Trev chuckled at that and ate a few bites of his food. I watched as he chewed and swallowed, fascinated by the way his throat moved. He set his fork down and focused his attention on me again.
“Anyway, I just wanted to ask about the whole consistency thing because it’s something I’ve been working on. I’m trying to be more balanced in my behaviour,” he said, looking almost shy. My heart reacted with frantic thudding. I could tell this was important to him.
I took his hand again. “Like I said back at the bridge, you don’t need to change who you are for me, or anyone else for that matter. You should only ever change for you. I want you to enjoy each day. And whatever that consists of, whatever helps you be happy, that’s what I want for you. So please, don’t feel like you have to constantly watch what you say and do. I’d hate that. I’m not going to be offended if you have an off day or feel down or whatever. Just . . . you know, take care of yourself first and everyone else second.”
He squeezed my hand, and as I studied him I was stunned to see his eyes turn glassy. My pulse thrummed but I didn’t comment on it, because I knew men were weird about showing emotion.
Still, from his reaction I could tell my words had a profound effect on him. He needed to hear them. And maybe I needed to say them. It felt like a weight had been lifted, and as we finished up our meal I sensed a new atmosphere form between us, one of mutual understanding. Mutual respect.
The next day was our final day in Paris. The plan was for the group to shoot in at least three different locations in each city, so they’d have enough footage for fifteen episodes in the end—fifteen stunts. Today was probably the most ambitious yet. We were at a large complex with a highly modern architectural design called the Pompidou Centre. Neil told me there was a museum and a library inside, but the filming would be outside.
From the front, it looked like a giant metal rectangle, with criss-crossing scaffolding and different coloured tubing running through it. Slantways down the centre was a zigzag-shaped stairway, enclosed in glass so you could see the people on the escalators inside. The plan was for the group to start at the top of the glass enclosure and freerun to the bottom, while visitors to the centre continued about their business inside.
After assisting Neil to cordon off some of the areas for the film crew, I took a little wander around some of the exhibitions. When I was making my way back out, I spotted Callum and Leanne standing close to one of the exits. They seemed to be having some sort of intense discussion, and weirdly, Leanne appeared to be trying to calm Callum down. He was worked up and upset over something, his shoulders slumped as he raked a hand through his hair.
I approached them and asked tentatively, “Is everything okay?”
Leanne glanced up, surprised to see me, and plastered on a fake smile. “Hi, Reya. Yeah, everything’s fine. This place is amazing, isn’t it?” she said. It was said in an effort to distract me. Callum looked off to the side, not acknowledging my presence, but I couldn’t tell if it was out of rudeness or embarrassment. I’d definitely caught them both off guard. Plus, it just seemed weird that Callum was the one upset while Leanne tried to console him.
I continued outside and spotted the crew filming Trev as he climbed to the top of a ten-foot-high box next to two giant extractor vents opposite the centre. The vents rose out of the ground like the monster sticking its head out of Loch Ness. A gang of passers-by stopped to watch, some recording on their smartphones. I admired his athletic form as he braced himself, bent into a half crouch, then vaulted to the ground.
Unlike yesterday, his landing was measured and effortless, and the gathered crowd started to clap and cheer. He grinned at his audience, his eyes alight with adrenaline, and did a funny curtsey. Several teenage girls giggled and whispered to one another, which was the typical Trev effect. He had a way of rendering the opposite sex—and certain members of the same sex—into swooning groupies with so much as a suave little smile.
Neil handed him a bottle of water and he twisted the cap off before swallowing a long gulp. Barry was off to the side, talking with a crewman, his expression somewhat sour. I guessed he and Trev still hadn’t kissed and made up.
Trev’s attention fell on me as I approached. “Hey. That was amazing,” I gushed. After last night’s meal, there was a newfound comfort between us. I felt like we understood each other better and I didn’t have to be on my guard all the time.
His mouth formed a smirk as he winked. “I aim to please.”
I stepped up beside him and lowered my voice. “This might be nothing, but I just saw Leanne and Callum over in the centre and Callum looked upset. Did something happen?”
Trev swallowed another mouthful of water, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Nah, nothing happened. Just let them work it out between themselves.”
“Okay,” I said, sensing there was something else at play, but of course it was none of my business.
“I like this top,” said Trev, grinning and reaching out to finger the fringing at the hem of my T-shirt. “Very funky.”
“Thanks. I’ll get you one for Christmas.”
“I have been told that tassels bring out the colour of my eyes.”
“Well, duh.” I laughed.
“Trevor, when you’re done flirting I need you over here,” Barry called grumpily.
I raised my brows and spoke quietly. “Are you two still on the outs?”
Trev blew out a breath. “I shouldn’t have taken that jump. Besides, I’m pretty sure his bald patch is a direct result of our insurance premiums.”
A frown marked my brow. “Yeah, I get that, but he shouldn’t have spoken to you like he did.”
“Don’t worry. I’m made of sterner stuff than what you think, Reyrey,” he said, and gave his chest a hard thump before he went to Barry.
I put in the lunch order while the group prepared to film the main stunt. Spotting Callum go by, I thought he still looked a little agitated but not as upset as before.
Small black figures dotted the roof. A number of the crew were in place, while others were situated on the ground to capture shots from both angles. The group gathered at the top of the transparent glass tube, curious heads of the public glancing up and wondering what was going on. I pinpointed Trev in his beige camo shorts and black T-shirt, dark protective bands on his elbows and wrists. His hands were probably still sore from yesterday, but he didn’t show any outward signs of discomfort.