Roses [h.s]

Chapter 13

Everyone is bustling around the hall, setting up lights and cameras, and placing tape on the floor, and cleaning, and rearranging, doing every little thing possible to make sure the room is ready for filming. I try and spot Ed, or the director, anybody who I know and will be able to point me to where I need to be, but there's so much going on and so many people around that I can't see them.

"Hi, you're Maddy right?" I look to my left at a woman with short, brown wavy hair, looking up at me from a clipboard. She has headphones hanging around her neck, connected to some sort of walkie talkie system that's clipped to her hip. I nod in reply and she smiles. "Okay cool, we've got to get you to wardrobe, they have some outfits picked out for you and then once you're done there we'll move onto hair and makeup, and then finally we'll start filming."

I nod and smile in reply, and then she motions for me to follow her. We weave through production, making for a door on the opposite side of the hall. It leads to a hallway where there are yet more people milling about and working. She leads me through one more door, and on the other side are two ladies, talking as they organise two racks of costumes, obviously one for me and one for Ed. The ladies smile at me when they see me, and usher me over to the rack that's filled with a variety of white dresses.

"Hi love, we're just going to try on a few different outfits and see what we like the best." One of them says, and I glance at the rack, immediately noticing the few dresses with longer sleeves, and hoping that we decide on one of those. I nod, uncomfortably pulling at the sleeves of my sweater. I don't want to seem demanding by asking if we can use the long sleeve costumes, but I also know how uncomfortable and awkward I'll feel otherwise. So, I just stand quietly as they look through the rack, glancing back at me every now and then as they try and decide, mentally crossing my fingers and hoping they pick something I'll feel comfortable in.

"How about this?" One of them asks, holding out a white lace costume, with a flowing skirt that would reach just past my knees, and more importantly, sleeveless. I force a smile onto my face, and take it from them, moving slightly to the side to change into it. It takes me a minute, and the ladies, help me zip it up in the back, before asking me to turn around and show them. I can't help but hold my arms behind my back and smile awkwardly as they look me over. "How do you feel?"

"Uh, yeah, not bad." I say, not wanting to say anything bad and put them out, instead just hoping and praying that they'll find something about it that they don't like. There's more silence as they ask me to turn and I twirl round slowly. I watch them as they continue to ponder over the dress, and when they finally come to a decision and suggest trying on one of the long sleeve costumes, I let out the breath that I'd been holding. They pull out another lace costume, this one backless, with long sleeves and a flowing skirt with an uneven hemline.

The ladies chat as I change into the next outfit, and turning around I immediately feel more comfortable, trying to stop myself from beaming widely. Again, the two ladies give me a once over and ask me to do a twirl, which I do so with a lot more enthusiasm. This costume is it, I feel comfortable in it, almost beautiful really. The sleeves, the lace and even the way the skirt spins and floats as I twirl around, it's all I could ever want in a costume.

Maybe the ladies can tell that I really want this to be the outfit, or maybe it really does look as good as I think, either way they both agree that this is the one. I can't stop myself from smiling when they decided on using this for the shoot, and then they usher me off in the direction of hair and makeup.

The ladies there don't do anything extravagant, just add a few curls and style my hair in an effortless manner, and then a basic face of makeup that makes my skin look enviously flawless. When they're done, I'm taken back into the first hall, where by now everything is almost set up. I see Ed in the middle of everything, with yet another make-up lady making sure that his hair and face look good in the lighting.

"Hey." I say, walking up to him with a smile.

"Hey Maddy. How are you feeling?"

"Uh yeah, okay. Nervous, but ready." Ed smiles, and I can tell that he feels the same. For somebody with absolutely no training though, he really has nothing to be nervous about. He has the choreography down, he performs it well, and he hasn't dropped me once in the past few times we'd rehearsed. Even so, I ask if he wants to go over the dance a few times before we start filming and he agrees.

We mark the routine a few times, practicing the lifts a little and just making sure that we remember everything and are both on the same page. It's not long before the director comes up to us and points out marks on the floor and instructs us on how everything is going to run today. And then we start filming. The first time is slightly awkward, we're too aware of the cameras and how close they are, and too worried about making a mistake, but once we understand what's going on, we go through it without any qualms. I know the steps like the back of my hand, I don't think of them at all, I just try and focus on the emotions, on the story telling. I imagine falling for someone and spending my life with them, of laughing with them, making memories with them, being held by them, of kissing Harry. I almost gasp aloud when I think of him, balancing on my toes in the middle of the choreo, all of a sudden feeling breathless and like I'm about to topple over.

Harry. The whole time that we're filming, I'm trying to battle the thought of Harry out of my mind, hoping that I don't seem preoccupied. When there's lifts and jumps, or more technical parts, there's no room to think of him but as soon as there's a break, as soon as the word cut is yelled, he's the first thing I think of. Why am I thinking of Harry? Yes, I love him, he's my best friend, but I don't love him, do I? Yet while I listen to the words of the song for the hundredth time, his is the only face that comes to mind.

It feels like forever when the director finally says cut for the last time and tells us that it looks like they've got everything. I smile and clap like everyone else, but I still am only thinking of Harry. As I change back into my clothes and say goodbye to everyone and thank Ed for everything, I'm still just thinking about him. Trying to figure out if it's just the case of a little crush from spending too much time together or if it's something more, something deeper. Either way, it doesn't matter. I can't ever tell him. Not just because I risk ruining the good thing that's happening, or because I don't trust him after everything that's happened. But because if there's any chance, no matter how small, that my feelings are reciprocated than I'll just feel like I've tricked him into liking the person that I'm pretending to be.

I haven't been honest with him; I think on my way home in the fading daylight. I haven't been properly honest with anyone since I came back. So, the idea that maybe I do like Harry, and the possibility that maybe he could like me back, terrifies me, because if there is anything there then it's all built on lies. In the end though it doesn't matter, this is all hypotheticals, I'm probably just overthinking things. Even though the same thoughts have been running through my head for almost a week now.

I manage to convince myself that I'm being delusional, that these feelings mean nothing, the whole way home. When I reach my door, I'm of the firm belief that this will pass, that it's nothing serious. My convictions hold strong as I pick up the package placed neatly on the front doorstep and bring it inside. It's just a side effect of proximity, and if not there's no chance of reciprocation. I won't have to worry about secrets coming to life. I tug at my sleeves, closing the door behind me and then looking over the package to see that it's addressed to me. As I walk into my room and set the package on my bed, opening it unassumingly, I am convinced. That is until I see the singular card, with my name addressed on it in scratchy cursive that I immediately recognise. Until I pick the card up and flip it over seeing a simple message, "One of the two things you asked for.", signed with his name and an x. And when I pull out the dress, long sleeves but extravagant, my heart beats fast, I blush and I curse, because I can no longer convince myself that I don't love Harry.