Applehead Fever

24 - a spoonful of snake

Wavy inky hair dangled over smooth skin. A sharp jawline protruding among other sharp features set into his face. Pointed nose, twisting lips, and devouring eyes a mixture of grey and brown all angled my way. Narrowed in that tantalizing fashion I used to be drawn to like a moth to a light.

He was here, standing not more than ten feet away from me. And he was my choreographer.

The tormented grimace on my face could not be eluded; I was wading through a torrent of emotions. Ranging from longing to execration. This man was responsible for a great deal of pain in my life. He hurt me like no one had ever before.

Yet, here he was. Smiling at me as though he hadn't wrenched a dagger in my heart. As though I was going to jump in his arms any minute now.

"He's kind of cute."

The faraway voice slowly reeled me back into my dastardly reality, numbness quick to slather my body. It had been Jasmine who uttered the quiet compliment, impervious to my mood shift. She helped me to realize I was melting in front of a room of people, and I stitched my crumbling wall back together.

It's just for a few hours. It'll go by in a flash. My head voice coaxed as I finally ripped my eyes from Nicholas's gaze. Just ignore him.

It was relatively easy to do when we finally delved into the work. He demonstrated the moves we would be completing throughout the commercial. Easy excitable little moves. The idea of the commercial was to bring a positive feeling towards the cars. Get people to see it's perks from our calculated wiggling around it.

Maybe even bring in more views with someone associated with Michael Jackson. He'd proven he was a force to be reckoned with when it came to getting people's attention.

He was also worryingly good at occupying my mind. Australia had him now, but he should be coming back to America rather soon. The fact of his return lit another light in my head, leading me further and further into my thoughts. I still needed to get tickets for his concerts in America, and soon. Who knows how many people already secured their spot on the floor of some stadium. If I didn't get one for myself soon, I'd be at the very back.

My thoughts wrapped me in a repelling haze, and I didn't notice the boiling unrest on set until Jasmine nudged me. The director was arguing rather loudly with his stylist. Pretty quickly I figured out they were fighting over the costume on me; James was insisting it needed to be changed and Roberto retorted that it was perfect.

James waved his arm at the cameramen, telling us to do our routine another time whilst the camera shifted between me and the other girls. Once we'd finished, James and Roberto went at it again. This time James had visual evidence of his point, therefore winning over Roberto and demanding a costume change.

A fuming Roberto stomped past me and I glided out of his way, afraid to set him off like a trip wire. I tossed a wide-eyed look at Jasmine who was doing her best to mask amused giggles.

The costume I was shoved into was similar to the one I'd just had on, though it was a different color and one of the sleeves was cut short to my shoulder.

We managed to get through the first part of the commercial again without any complaints. Then, just as we rehearsed the dance segment for the next part, Roberto snapped at James.

"Look, the costume does not look good! She does not fit in, we need a better one!" He hissed, wielding his pointed finger between me and James like a weapon.

The director didn't bother putting up as big of a fight this time. Everyone on set probably already thought him unprofessional for his first tussle. They certainly kept gaping at me like I was some sort of zoo animal. And all of this was adding onto that remaining crankiness to my morning.