apparently not. "I'm sorry, Vince. I'll try harder."

"Please do, before I start thinking about hiring another actress. At this point, I'm beginning to think even the fucking P.A.s can act better."

I felt the tears sting behind my eyes as I tried to ignore the incredibly hurtful jab. My anxiety and generally low self-esteem made it hard to, though. Actually, it was pretty much the only thing I could think of.

He's right, a voice in my head whispered. It had become a lot more vocal over the past few months. You're worthless as an actress. Actually, you're pretty much worthless as a human being in general. No wonder you never hear from Henry anymore.

I shook my head, trying to think happy thoughts. Instead of focusing on the negative, I tried to recall Hanna's voice. You're my best friend, and you can do anything you set your mind to. You're the bestest, most kickass girl I know.

I smiled. She'd said it to me last week, but somehow her voice rang clear in my head as if she was saying it to me in person right next to me. It must be that best friend telepathy we so often joked about.

I wrestled my way through the scene as best I could. I tried to assume the identity of my character, but Vince's comments kept swimming around in my head. This wasn't the only time he'd said something hurtful. Actually, he'd said so many hurtful things—not only to me, but also to the rest of the cast and crew—that you'd think I'd be used to it by now. But every comment hurt more than the last.

When he finally granted us a break, I released a relieved breath and retreated to a silent corner, grabbing a bottle of Coca-Cola Life on the way. I grabbed my phone and opened up my photos. I scrolled up, my eyes automatically searching for the pictures of Henry and me at the beach.

We hadn't seen each other in months. The last time I'd seen him was at the wrap party for If You Love Someone. We'd sort of remained in touch through texts and calls, but Henry was busy reprising his role as Superman, and our calls became less frequent quickly. Our last text was from a few weeks ago.

And yet, somehow, those strong feelings I'd had for him by the end of filming If You Love Someone were still very much there. I missed him every day. But I just couldn't bring myself to text him. Part of me felt like he'd gotten sick of me and didn't message me anymore because he simply didn't want to. So I didn't know why I kept torturing myself by looking at the pictures so often. It hurt to look at them, but it also made me feel a little safer, a little closer to him. And so, every time I needed a break from my real life, which had somehow gotten even worse after auditioning for this role, I looked at the pictures. If they had been physical copies, they'd be faded from being looked at so much by now.

I was just about to zoom in on Henry's smiling face when my phone buzzed with a text, saving me from more unnecessary pain. It was from Hanna, making me think that maybe best friend telepathy was actually a thing.

how r u babe?

Worthless, apparently.

what? no ur not!!!! did that fucking punk say something again?

Yeah. Same old, same old. Nothing I haven't heard before.

need me 2 come 2 u and punch him 4 u?

As much as I would like you to, I need to get back to filming. I'll text you when I'm coming home, okay?

i'll be waiting w/ a huge pepperoni pizza and cookie dough ice cream. love u.

I smiled and tried not to cry as I felt my heart swell. I loved my best friend so incredibly much, and it was times like these where I realized that I would never be able to live without her. We'd been joined at the hip since we were four years old. That was twenty three years ago now. I couldn't remember my life without her and hoped I never would. I stood up from where I'd been sitting, wiping away a single tear, and made my way back to set.

I took a deep breath before turning the last corner, attempting to brace myself for the onslaught of painful jabs I was sure to get thrown my way.

"There she fucking is!" Vince yelled, throwing up his hands in frustration. "Really, Juliette, it's time you show a bit of professionalism. You don't want to be known for being a tardy diva, do you?"

"Look who's talking," I grumbled under my breath.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hanna? Please tell me you've already ordered that pizza," I said, throwing my keys on the side table in the hallway. I kicked my shoes off and traipsed into the living room.

Hanna was sitting on the couch, her legs curled under her and her blonde hair in its usual messy bun atop her head. She turned the volume of the TV down as I entered the room. "No, I haven't. I didn't want to risk it getting cold before you got here, seeing as that asshole director of yours has a tendency to make his actors stay late. But I'll tell you what. Why don't you go upstairs and change into something more comfortable, maybe take a shower if you want to, and then the pizzas will be here when you get back downstairs."

I smiled at her, hoping my gratitude for her showed on my face. "That sounds like a great idea. See you in a bit, babe."

She gave me a comforting smile and grabbed her laptop to order the pizzas online.

I slowly moved up the stairs, too tired from the day I'd had to go any faster. I'd been up since five a.m. and listening to Vince's well-placed jabs since seven a.m. Today had also been quite a physical day on set, having to stand and walk a lot, and with how few breaks Vince gave us, that tended to wear down a person, even if they didn't have anxiety like me.

I turned the shower on and stepped under the stream, trying to forget all about today, but of course, my mind couldn't leave it alone. It replayed everything Vince had told me today.

Oh my fucking God, how can you fuck up walking into a room?

Don't we have some Spanx for that stomach of hers or something? Come on, people, there's gotta be a way that makes her look less fat.

Juliette, just do your fucking job for once. We have better things to do than watch you fuck up all day.

Really? Again? Dammit, Juliette, 'death by asphyxiation' isn't that hard to say.

I sank to the shower floor, letting the water beat down on my head as silent tears streamed down my face. I clutched my knees to my chest as violent sobs made it hard to breathe, but I forced myself to stay quiet. I didn't want Hanna to know I was crying. I wished I'd never auditioned for this role. But Vince Grieve was a big name in the industry, and my agent had told me that it would be great for my career if I were to get the part. Great for my career, maybe, but definitely not for my mental health.

It was all kind of too much. My general anxiety. My uncertainties about Henry and not having heard from him in forever. How I was still hopelessly head over heels for him. The verbal abuse I went through every damn day on set. I wanted to stay in this shower forever, curled up on the floor as I cried. It was the only place where I still felt safe to let my emotions out. I hardly ever shared them with my friends anymore—not even Hanna. I felt like I would only bother them, and that was the last thing I wanted to do.

But eventually I knew it was time to get up and get back to the real world. My skin had become all wrinkly, and besides, I had a pizza waiting for me. I pulled on a pair of comfy sweatpants and hesitated only for a moment before I pulled on one of my own T-shirts instead of the one Henry had given me. My fingers trailed over the soft gray fabric. It had lost his scent a long time ago, but there were still some very small black smears from when I'd cried on it that refused to wash out. It reminded me of him and how he'd been there for me. I shook my head and dug a pair of socks out of my closet. Just as I was pulling them on, I heard the doorbell downstairs and knew the pizzas were here. I wound my still wet hair up in a messy bun and walked downstairs.

"We match," Hanna said with a grin, pointing down to my socks. I hadn't really been paying attention and only now realized they were two different ones, one being red and the other purple. Hanna's were mismatched as well, but hers were a dazzling mix of rainbows and warning signs. The one with the warning signs said 'I'm too sexy for my socks.' It made me laugh even despite my dark mood.

"Socks always go missing in this house, so it'd be a much bigger miracle if we both actually wore matching socks."

She snorted. "True enough. Anyway, here's your pizza."

I smiled, gratefully accepting the steaming box from her and plopping down on the couch. "Thank you."

"What do you want to watch?"

"I don't know. I don't care, just as long as it isn't directed by Vince Grieve. Maybe there's something good on Netflix."

We eventually settled on watching The Mummy as we ate our pizza. About halfway through, our pizzas were gone and Hanna made me pause the movie as she ran to the kitchen to grab the cookie dough ice cream and two spoons. "Nothing like a little therapy from our good friends Ben and Jerry," she said as she sat close to me so we could share.

"True that," I said, digging my spoon into my favorite form of dairy.

Before long, the movie was over and the tub of ice cream had been completely devoured. "Do you want to see the second one too?" Hanna asked.

I shook my head before resting it on her shoulder. "Nah. I'm too tired. I might fall asleep through half of it. Why don't we just surf the channels and see if anything interesting is on?"

"Sure." Hanna rested her head on top of mine and started flicking through the channels. She eventually perked up once she came across E! Entertainment. "Oh, hey! The Royals. Have you seen this before? It's a show with William Moseley—you know, that guy who played Peter in Narnia?—and he is fine."

"No, I haven't seen it. Is it any good?"

"Well, it gets a little dramatic at times, but otherwise it's a pretty good show. Though I do have to admit that the main reason I watch it is William."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You're so predictable."

"Hey, don't tell me you've never watched something absolutely terrible just because you thought the guy that played in it was cute."

Grinning, I said, "Guilty as charged."

We watched the show together in silence, and after only a few minutes of it, I realized I did quite like it. I could identify myself with Ophelia in certain scenes, especially when she felt inferior to Prince Liam. She was an American girl who wasn't used to living the luxurious life, where everything was documented and put it in the tabloids—and Liam was literally the future king of England. They were leagues apart, and I'd kind of felt that way with Henry too.

When the episode ended, E! News came on, and I groaned. I hated that show, mostly because the stories were always grossly exaggerated and the people hosting it always had an opinion at the ready—often one that wasn't all too positive about the celeb they were discussing. I always found myself wondering why they couldn't just leave those people alone, and yet I had to watch it whenever it was on. It made me feel like a terrible person and a huge hypocrite.

My heart nearly jumped into my throat, however, when none other than Henry popped up on the screen. "Oh my God," I squeaked.

"So, I hear we have some news on our favorite superhero, huh?" one of the hosts asked. "What's up with Henry Cavill these days?"

"Well, it seems like the British stud is off the market, again. A few months ago, Henry broke it off with his long term girlfriend and model, Alyssa Jeanes. Everyone thought they would be together forever—they were so cute together," the other host gushed. "Then he had a brief fling with Juliette Morrison, his costar on If You Love Someone, but it's starting to seem like that was just a quick rebound, because today, Henry was spotted out with Alyssa again." To my horror, pictures of them walking down the street filled the TV screen. She had her arm hooked around his as they laughed at something. He looked happy, but it was like I'd been punched in my gut and all the air had been knocked out of me. "They sure look like they're having a good time, huh?"

"They sure do," the first host agreed. "And let's be honest, if you could choose between a relatively unknown actress and a gorgeous Victoria's Secret model, who would you choose, am I right? So, sorry ladies, but Clark Kent definitely seems to be off the market. In other news, Chris Evans was out visiting..."

I drowned out the rest of her words. The sight of Henry and his ex-girlfriend (or current girlfriend?) wrapped around his arm was burned into my retina. And let's be honest, if you could choose between a relatively unknown actress and a gorgeous Victoria's Secret model, who would you choose, am I right? I felt sick. I couldn't breathe.

"Juliette?" Hanna asked carefully. "Are you okay?"

I stood up. "I'm sorry," I managed, my voice thick. "I think I need to be alone right now."

I made my way upstairs, closing the door behind me when I'd reached my room, and let myself fall down on my bed. I tried to breathe, but I couldn't remember how my lungs worked. I stood up again, pacing around my room as I desperately tried to get the air flowing in and out of my lungs. I opened the window, hoping it might help, but it didn't.

I didn't know how long I paced around my room until the door finally opened again. I whirled around, seeing Keegan standing in the doorway, a pained expression on his face. "Oh, baby," he breathed, and he marched over to me, wrapping me in his arms.

I took my first real breath, and as the oxygen finally made its way to my brain, the dam broke. The tears flowed freely and violent sobs made my entire body shake. Keegan held onto me tight—so tight I thought I might actually bruise—and I was so grateful for him being there.

"Keegs," I gasped, but before I could get anything else out, he interrupted me.

"Shh... I know, baby. I know. I'm so sorry." He kissed the top of my head before tucking it under his chin. I clutched at his shirt, needing my friend to offer all the comfort he could—and he did. He was so incredibly sweet as he held me. Keegan was often brash and sometimes even rude, always a quip at the ready (more often than not a sexual one), so it was easy to forget he was actually a very sweet person. He really was like a brother to me, teasing me whenever he could but always coming through for me whenever I needed him to.

He guided us to my bed, laying us down on it. He pulled me on top of his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around me, and let me cry for as long as I wanted. He didn't say anything, giving me the time I needed to cry it out. Neither of us had really ever been all that vocal about our emotions, and he knew better than to ask me how I was—mostly because the answer was obvious.

Eventually, very slowly, I felt myself calm down. My eyelids were heavy with sleep, making me wonder how late it was. "So," I started, my voice soft and croaky from crying, "what are you doing here? Did Hanna call you?"

"No," he said. "Riss was watching E! News at home, and I saw the thing about... well, you probably know. I just needed to make sure you were okay. Good thing I did."

"Oh, I feel bad now," I muttered. "I didn't want to interrupt your time with Klarissa."

"Don't feel bad, little sis. She understands. Actually, she wanted to know if you're okay, too. She nearly got in the car with me."

I laughed softly. "I have the best friends ever."

"Just as long as you don't forget that when you're a super famous actress," he joked.

"I'll never forget what you guys have done for me. Without you guys, I probably wouldn't..." I didn't dare to say the words aloud, feeling too ashamed of myself. I probably wouldn't be here right now.

He kissed the top of my head, pressing his lips to my hair so long and so hard I had the feeling he was trying to recollect himself. "But you do have us. And you're never getting rid of us. We're like your nine-headed ball and chain."

I smiled. "I'm pretty sure balls and chains don't have heads."

Keegan poked me in the side, making me squirm in his arms. "You know what I mean, Julie Bear. And look, I know you're not programmed that way—hell, neither am I—but if you ever need us, all you have to do is call. Even if all nine of us need to fly to the other side of the world to be there for you, we'll all do it in a heartbeat. And you know how much I hate flying."

I didn't know how to respond to that. I knew he was right, and maybe that was what was so hard to fathom; that someone could care so incredibly much about me. "I love you, Keegs."

"I love you, too, Julie. Now try and get some sleep. You're tired. I'll set your alarm for you."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Wednesday, September 17, 2019.

I was still feeling anxious, and I tried to brace myself as best I could as I sat in the makeup trailer. My eyes were still puffy from crying so much last night and the girl doing my makeup was doing her best to cover it up. I didn't know if any of it worked, but I hoped it did, otherwise Vince would surely notice and make a comment about it. And I just didn't know what I could take today. I knew anything could set me off when I was feeling like this, and even though I felt like I cried my entire body weight in tears last night, there was still plenty left where that came from.

Keegan had stayed over last night and Hanna had made waffles for breakfast for us all to try and cheer me up. They both tried so hard to get my mood up and to make me forget all about Henry getting back together with Alyssa, and it had worked for a little while, but as soon as I was out the door, everything came crashing down again. I sat in my car for five minutes before pulling out of my parking spot, just trying to pull myself together. Then when I'd reached set I'd needed another five minutes to force the panic down.

And now I was sitting here, still feeling panicky and queasy. I was beginning to regret eating those waffles, no matter how good they'd tasted. I felt like I could throw up at any given time, and I had a feeling that wouldn't really make my life on set any easier. If anything, it would give Vince more material to belittle me with.

My world froze when I was checking my Instagram feed. Henry had posted a picture of him and Alyssa smiling happily into the camera. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her chin resting on his shoulder, and his free hand rested on one of them, his other hand holding the camera.

@HenryCavill: Breakfast with @AlyssaDJeanes.

The pressure under my jaw increased, and I had to swallow quite a few times to force the bile back down. They were having breakfast together? That must mean that she'd spent the night. They really were back together. Henry had never had any real feelings for me. I really had just been a rebound, if at all.

I hate my life.

I'm so sorry, honey. I love you.

I smiled a little at Hanna's correct spelling and use of capitals—but only a little. She only used correct spelling in texts when the situation was utterly dire (which is how I always knew if something was wrong). And I guess my dark mood was dire enough for her.

Once my makeup was done, I had no other choice but to go to set and face Vince and his nasty, biting comments. But when I was almost there, my phone buzzed with a tweet from Hanna. I paused in the hallway to read it.

@hannamclynn: We love you, @JulesMorrison. CC: @KeegsBear @GingerRiss @ColinDraws @CynthiaTriggs @RyleysAfro @bullshaye @braedengoddard @AlfieAteABerry

There was a picture attached, and I couldn't help but smile when I opened it. It was a collage of selfies, one from each of my friends. Hanna, Keegan, Klarissa, Colin, Cynthia, Ryley, Shaye, Braeden and Alfie were all pulling silly faces at me, and my heart filled with love as I retweeted and favorited the tweet. They all loved and cared for me so much, and the feeling was entirely mutual.

Thinking I might actually get myself through this day—through this entire movie—I walked to set.

"You look like shit, Juliette," Vince said by way of greeting. "No wonder Henry Cavill chose that model over you. Think she can act? Then maybe I can choose her over you, too."

Or maybe not.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lyrics at the start of the chapter are More Like Me by The Veronicas.

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