Behind The Scenes

Chapter 3: The fake scenes and the plastic-made dreams

"Are you out of your freaking mind, Crawford?" Alyssa shouted, with wide eyes. "I will never do that, do you hear me? Never!"

Matthew rolled his blue eyes theatrically and snorted. "Fuck! Can you stop screaming?" He asked, slamming the door behind him. "I cannot understand why you are so furious, America's sweetheart."

Aly ran her hands through her hair, about to throw a vase towards him. "How can you be so cynical, Crawford? You offer me a pact with the devil and stare at me, looking all-"

"Handsome?" He lightly offered, and the girl snorted, picking up her purse.

"Enough is enough. I can't even talk to you," the actress said, and Matt shook his head in impatience.

"Where the hell are you going?"

"It's none of your business."

He held the doorknob a second before her. "I still think you should let me finish..."

"Give me one good reason why I should put myself though this, Matthew."

Matt smirked. "I can give you as many reasons as you want, Alyssa," he replied, looking deep into her eyes with a mischievous smile on his lips. "And the first of them unfortunately must be: what choice do you have besides hearing me out?"

***

Alyssa took countless deep breaths, trying to keep in mind the yoga and meditation techniques that she was so familiar with, but it was funny how they weren't actually helping her at all when she needed them most. Her nails pattered against the table, unable to keep still, and all she wanted was simply to run; run far, far away from this place. She hated to admit it, but Matthew was right. What would she do when she walked out of that door, anyway?

She was completely confused, desperate and...pregnant, at age twenty-two: the prime of her life and career. Okay, she was not sixteen anymore. But that was freaking huge, especially for someone in her position.

And, to put the wonderful cherry on the top of that situation, she had let Matt convince her that they should have that conversation in private, without Shane. That would be a total mess; she could feel that while looking at the white wall of the dressing room, having no clue of how she was supposed to act.

When Crawford came back to the room, Aly almost jumped, making him arch his eyebrow.

"Your tea," he simply said, offering her a mug and sipping a bit of scotch - the girl had no idea how he had managed to find it there, but he was Matthew Crawford after all. He could always find a way to everything.

"Matthew, I don't have all night. Get straight to your point, please."

"You're the one who should talk first," he said, and, noticing the confused expression of his co-star, added. "How did that-" He made a pause, and then pointed to her stomach. "How did that happen?"

"What?" Alyssa laughed, uncomfortable. "The traditional way, Crawford."

Matthew chuckled. "You're not an idiot, and you know exactly what I'm asking," he teased. "But I must admit that your big news came to me as a shock. Until today, I thought you were...Pure." He giggled at Aly's expression. "I'd like to know what very important part I missed in this whole situation. I had big hopes for you, you know, Aly? I really thought you were a chastity role model and-"

"Shut your mouth, Crawford. What the hell?" She mumbled. "Is it so impossible for you to give me a break for two damn seconds?"

Matthew pretended to really consider that possibility, holding his chin. "Obviously, yes," he smirked. Aly made a face, but something told Matt that she would've laughed if they were in a different situation.