Can't Turn Back Now, I'm Haunted (A Ben Willbond Rom Com)

Chapter One | Called to Set

"Sorry everyone, we're still dealing with a tech issue, but Simon thinks we're gonna get started in about forty-five, so go and relax and stay out of the rain please!" She pointed a warning finger at Larry. "That means you, Robin." 

"What?" He said dryly. "You don't want all this to wash off so that I have to spend six more hours in the makeup chair?"

We laughed and everybody dispersed. I looked at Martha.

"Is there, by any chance, coffee?"

She laughed and pointed to the sea of trailers next to the tent. 

"There's a cart a couple trailers down," she said. "Could you grab me one? Milk and sugar? I'm just going to make a quick phone call."

"Of course!"

I grabbed another little plaid umbrella -- I guess they were standard on set -- and ventured into the soft, gentle rainfall.

"Two coffees, please," I asked, looking up at the man in the cart. "One with milk and sugar, one black."

"Do Americans have a special resistance for caffeine poisoning then?" Asked a soft, amused voice behind me. 

I wheeled around in shock, smacking the speaker directly in the face with my umbrella. His head snapped back with a loud "OOF!"

"Oh my god!" I clapped my hands to my mouth. "I'm so sorry!"

"Jesus!" He breathed, rubbing his eye. It was missing Ghost, Ben Willbond, himself. He was in his Captain regalia, holding a black umbrella -- I guess he brought that from home, I thought to myself.

"I'm so, so sorry," I repeated, peering into his face. "Are you alright? Did I poke your eye out?"

"No, no," he chuckled, recovering. "I'm alright, I just usually schedule my eye-skewering for after seven a.m."

I laughed, apologetically. 

"'Ere you are, love," said the man in the cart. I hurriedly handed him a couple pound coins and took the steaming coffees from him, balancing the umbrella on my shoulder.

"Thank you," I said to him, and turned back around to face Ben. He had recovered and was looking at me with amusement and curiosity. "Please can I buy you a coffee to apologize?"

"No need." He held up a hand and gave me a deferring smile. His voice was gentle -- the kind of voice that didn't command with volume, but by an underlying current of intelligence and good humor. "By the rules of hospitality, I should've gotten those for you."

"Actually, this one's for Martha." I held up the one that smelled the sweetest. "I'm trying to buy her love."

"Ah! That works. She's only my friend because I supply her with beverages."

"Typical." I nodded, jokingly. We chuckled together, eyes locked. I noticed a glint in them -- something warm and clever and inviting... or maybe he just had nice eyes. Either way, our laughter faded and we shared an awkward but pleasant moment of eye contact. 

"Ben," he said, extending a hand. I looked at the two coffees in my hands, and he chuckled. "Sorry."

"I'm shaking your hand mentally," I assured. "Maggie, nice to meet you. I love your show, I love your work."

"I could say the same to you! You were brilliant in that film, that roller derby dramedy..."

"Speedster??" I asked, incredulously. "NO one saw that!"

"I did," he shrugged. "You were brilliant. When I heard you were coming on to play this part I knew it was going to be good."

"Sorry," the coffee man's voice pierced our conversation. "But there's a queue forming, Mr. Willbond."

Ben looked behind him -- there were indeed several people standing impatiently.

"SORRY!" He stepped forward, cringing. He cast a quick apology to the people behind him, then one to me.

Apologetic bunch, these Brits, I thought to myself -- but I couldn't deny, it was sweet.

"I should get this back to Martha," I said after he placed his order.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Ben said, putting his hand in his pocket. "Lovely to meet you, Maggie."

"You too," I said, smiling.

As I made my way back to the tent -- with difficulty as my umbrella battled with the tenuous balancing act it was performing on my shoulder -- I pondered. I had always loved Ben Willbond's performances, but something about meeting him in person felt different somehow -- I had felt the tiniest frisson of a spark crackle in my chest. Oh great, I thought to myself. Excellent idea -- get a stupid crush on the writer of the show with whom you have zero chance after nearly blinding him. I resolved to put the flutters aside, and be professional. After all, I was only here for two episodes -- how could anything happen in only two weeks?