Dedicated to @Cheyanne_2020 for the cover at the top, thank youuu <3
Chapter Eleven: "I Can Barely Handle One Caleb."
"THANKS," I GRABBED THE script out of Caleb's hand, a frown on my face. "Bye now."
"Why are you mad at me?" There was a teasing smile on his face that made the frown on my own deepen. He was joking, but I wasn't. I wasn't in the mood to tolerate a stupid question he evidentially knew the answer to.
But is this guy okay? He thinks he can be rude to me and expect me to give him the time of day? I thought after our little argument that it was implied that we didn't have to ever interact with each other ever again.
I started making my way towards the stairs, forgetting about the water I was initially coming down to get. "Get out," I mumbled.
"Octavia." He heard him say behind me.
"Get out," I said a little louder.
"Octavia." He also said a little louder, clearly understanding that I wasn't going to budge and succumb to him like others probably have.
"Jesus Christ," I stalked up the stairs. "Angie, I'll be in my room memorizing and revising and trying to do my job."
"Bye, honey." I heard Angie said cautiously and I could imagine her facial expression filled with confusion at the conversation between me and Caleb.
"Octavia." I turned around for a second, giving Caleb my best smile and my middle finger to accompany it. He didn't budge, instead, he looked amused by my antics, making me drop my arm down and wipe the smile from my face.
Looking at him now, at the amusement riddled on his face left a blank look on my own. I wish I was able to forget something so easily, put it behind me and forget it even happened. But no, I wasn't like that. I wasn't that type of person.
The way Caleb was looking at me now was how he had looked at me when we first met. Like I was something he was trying to figure out and thinks he already did. But that was the problem. I didn't know him. He didn't know me. There's no way I was going to pretend that we were suddenly on good terms. I don't hold grudges and I knew I would get over it eventually but right now his face wasn't something I wanted to look at.
"Goodbye to your friend," I said, continuing to make my way to my room.
"You know my name," Caleb called out.
"I wish I didn't," I yelled back, making sure to slam the door shut behind me.
I sucked in a deep breath, exhaling through my mouth as I leaned back against my door. "Caleb Romero Henderson," I said his name out loud, pushing off the door and standing in front of my full body mirror.
He had a nice name. With that name, the world knew who he was. Famous writer. Famous face. Famous books. Famous writer of shows. Famous writer of the movie that I was now in. Famous writer who just has to stick around on set. Famous writer who just has to try and tell me how to do my job.
But a part of me that wasn't being annoyed by him, remembered what Sydney had told me. That we could have had a civilized conversation. That it didn't have to be us snapping at each other.
I sighed when I realized I'm going to end up talking to Caleb Romero Henderson whether I wanted to or not. And judging by how close he and Angie were on the couch, I wasn't going to be left with any options.
Looked at myself closely, I tried to see if my edges were laid down properly. Struck by the sudden need to check if I had any edge control left, I headed to my bathroom to check.
When I had come out of my bathroom moments later, there was someone sitting on my bed.
No, there was someone lying on my bed.
"What the hell? Caleb?" I spoke way too soon about seeing him sooner rather than later.
I almost cursed whoever it was that kept putting Caleb and me in the same damn room.
"Hi." He sat up, his long legs going over the edge of my bed. I spotted an open notebook beside his head and a pen behind his right ear. "You should get a trampoline."
"To break my head open?" I rhetorically asked, and he then decided to put one foot over the other and his arm behind his head.
"It's a cool idea, c'mon," He removed his gaze from the ceiling to look at me. "A trampoline in a room?"
"Concussions in a room?" I said sarcastically, crossing my arms. "Why are you in here?"
"I was waiting for you."
"Waiting for me to do what?"
He sat up, leaning back on his hands as he tilted his head at me. "What's happening?" He asked, picking up the notebook and taking the pen from behind his ear.
I narrowed my eyes at him. I've never met such a confusing person in my entire life. "What do you mean what's happening? You're the one in my room."
"And you're the one yelling at me." He practically sang, scribbling something down in his book.
"I'm not yelling at you." I knew I wasn't and the smile on his face let me know he was trying to tease me again. There's a big difference between trying to tease me and trying to aggravate me.
"Excuse me then," He cleared his throat and pointed his index finger up as he looked at me. "Raising your voice at me."
"Caleb," I locked my hands, gesturing to my bedroom door with both my index fingers. "Get out of my room."
I rarely let anyone in here as it was when people were over. Giulio himself has never been in my room wherever I lived whenever we were together. It would make sense why I would not be a big fan of Caleb in not just my room but lying on my bed like it was his own.
But Caleb obviously was not going to listen to me. He glanced at me, looking as if he was holding a breath. He put the notebook beside him and wiggled in the pen between two fingers. "I was looking through your script earlier."
"Caleb, get out," I repeated. At that sentence that just came out of his mouth, it sounded as if he was trying to criticize me. Again. I wasn't in the mood for another Octavia and Caleb fight. One was enough.
"And you highlight most of the italicized scenes, how to will your emotions. A lot of the sticky notes were mostly based on how to will your emotion at the correct times."
That was what was in my script. That was all I had highlighted. I never ever changed anything that was in a script unless I was in the scene. Unless I was in the moment of filming. Because if your character is about to say something that doesn't sound right to you, it's most likely not going to sound right to the people who are watching it.
"Get out," I repeated in almost defeat because he clearly wasn't going to go unless I listened to what he had to say. Until I listened to the reason he came in here.
"You never really added a change unless they were really small. Or almost insignificant that I could only ever see the difference if you're acting. So, I have an offer."
I held my locked hands to my mouth, still looking down at him on my bed. On my bed. "Caleb, get out." I tried one last time, but he didn't budge.
"I want you to help me with my story."
"What?" That's not at all what I was expecting to come out of his mouth. But then again, what I've learned is that with him? Expect the unexpected.
"I feel like you could help me out with what I have." He gestured to his notebook and looking at I looked at the pages he flipped through, filled with writing on any empty space. Half the notebook was filled. I had a feeling that half of it was only the ideas he had. For one story. Jesus.
I blinked at him because at that moment I was an idiot who couldn't process things when they were told to me. "Again, what?"
"I'm not joking."
"I didn't think you were but what the hell could I do?"
"Just give me advice. Simple."
"Why?" Why me of all people?
"Because I'm a little stuck," He almost struggled to say that sentence. It was almost as if he was eating something sour. I got the feeling that he's never been in this type of situation before. "I've been having writer's block for months now."
"What's the issue?" I questioned him.
"I have a solid foundation for it. It's envisioned and everything, but I think there should be more. And for some reason, I feel like you could help me out."
"Help you out," I repeated.
"Yeah."
I continued to stare at Caleb and pondered over this in my head. "What if there's something in there that I think is stupid and we fight or something?" Again.
Caleb stopped wiggling the pen, leaning back on both hands. "Advice Octavia. Advice."
"I know what advice means," I rolled my eyes. "But what if said advice is to change something? Or call bullshit on an idea? Are you going to fight me on it?"
This mischievous twinkle appeared in Caleb's eyes as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Why do I have a feeling you like fighting with me anyways?"
I don't like fighting with you. However, you being angry in general is one of the most attractive things I have ever seen but not when I'm the target of your irritation. He could argue with something else, though. I'd watch that.
I crossed my arms, considering this but my mind wasn't letting what happened earlier go. "I want an apology first."
Caleb blinked in confusion. "What?"
"An apology," I said slowly to him. He knew what I was talking about, he can't act as if I was claiming nonsense.
"For what?"
"For being a brat." More like a dick but brat was sugarcoating it.
He scoffed, putting his hands up in defense. "I wasn't being a brat."
I walked over to my dresser, grabbing my strap bag and my phone. "Caleb, this is your first movie, right?" I asked in a quiet voice.
"Yes." He answered when I walked back over to him, putting the sling of my bag on my shoulder.
"First time you've written a script for a movie. Even though you wrote it with other people such as AJ and aiding screenwriters and ideas were thrown, it's still your story, right?"
"Yes." He said cautiously, obviously wondering where I'm going with this.
"The biggest mistake you're making right now is staying on set after selling your story off," I told him. "Biggest. You hold onto whatever emotion you have to that movie and soon you're not just going to be mad at me for changing something so tiny, you're going to be angry at every actor, at every extra, and soon at AJ. Change your mindset for productions especially if you, as the writer, are going to be the one witnessing it all. I'm not demanding you to do that but for the sake of the movie itself, you're going to have to."
Caleb held my gaze at the end of that and when I couldn't bear it any longer, I opened my purse looking for my lip gloss to distract myself. "Don't leave the set, though."
"Why do you say that?" He asked, his tone almost as quiet as mine as I pulled my lip gloss out of my bag. Quiet as our voices may be, I didn't have to strain to listen to him.
I shrugged. "Because you bring good energy. People like you. People like seeing the Caleb Romero Henderson," I emphasized his name and that got him to let out a little laugh, making me smile and shake my head. "They like seeing you around them, in an environment. Makes people in a better mood."
"Do you get in a better mood?" There was a teasing smile on his face again.
"You could be the coolest person on Earth, there's no way in hell I'd get in a better mood during the day." I said honestly, and he grinned.
I grabbed my compact mirror to look at myself apply lip gloss before I continued speaking, "And I see what you mean by giving AJ advice. You're practically co-director at this point but it's still his movie, don't forget that. So, take a step back from what you've written and watch it come to life. Plus, the best scenes are usually the improvised ones. It may not go how you wanted it to be at first, but I think you'll love how it'll look like in the end."
Caleb opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but fought against it. I watched his eyes shift to gaze at the carpet before looking up at me and saying, "I'm sorry. I was being an idiot."
I nodded, holding onto the strap of my bag with my hand. "I'm sorry too."
His eyebrows rose high. "Wait, what?"
The number of times we've both said 'wait what' made it seem like we both just don't know what to expect from each other's mouths. But by the look on his face, the very exaggerated look on his face, he wasn't expecting me to say anything remotely relating to an apology.
"I said I'm sorry too."
"Yeah, I heard what you said but why?"
I sat down next to him, crossing my legs. "Because I keep forgetting that this is your first movie. That you're getting the chance to see how your, uh, what did you say before? Was it, vision?"
Caleb shot me a closed-mouth smile. "Yeah, vision."
"You're getting the chance to see your vision come to life at first hand. You get to see everything behind the scenes, everything that's going on before you see it on the movie screen as the rest of the world. When I told you that seeing a screenwriter onset is rare, I meant it. It's not just your first movie ever but you're always on set whenever the action happens. I didn't take in how much changes to your script are going to affect you before doing so. I don't know. I should have run it by you considering the circumstances."
"Maybe," Caleb did this thing where he puffed air into one cheek and moved it back and forth. I didn't even question what the hell he was doing. At this point, it was better off not to question anything he did, to be honest. But I knew he was thinking deeply. "If you want to change something just give me a warning. I'm not used to someone changing things."
I can tell.
"And we can have a civilized conversation about it," I stressed the word civilized and Caleb's lips perked up in a sheepish grin.
"Sorry."
"You already apologized." I reminded him, feeling my phone buzz in my hand. I got up, glancing down at it to see my agent had texted me that she was here.
Caleb bit his bottom lip, running a hand over his face and that's when I saw the sincere apology on his face. I could imagine him playing the event back in his head. "I didn't handle that conversation properly."
"Neither did I. It's okay," I looked down, inspecting my clean shoes and I could almost feel Caleb tense up as he stared at my shoes.
"Not that I don't like your shoes," He said slowly, running a hand through his wavy hair. "They're sick, but do you really wear shoes in the house?"
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," I said fast, and he laughed, mimicking me to which I hit on the arm lightly. "No, I just-"
"Did you say no?" He joked. "I thought I heard yes."
"I don't understand you suddenly. I don't speak stupid." I shot back, and he nudged me with his arm.
"I don't know with your constant 'no, no, no, no, no-" I shot him a glare, making him stop and laugh again. "Okay, I'm done. But seriously. Shoes in the house? C'mon."
"I don't. These are a new pair and they're nice. I've never worn these anywhere else. Let me live. Some of us get straight into them eagerly not all of us can wait in our," I looked down at his socks, my eyes almost bugging out of my head. "Are there cows on your socks?"
Caleb wiggled his foot, sending to close to my face and I leaped back. "I don't want to smell your stinky feet."
"You're just jealous you don't have cow socks."
"Oh yeah," I walked over to my dresser, opened it up, and looked through before I found a pair.
I tossed it over to him and he snorted when he caught it, his eyebrows going up. "Pigs? And I'm the weird one?"
"Can you shut up? My brother got them for me. He has a weird sense of humor."
"You have a brother?"
"A sister too."
"I'm guessing you're all very different personality-wise."
"Kind of." Caleb tossed me my socks back and I put them back in my drawer. "But then again, they're my siblings not my clones."
Caleb let out a breath. "Not sure if I could handle three Octavia's."
"I can barely handle one Caleb," I relaxed, a part of me glad that there was ease in our conversations once again. "Don't talk."
He smiled, scrunching his nose up in a cute way. "So, deal? On the whole advice thing?"
"Deal. But no more petty arguments."
"I don't know," Caleb narrowed his eyes. "We clash a lot. I have a feeling all of our arguments are borderline petty."
"Then, no more stupid arguments."
"Got it," Caleb agreed, and I heard my phone ring in my pocket. I adjusted the ponytail on my head and Caleb leaned back on my bed as I glanced at my phone. Declining the call and texting Erika that I was coming, Caleb suddenly said, "You look good."
I almost froze. One of the most complex men I've ever met in my entire life was currently on my bed, in my house, on my bed and I was going to go to an interview while he was currently sitting on my bed.
Caleb Henderson was sitting on my bed. I literally just registered the man, tattoos, and all that he was sitting on my bed.
And he just told me I looked good.
I pulled my gaze off my phone to look at him, now lying on his back on my bed but his head was at an angle where he could still look at me properly. Caleb's nonintimidating yet intimidating nature was something else when he was scanning me from head to toe. In what I'm going to assume to be in a friendly gesture.
I couldn't keep my eyes on him for too long or I would forget everything I was supposed to be doing. I was supposed to be heading out. Not looking at him. Not when he looked like something out of a movie-
"Thanks." The word came out slowly, testing the waters between us. Keep it in the possibility of a friendship range Caleb, not in the flirting range. I wouldn't be able to handle that from you.
Angie.
I blinked, my eyes going down and I pretend to glance at my phone. He's with Angie. There was no reason to fawn over his physical appearance. No reason, I repeated to myself just as Caleb opened his mouth to speak.
"But I have a feeling a part of you already knew that," I wasn't even given an opportunity to respond to that because Caleb sat back up. "Wherever you're headed must be important for me not to see sweatpants, Octavia."
"It was one time." I reminded him. "I have an interview."
"So, I'm not going to see sweatpants Octavia ever again?"
"Not on my watch."
Caleb gave me a lazy smile, getting up and heading over to my dresser. "As much as I like the earrings," He picked up a pair of silver hoops, handing them to me. "This screams Octavia."
"What about it screams me, exactly?"
"The whole 'I'm not afraid to call you out' attitude. Just wear them." I took them from his hands, taking a step back from him. His presence was overwhelming even his scent. He smelled like cinnamon, but it wasn't overbearing mostly because he smelled good.
I quickly changed the earrings, looking at myself in the mirror once again. "See? Perfect." Caleb said.
"Okay," Walking to my door, I gestured to the hallway. "Time to get out."
Caleb did the exact opposite. He jumped onto my bed and rolled over, spreading his arms out like a bird. "But your bed it's so comfortable."
"Caleb, get out."
He moved upward, putting his head on my pillow, that dumb smile on his face once again. I dropped my purse, took a hold of his leg, and started dragging him off my bed. "October!"
"I told you not to call me that, Henderson."
"We're on the last name basis now?" He said, wiggling his holdout of my hands as he finally got off my bed, grabbing my purse and heading out of the room. I struggled to get my bag back until we reached the bottom of the stairs and I took it from his hands with a huff.
"No, we are not on a last name basis now."
"So, October it is." He leaned against the railing of the staircase, enjoying this conversation more than someone should.
"Call me October again and I swear I will-"
"Caleb?" A voice called out.
"Vodka!" Caleb opened his arms out to embrace Krystal and my eyebrows really shot up to the sky at what he just called her.
"Vodka," I repeated.
"It's better than water." Krystal pointed at me and Caleb nodded.
I shook my head in disbelief, smiling at her. "I got to go. I'll see you later tonight. Make sure Romero here stays out of my room."
Caleb narrowed his eyes at me, his arm still around Krystal. "Romero?"
I was already walking out of the house when I said, "That's your middle name, isn't it?"