Hours later, Rylin was neck-deep in that impossible closet when she realized with a start that the set had grown quiet. It was later than she’d realized; when had everyone else gone home? She grabbed her suitcase, which was still tucked into a corner, and started toward the doorway, thinking she would head back to her assigned room at the crew hotel.
It had been a long day, filled with grunt work for Seagren: organizing that damn closet and picking up lunch from the craft cart and hunting down missing actors in the various break rooms. But Rylin hadn’t minded it all, especially not hanging out with the actors. She loved watching them, helping them go over their lines, asking them questions about the filming. She’d realized quickly that the actors were the most talkative of anyone, at least once you got them talking about themselves.
A light was still on in one of the edit bays. Rylin hesitated, curious, then walked over to knock boldly at the door.
“What do you want?” came Xiayne’s irritated voice.
“Never mind,” Rylin said quickly, stepping back. “I’ll just—”
“Rylin? Is that you?” The door swung open and Xiayne stood there, looking more agitated than Rylin had ever seen him. He was barefoot, and his hair was sticking out wildly every which way. There was a ketchup stain on his T-shirt, which had frozen on the word yesterday.
“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else. I didn’t mean to snap like that.” He kept reaching up to push back his hair, which fell forward over his eyes.
“Is everything okay?” Rylin asked, and Xiayne sighed.
“Not really. I’m just reviewing the dailies, and to be honest …” He gave an embarrassed shrug. “They suck.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Xiayne seemed surprised by her offer. “Sure. Come check them out. You’ll see what I mean,” he warned. When she’d pulled up the chair next to him, he flicked his wrist, and the footage resumed playing.
They watched for a while in silence. The footage wasn’t all that bad, Rylin decided, though it wasn’t as good as Xiayne’s other films. She tried to focus on certain scenes and images, reminding herself that this was just the raw material, not the finished product. She kept stealing glances at Xiayne’s profile. His eyes gleamed in the dimness; the flickering light of the holo picking out his strong nose, his firm jaw. Occasionally his lips moved as he murmured lines of dialogue alongside the actors.
“Okay, look at the prime minister here,” Xiayne said abruptly. “She should seem more important—she’s about to denounce the queen in the next scene. But she just disappears in this shot. It’s that stupid navy suit we dressed her in.” He lifted a hand to his chin, his eyes narrowed. “I kept upping the lighting, but that navy suit absorbs photons like a black hole. It has no texture. I’d reshoot it, but we only have her for two more days, and I still need to get through act three …”
Rylin stood up and walked a slow circle around the room. “What about the queen’s gown?” she asked after a moment. “After she walks in, it throws off a lot of light.”
Xiayne went silent. For a moment Rylin feared she’d overstepped her bounds, but then he twirled his finger, skipping forward to the queen’s grand entrance in her elaborate court gown.
Rylin watched his face as he watched the scene. When he saw what she meant, his eyes lit up with an almost fanatical fervor. “You’re right,” he said wonderingly. “That skirt casts light like a mirror. Look how it brightens the prime minister’s face and hands.”
“Can you use it?” Rylin pressed.
“I’ll grab a few of these stills, track all the beams around the PM and then copy them into the earlier shots. It’ll be a bitch to do, but yeah, it’ll work.” Xiayne stood up and stretched his arms overhead, then took a sudden step toward her. “Rylin, that was a fantastic idea. Thank you.”
For a panicked moment, Rylin thought he was about to kiss her. Her stomach constricted in a wild, fluttering nervousness—because he was her teacher and she knew it was wrong, and yet some tiny part of her wanted him to.
“I knew you were a natural.” Xiayne grinned, then reached for his tablet from the counter behind her and returned to his seat. “I’m ordering coffee. Want anything?”
Rylin blinked, startled. “No, thanks,” she stammered, to hide her relief. Being around all these self-centered actors was clearly messing with her head.
“You should get one. We’re going to be here half the night fixing this. Unless you don’t want to stay,” Xiayne quickly backtracked. “You’ve already worked way more than union hours. But if you don’t mind, I could use the help.”
“Of course I’m staying,” Rylin said firmly, and sat up straighter. “And actually, yeah, a coffee would be great.”
“Awesome.” Xiayne clicked on the tablet a few times to place their orders, then smiled at Rylin as the footage began again.
AVERY
AVERY WAS TAPPING her stylus on her tablet, frowning down at a physics problem, when a knock sounded at her door. For a glorious, terrible instant she thought it might be Atlas, before she remembered that they weren’t speaking, and besides, Atlas’s knock had always been louder and more self-assured.
“Yeah?” She turned around, one leg crossed over the other in her chair.
Her mom paused in the doorway. She was wearing a red-and-black day dress with tights and a cropped black jacket. “I just wanted to make sure you knew about dinner,” she said, smiling. “Sarah is cooking short ribs.”
Avery’s eyes widened. “What are we celebrating? Did Dad already figure out his next project?” Genuine short ribs—the kind that weren’t grown in labs—were hard to come by and, even for the Fullers, implied a special occasion. Usually a new real estate acquisition.
“Atlas is officially taking the Dubai job! He and your father negotiated all the details,” Elizabeth exclaimed. She gave a little laugh, as if the idea of Atlas negotiating his salary with his own father was too amusing. So, Avery thought, that explained why both her parents’ spirits had visibly lifted these past few days.
She’d known this was coming, yet the news still stung her, more than it should. “I wish I could,” she said immediately, “but it’s actually Risha’s birthday, and we’re all going out to dinner.” No way was she staying here with her parents and Atlas, pretending to toast to the news that threatened to shatter her already-broken heart into even smaller pieces.
“Really? Do you have to?” Elizabeth pressed, but Avery held firm.