Off Script | Pedro Pascal

The Space Between

The cigarette was burning too fast.

Joanna leaned against the loading dock wall behind the wardrobe trailer, exhaling into the heavy late afternoon air, the sun pressing against her shoulders like a weight. The end of the cigarette glowed faintly as she drew in again, too sharply, too deeply. She coughed once and muttered a curse under her breath. 

She hated that she had started smoking again. But she hated more than she liked it.

The familiar burn, the rhythm, the excuse to stand still for five full minutes.

This morning had felt fine, even a little light.

Theo had texted her something stupid at 6:45 a.m.- a meme of a raccoon in a hoodie with the caption, "me on my way to pretend I know my lines." Shed laughed. Actually laughed. Then called him a menace and said she'd bring him coffee.

He met her at the gate with that lopsided grin and some ridiculous flirty joke about how he'd only come to set today to see her. She played along, rolled her eyes, and poked fun at his sneakers. It was easy. Fun.

And yet.

She hadn't gone more than an hour without thinking of Pedro.

He hadn't said much to her since Monday. Not after she and Theo had walked onto set holding hands like a couple of drunk teenagers. Not even after she helped the director's assistant pick out a jacket for the night shoot. Pedro had been polite. Professional. Borderline distant. 

And that-that sat under her skin like a splinter.

Why did it matter? Why should it matter?

She was having a perfectly acceptable flirtation with someone handsome and sweet, and genuinely interested in her. Theo didn't hover. He didn't prod. He didn't make her feel like she was standing on a trapdoor waiting to fall.

But Pedro... 

Pedro looked at her like he was memorizing things. Like he was choosing not to say something.

And that was worse than anything else.

"Hey." Genevieve's voice broke through her thoughts. "You gonna set the building on fire or just brood out here all right?"

Joanna flicked ash off the edge off the edge of the dock and glanced up. "Wouldn't be the worst thing if this place burned down. I'd finally get a break."

Genevieve snorted and hopped up onto the concrete next to her, peeling a clementine as she sat. "You mean you'd just start chain-smoking in front of the ashes."

"True."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the air sticky with unsaid things.

Then Genevieve nudged her with her elbow. "You okay?"

"Fine."

"Liar."

Joanna sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm tired."

"You're avoiding."  Genevieve offered her a slice of clementine. "You get weird every time Theo walks into a room."

"I do not," Joanna said pointedly.

"You do. You look like someone trying to decide if they want to kiss him or throw him out a window."

"I mean, ideally both," she shrugged. 

"Exactly."

Joanna took the fruit and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully. "I like him," she said after a while. "He's... nice. Funny. Predictable in a way that's actually kind of comforting."