becoming beatrice // t.h. ✔️

irl

     "that's a wrap for today. great job guys!" the director announced, and i sighed. another day of savannah and oliver staying in some crappy motel, trying to find samuel. sounds almost like supernatural.

     filming in washington is great, except for the fact that it constantly rains. i honestly don't think it's stopped raining since we started filming six months ago. the trailers are halfway across set so i make a run for mine, ducking my head and praying the rain would just go away. my trailer is already unlocked, so i climb in, kicking my shoes off by the door and throwing myself down on the small couch in front of me. my phone is laying on the coffee table, and i grab it to check if i have any messages.

     as soon as the screen flashes on, mine and haz's conversation from last night displays itself to me. friends. just friends. man, i messed up so bad. i should've taken more time to go see him—shouldn't have treated him the way i did. i scroll up through the previous messages, shaking my head at my stupidity. how could i do this to haz? he probably never wants to talk to me ever again. i wouldn't blame him.

     "don't cry bea. come on. pull yourself together," i mumble. tears begin slipping out of my eyes, dampening the pillow underneath my head as i think about how much i screwed up a good thing.

     the door to my trailer flies open and tom walks in, script in one hand and a tray of what looks like coffee in the other. i sit up quickly and try to hide my face in my hands. "go away, tom," i choke out.

     i hear him shuffling around before the couch dips beside me and someone is wrapping me in their arms. i collapse against tom, trying, in vain, to not cry. he whispers softly in my ear, stroking my hair and trying to calm me down. my arms are wrapped tightly around his chest, legs thrown over his lap as my tears dampen his shirt. i'm a complete wreck.

     "i'm s-sorry," i hiccuped, pulling away from tom. he looks at me, brushing hair out of my face, hand slipping down to cup my cheek.

     "don't be, love. what happened?" tom asks.

     "haz and i broke up last night. like, we agreed to be friends and all but i can't believe i messed up so bad," i explained, wiping tears off my cheeks.

     "you were too good for him anyways, bea," tom said gently. the hand that had been on my cheek was now holding my hand in his, thumb brushing over my palm.

     "more like he was too good for me," i sighed. "can we just go over the lines or something? i want to finish filming as soon as possible."

     for the rest of the night, tom and i went over lines together. he kept telling jokes and making goofy voices when reading, and eventually i was laughing loudly. finally, we managed to pull ourselves together and were to the scene where savannah and oliver find sam. it's packed with emotion—lots of crying and hugging. the writers had held off on giving us the final script, so no one had read it, and i'm almost glad we hadn't had it for longer.

     "well, then. i didn't see this coming," tom murmurs, eyes following the last few lines of the script.

     "should we practice?" i ask quietly. tom looks up at me, then down at my lips, and back up at my eyes.

     "not yet, bea. sometime, though."

     the rest of the reading was awkward, and i tried to hide my disappointment. tom left around midnight, waving at me from his trailer directly across from mine before closing the door. i sighed and fell back against my own door, running a hand through my hair. i needed to shower sometime, but i was honestly exhausted, so i stripped down to my underwear and climbed into bed, sleep overcoming me almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

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can we talk about how zendaya is on the cover of vogue!??!?!? i'm so proud of my girl