Page 78 of Don't Date Your Nemesis

“This film I’m making…” she leaned forward. “It’s about a woman rebuilding herself after her life falls apart. It’s going to be messy and raw, so I need someone who understands that depth isn’t always pretty.”

“I understand that.”

My hands were sweaty, but I kept them firmly on my lap, too scared to even move an inch. This is my chance.

“I know you do. That’s why you’re here,” she smiled, and my hope bloomed with it. “The role’s yours if you want it. We start shooting in four months.”

Four months? That’s it? Ohmygod.

I tried not to jump up from the chair.

“Who’s the male lead?” I asked, my wide grin making my cheeks hurt.

She waved a hand. “We’re still casting. But does it matter? You have chemistry with everyone. I’ve seen your work.”

It didn’t matter. Not really. This was Ananya Mehta. The director who launched careers, won Oscars, and made films that actually meant something.

“I want it,” I said sincerely, my hands itching to read the entire script and start preparing to embody the character.

“I’m glad to hear it, Deepika. My assistant will send the contract.”

The meeting with Ananya Mehta went better than I had dared to hope, and I told Liam everything in the car on the way home, my words tumbling out faster than I could organize them.

“And she said I’m wasted in supporting roles, can you believe that? And the script is incredible, Liam, it’s exactly the kind of work I’ve been dying to do, and she wants me. Not as second choice or backup, but me specifically, and we start shooting in four months which is perfect timing because⁠—”

I stopped, hand flying to my mouth.

I had been talking for fifteen minutes straight without pausing for breath.

“Sorry,” I blurted. “I’m boring you.”

He frowned, pulling into our driveway. “What do you mean, boring?”

His blond hair looked damp from his practice. He had come to pick me up in the terrible LA traffic and kept nodding, asking me questions and sharing his opinions on the meeting while I yapped non-stop.

Heat crept up my neck as I said, “I’ve been talking nonstop. Yash used to hate when I…”

I trailed off, watching Liam’s expression go dark.

“When you what?” he asked, his voice low and deep.

“Nothing. It’s not important.”

I was about to get out of the car when he grabbed my wrist.

“Deepika.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. He won’t let it go, so I said, “When I got excited about work. He said I talked too much, even though it was about… our work. He always said that I made everything about me and that I should—” I waved my hands around in the air. “You know… be less.”

“He’s a fucking idiot,” he said bitterly, and the vehemence in his voice startled me.

“I enjoy listening to you talk,” he continued, his thumb rubbing soft circles on my wrist. “You light up when you’re excited and it’s…” He cleared his throat, averting his gaze. “It’s nice.”

My heart felt warm, and I smiled when he opened the passenger door for me.

We went inside, and I was about to head upstairs when he asked.

“Have you talked to your sister?”