There's a great big world out there

And I wanna see it

There's a great big world out there

And there's a place for me in it

~*~*~*~*~*~

Saturday, March 5, 2019

I nervously rubbed my sweaty palms over my jeans, my best friend definitely not helping my nerves any.

"Are you nervous?" Hanna asked. "I mean, of course you are. This could be your big break. Oh my god, what if this movie is a box office hit? You could be raking in big money. And probably so many other movies. Can you just imagine? My best friend being a big Hollywood actress. Oh my—"

"Hanna, please stop rambling," I near-begged. "And yes, I'm nervous." Actually, I was on the verge of having an anxiety attack, but decided it best not to tell her.

My best friend at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry." She twirled a lock of her long wavy blonde hair around her finger. "I'm just really nervous for you."

I gave her a half smile. "It's okay. Just don't get too far ahead of yourself. I don't even have the part yet."

"I know. It's all just so exciting, you know? You've never gotten so far in the auditioning process with such a big budget movie like this. How many girls are still left?"

"Other than me? Four."

"Holy shit, Jules. You're so close!"

I allowed myself one brief moment to smile—to hope. "I know. I have to test with my potential costar today, and I think it all kind of hinges on that. So I just hope we have good chemistry."

"Who is it?" Hanna asked, leaning forward with an excited glint in her eyes. "Is he hot?"

"I don't know if he is. They actually haven't told me who it is, but I guess I'll find out soon enough."

Hanna's eyes widened as they fell on the clock behind me. "Or never if you don't leave now. You can't be late, or they might not even let you in."

I turned my head to look at the clock myself and cursed. "Shit. You're right. Wish me luck?" I asked, standing up and snatching my bag off the table.

"Good luck," she said, pulling me in so tight a hug it nearly hurt. "You'll knock 'em dead, I just know it."

I nodded, though I didn't really share her faith in me. I gave her one last shaky smile and hurried out the door. I was so nervous and on edge that a car door slamming a few feet away from me nearly set me off. I got into my car, putting my hands on the steering wheel as I took a deep breath. I am stronger than my anxiety. I can do this. I slowly nodded to myself and put my key into the ignition, turning it.

The drive from Venice Beach to Hollywood was about forty minutes, but traffic could push that well past an hour, and I did not want to be late. I was not yet an established name in Hollywood, and I didn't want to start my career by being known for being tardy.

After cursing nearly my entire way through traffic, I finally reached the studio where the auditions were being held. I hastily grabbed my script, locked the car, doubled back for my purse, locked my car again, and rushed my way inside, three minutes to spare. I walked up to the bored looking receptionist and gave her a polite smile. "Hi, I'm—"

"State your name and business please," she interrupted me, and I noticed she was stereotypically chewing bright pink bubblegum.

"Uh, I'm Juliette Morrison. I'm here for my screen test for If You Love Someone."

She typed a few things into her computer and nodded. "One floor up." That was all she was willing to share before she grabbed her phone and started checking Facebook right in front of me.

"Oo-kay..." I muttered under my breath. "How professional."

I walked up the stairs and thanked the stars when I found signs pointing to the room the screen test was being held in. I followed them, ending up at a waiting room-like space filled with four other women. They all looked similar to each other, and similar to me, too, I realized. All were reasonably tan and had brown hair like mine, though some had curls, and only one had straight hair, like me. Three of them I remembered seeing in either a movie or a TV show before, leaving only one of them unfamiliar to me. I gave them a tentative smile and took place in one of the chairs. They gave me unimpressed looks in return, making my heart sink.

If they were unimpressed with me, what would the producers think? The director?

I tried to shake it off and instead focused on my script, the part I would be doing in just a couple of minutes.

The silence in the room was broken when a door opened and a middle-aged woman poked her head out. "Gina Adams?" she inquired.

The girl I hadn't recognized stood up, straightened her skirt, and walked into the room with her head held high. She was in for about ten minutes before she came out again, looking absolutely stunned.

"Is something wrong?" one of the other girls asked her.

Gina looked at her with wide eyes. Once the question seemed to have registered, she shook her head. "No," she squeaked, and she hurried away, leaving us wondering just what the hell had happened inside that room.

"Elisabeth Grant?"

One of the more haughty looking girls stood up and strode inside the room, seemingly determined to not be deterred by Gina's reaction. It seemed to have worked, because when she returned, she looked a lot less shocked than Gina. But as soon as the door closed behind her, she grabbed her phone, muttered, "Oh my God," and started texting like crazy.

The two others were called before me, having similar reactions, and as I was the only one left in the waiting room, I grabbed my compact mirror from my purse and hurriedly checked my reflection.

Bright green eyes looked back at me, and I hated that I could see nervousness there. My face was completely free of makeup, just as they'd requested, and I thanked my lucky stars for not having any pimples today. I checked if there was anything in my teeth (which there wasn't—thank God) and found nothing else wrong with my appearance, so I put the mirror back where it had come from.

Just in time, too, because just then the door opened and Michelle Kelley came out. She gave me a knowing smile, said, "Good luck," and left.

What was that supposed to mean? Did that mean she was sure she had this down? Or did she think I wouldn't be able to handle myself in there?

I didn't have time to contemplate the meaning behind her words any longer, because the door opened again and that same woman who'd called the others said, "Juliette Morrison?"

I stood up, took a deep breath, and walked into the room with my shoulders pushed back and my head held high. Inside the room were one cameraman, the casting director, two producers, the director, and the guy I would be playing opposite of.

He was gorgeous. He had dark brown, curly hair, striking blue eyes, a jaw that could cut glass covered with a light stubble and beautifully shaped lips. He was none other than Henry Cavill.

I would be playing opposite freaking Superman? Now I was beginning to understand the other girls' reactions.

And then, because it was me and I had apparently used up all my luck for the day, I tripped over my own two feet and lay sprawled on the floor, right in front of him. "Fuck!" I cursed under my breath, and then, realizing that word wasn't all too polite, I hoped no one had heard me. As I lay there on the floor, I couldn't help but replay Hanna's words in my head. Good luck. You'll knock 'em dead, I just know it. More like knock myself out with my own clumsiness. Ignoring the helpful hand in front of me, I stood up on my own, certain my whole head was beet red.

"Are you okay?" Henry asked, his eyes wide.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine, thanks." Fuck my life. I tried to wipe the embarrassment off my face and gave everyone a confident smile, hearing my mom's voice in my head. No matter what situation you're in, appear confident and people will think you are. "Hi, I'm Juliette Morrison," I said, shaking the hands of everyone I hadn't met yet.

I shook Henry's hand last. His shake was firm, but his skin surprisingly soft. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Henry," he said, his words coming out in an amazing British accent.

As if I didn't know that. I hadn't exactly been living in a cave the past few years. But I smiled politely at him like it was all new information, trying hard not to blush or think about how attractive he was.

"Well, let's start," one of the producers said. "I assume you've prepared the scene?"

"Yes, of course."

"Go right ahead."

I took a deep breath and faced Henry. And suddenly I wasn't Juliette Morrison anymore. I was Amelia Brenner and I was pissed at Noah Rogers. "If you didn't want me to go out with Ambrose, why didn't you do something about it? I am so sick of you acting so jealous all the time, when really, you missed your chance and you know it!"

Henry glared right back at me. "I'm not jealous, and you even trying to suggest that is way over the line, Amelia. What's really the problem is that Ambrose is an asshole, and you're refusing to see it."

"Why do you even care about me dating an asshole? You seem to have no problem whatsoever dating women that are less than nice to me. Somehow you always conveniently turn a blind eye to that."

He scoffed. "All the girls I dated since I met you were always nice to you."

"When you were around, maybe. But as soon as you were out the room, the threats would start. Especially that Melanie girl was bad. Did you know she threatened to shave my eyebrows off if I didn't stop hanging out with you?"

He stared at me for a moment before busting out a laugh. "She didn't."

"She did! See what I mean? You're about as attentive as a freaking teaspoon."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You're right. But you know I'm right about Ambrose. He's an asshole and a known cheater. Probably a meninist, too," he said, disgust dripping from his voice. "Why did you even agree to go out with him?"

I stared at him, refusing to admit it was to make him jealous. "I just... I don't know."

He shook his head. "You know what? Never mind. If you want to make a huge mistake by going out with him, then go right ahead. I don't even care anymore."

And just like that, we were Henry and Juliette again. I blushed a little once I realized how close we'd gotten and took a step back. He was smiling, but the other people in the room were absolutely unreadable. The director gave me a short nod. "Thank you. We'll get back to you in a week."

I stared. That was it? "Thank you." I gave Henry a small smile, saying, "It was nice to have met you," and walked out of the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The drive back home passed by in a blur. I could've hit a person and not noticed. My mind was still in that room with Henry and the crew. I was going over my performance, wondering—praying—I hadn't done anything stupid other than that horrid fall that still had my cheeks blazing. I could hardly remember any of it.

Hanna was basically bouncing from the walls when I got home. She fired questions at me so fast I barely had time to answer them. The only time she was rendered speechless was when I told her that, if I got the part, my costar would be Henry Cavill. In true Hanna McLynn fashion, though, she recovered quickly, asking me questions like if he was nice, if he was as muscular as in Man of Steel, and questions like if he smelled nice or not (to which I replied that yes, he smelled very nice).

Sadly, I couldn't stay around all day to answer her endless array of questions, because I had a job to get to. I was a waitress in a restaurant in Venice Beach, because sadly, as Hanna had reminded me earlier, I hadn't hit my big break just quite yet. I needed something to pay the bills, and waitressing wasn't ideal, but at least it brought in some money. I quickly put on some makeup, put my hair up in a ponytail, changed my outfit and said goodbye to Hanna before heading out.

My shift started at four, and it was already quite crowded inside the restaurant, people coming in for late lunches or early dinners. I went in through the back and said hello to my colleagues before putting on my apron and grabbing my notepad and wallet.

As the time passed, the restaurant got more and more crowded, and before I knew it, I was racing from table to table. Strands of hair had escaped my ponytail and were really starting to annoy me because they kept getting in my eyes, but I didn't have any time to redo it. I probably looked like a mess, but hardly had time to think about it. But then I saw him, and it was all I could think about.

None other than Henry Cavill walked into the restaurant, and—naturally—sat down right in the middle of my section. I did a one eighty and marched right back to the kitchen, feeling my face go bright red. I discarded all my stuff and grabbed my phone instead, typing up a text to Hanna.

Henry Cavill is in the restaurant. I repeat, HENRY FUCKING CAVILL IS IN THE RESTAURANT.

She was quick to reply, like always.

oh my god!! what u gonna do?

He's in my section. I have to go up to him.

AWKS! can't u ask someone else to cover for u?

No! Everyone's busy. HELP!

stay calm. u can do dis.

I rolled my eyes, but put my phone back in my pocket and headed back into the main restaurant with my head held high. With a pleasant smile on my face, I walked up to his table.

Henry was sitting with a friend, talking animatedly. They didn't even notice me at first, not until I said, "Hi, welcome to Harvey's. Can I get you anything?"

Henry looked up first, his eyes widening when he recognized me. "Juliette?"

Ah, crap. He remembered me. I guess it had only been a few hours since our screen test, and my fall must've made me quite memorable. "Uh, hi, Henry."

"You work here?" he asked with that delicious accent of his.

I blushed. "Uh, yeah... A struggling actress has got to make her money somehow, right?"

He smiled. "I suppose so."

"So, uh..." I stammered, blushing once I realized I'd said 'uh' way too much already. "Can I get you guys anything to drink?"

They gave me their orders, and, feeling like the biggest idiot ever, I returned to the kitchen to get their drink orders back.

Omg.

did he recognize u?

Yes.

OMG.

Yeah.

so????? what did he say?????????????

He asked if I worked here, and I said I had to make money somehow and then he said 'I suppose' and now I feel really embarrassed.

OMG.

He probably thinks I'm really stupid. I probably won't get the role anyway.

yes, u will, u'll see.

Rolling my eyes at you right now. But I gotta go.

I shoved my phone in my pocket again and grabbed the drinks for Henry and his friend. The entire way to their table, I focused harder than usual on not tripping with the tray balanced on the palm of my hand. I breathed a sigh of relief when I arrived unscathed.

I set their drinks in front of them with a smile on my face, like my inner turmoil was nowhere to be felt. "Here you go. Have you decided what you want to eat?"

Henry smiled back at me. "Do you have any recommendations?"

"If you like steak, our rib eye is really good. And though I steer clear of all seafood in general, I've heard on multiple occasions that our sea bass is really good."

There was a smile in Henry's eyes as he said, "I'm not too big a fan of seafood, either. But I'll take you up on that rib eye."

I turned to Henry's friend, who said, "I'll take the sea bass."

Henry snorted, and I couldn't help a small smile as I wrote it down. "Coming right up." I gave them another warm smile and walked to the kitchens to give their order to the chefs, my face contorting into an uncomfortable grimace once my back was turned to them.

"Oh my God, Jules! Is that Henry effing Cavill at one of your tables?"

I turned to Chelsea, one of my coworkers and a friend of mine. "Yeah, Chels, that's Henry Cavill."

"Why the long face?" she asked, tucking a lock of platinum blonde hair behind her ear. "Helping a star as hot as him is the ultimate goal here."

"Because earlier today, I screen tested with him and now I'm his waitress. It's awkward."

Chelsea's eyes widened, and she nearly dropped her notepad. "Holy shit, no way! You're gonna be in a movie with him?" She fanned herself. "I might die," she squeaked.

I pulled a face. "Don't get your hopes up. I might not even get the part. There were four others there, three of which who definitely have more experience than me."

"It's not always about experience, you know," she said wisely, sticking her notepad in the front pocket of her apron just in case I might shock her again. "You're a great actress, and that's what really counts."

I gave her a small smile. "Thanks for the pep talk, Chels, but I really have to get back now."

"Get back to making moony eyes at Henry, you mean," Chelsea teased.

"I wasn't making moony eyes at him," I hissed, feeling myself grow red. I mean, had I been? I'm pretty sure I hadn't.

She patted my shoulder. "Don't worry, hon. He's into you, too."

Chelsea left the kitchen, leaving me standing there, numb. Her words were on repeat in my head, only feeding the paranoia that had started ever since I saw Henry walk into the restaurant.

I shook my head as if it could shake off the thoughts and walked back into the main restaurant, my head raised confidently. I might not feel too confident, but Chelsea hadn't been wrong about one thing: I was a great actress, and I wasn't about to let Henry know his presence bothered me. Or Chelsea, for that matter.

I tended to the other costomers, smiling and chatting with them, all the while keeping an eye on Henry and his friend. They looked to be entangled in a deep conversation, but I kept noticing Henry looking my way. Every time our eyes met, Chelsea's words echoed in my head. Don't worry, hon. He's into you, too. But how could he be? I was just a failed, broke actress trying to make ends meet by working a shitty waitressing job, and he was... Well, he was literally Superman.

When I returned to the kitchen, Henry and his friend's food was done, so I grabbed the plates, took a shaky breath, and headed out there. When I reached their table, his friend looked at Henry with a knowing smile while Henry smiled sweetly at me, his face completely unreadable. What the hell was going on?

"A rib eye steak," I said, setting the plate down in front of Henry, "and a sea bass. Let me know if you need anything else."

Giving them another smile, I turned back to the kitchen, screaming on the inside. I never really fared well in uncomfortable situations, and I was proving that more and more. I didn't even know what to say to him. I made a fool of myself during our screen test, and now I was only continuing to do the same. I didn't dare think about what he must think of me now.

Still, though, I had a job to do. Two men had just sat down in my section, two tables away from Henry and his friend, and I approached them hesitantly, noticing they were drunk. "Good evening and welcome to Harvey's. Can I get you anything to drink?"

One of the men, a blond guy who could be cute if he hadn't given me the creeps, wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. "You, my dear, can give me anything you like."

"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to remove your hand and let me go."

"Oh, this old hand?" he asked mischievously, and it snaked lower, until it cupped my butt.

"Sir," I warned, squirming uncomfortably in his hold. He still wouldn't let go, only holding on to me even tighter.

"Hey!" a familiar voice said. "The lady doesn't like it. Now let her go and leave."

Now that he was distracted, I was able to squirm out of the man's grip. He twisted around in his seat and glared at Henry. "Yeah, what are you gonna do 'bout it?"

Henry rose to his full six foot one, incredibly muscled frame. He looked threatening even to me. "You don't want to know."

Recognition lit in the drunk man's eyes. "Hey, you're—"

"Don't kick a scene, just get out quietly," Henry interrupted him. "Your advances aren't wanted here. And if I ever hear about you coming back here, there will be consequences."

Getting threatened by Superman, of all people, would be intimidating to anyone, and it worked on the two drunk men as well. They hastily scrambled to their feet and scurried out of the restaurant. Needing to have something to do, I pushed their chairs back under the table.

I jumped at the touch of a gentle hand on my arm. "Hey, are you okay?" Henry asked softly. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

I gave him a tentative smile, surprised at the electricity I felt from his touch. "No, he didn't. You can be quite scary, by the way."

He smiled sheepishly. "I wasn't actually going to do anything to him. Plus side of being an actor, I suppose."

"Well, thank you. I appreciate you standing up for me."

"Hey, any time. And are you sure you're okay?"

I smiled at him a little more confidently. "Yeah, I'm sure. Believe it or not, but that's not the first time it happened. Probably won't be the last either."

"Oh, I believe it."

"So little faith in your own gender, huh?" I joked.

He gave me a wry smile. "Men can be arseholes sometimes."

"Yes, they can. But really, I'm fine. You should probably get back to your steak. Wouldn't want it to get cold."

I wouldn't want your steak to get cold? Really, Juliette?

He shook his head a little disbelievingly. "If you're sure..." After another smile and a nod from me, he said, "Okay. If there's another drunk guy I need to take care of for you, just let me know." He was smiling, but he sounded deadly serious, too.

A little flustered, I watched him walk back to his own table.

My shift passed by quite uneventfully after that, apart from Chelsea sending rapid fire questions at me about what had happened with Henry and 'molester dude.' I was as vague as I could be and went back out to the restaurant to avoid any more questions.

I was sad to see Henry leave once he was done eating, but what really shocked me was the check he'd left behind. He'd given me a five hundred dollar tip like it was nothing (which, for him, it probably was) and written on the receipt, "Thanks for the suggestion. The rib eye was delicious." His script was elegant and a little tilted.

All through the rest of my shift, I couldn't wait to go home and tell Hanna all about what had happened. When I got there, she was bouncing off the walls again, remarkably similar to when I'd gotten back from my screen test. She freaked out when I told her about him defending my honor, and even more when I showed her the receipt.

"Oh my God, Jules, this is... This is just holy shit, that's what it fucking is."

"Believe me, I know. But why the huge tip? Like, does he feel sorry for me because he knows I won't get the part? Or does he feel sorry for me because I told him I'm a struggling actress? Or does he just always do things like this?"

"You know what? Don't over analyze this too much," Hanna said wisely. "Just wait until next week. You'll get the call that you got the part, and then you can question him about the tip all you want."

I gave her a wavering smile. "I wish I shared your faith in me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The lyrics at the start of the chapter are Great Big World by Ron Pope.

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