Will the Real Abi Sanders Please Stand Up? by Sara Hantz Page A

He raises an eyebrow, like it’s really weird for someone to admit to that. I know she’s made over twenty movies, but that’s not many for a true fan to see. Plus, it’s been over a long period of time.
    “Um…yes. We all have over the years, from when we were young.”
    “We?”
    “My friends. We love Tilly, I mean her movies.” If I don’t watch it, he’ll have me labeled as one of those crazy obsessed fans. “Is that okay?”
    “Yes, of course. And I can see you mean it, not like some jerks in the business who’ll stab you in the back quicker than look at you, given the opportunity.”
    Sounds like he’s talking from personal experience. Poor him, it must be hard playing second fiddle to Tilly. His time will come, I’m sure. How could it not, looking like he does? From now on I’ll definitely follow his career.
    “Do you think we should be getting back to the set? Zac might suddenly decide he needs me. I should really be in the resting tent,” I say, reluctant to leave but not wanting to get into trouble.
    “I hope you’re not just saying that to get away from me.” He winks, and my insides go all warm and squidgy.
    How could he even think that? I’d love to spend more time getting to know him, if I could. What started out as being a very so-so day, especially with Tilly’s insult, is fast becoming the best day I’ve had on set so far. “No. Of course not. It’s because…well, you know Zac. He can get so…so…”
    “Abi, chill. Don’t be so uptight, it will be fine.”
    Easy for him to say; he’s not working here. Then again, maybe I am overreacting. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Yes, I know. Sorry,” I say.
    “Come on, we’ll go back together.” He holds out his arm.
    I think he wants me to link mine through his, and as I tentatively wrap my fingers around his bicep, my heart skips a beat, and a feeling of warmth shoots through me.
    …
    Standing in line at the craft service table waiting for lunch, my pulse quickens as I notice Jon a few people in front of me. I’ve been hoping to see him since we met the other day, only he hasn’t been around. Not that I expect him to talk to me.
    “Hey, watch what you’re doing.” The sound of an angry voice distracts me, and I stick my head out of the line to see what’s going on.
    Zac’s first assistant, Chad, is glaring at one of the new interns. Judging by the OJ stain on his tee shirt and the upturned glass, she knocked his tray and sent his drink flying all over him.
    “I’m sorry,” she says, her bottom lip trembling.
    I’d love to go over and give her a hug. I know how scary it can be here when you’re new, and that’s when everything’s going well. To screw up takes newbie nerves off the scale. At least, it does in my world.
    “Sorry isn’t going to fix it. Get me another juice and then go find me another shirt.”
    She looks anxiously at the tray she’s holding, which has a plate of salad on it, and then back at Chad. Indecision is written across her face.
    “Leave the girl alone, Chad,” Jon says, stepping out of line and striding toward them. “It was an accident, and you’re upsetting her.”
    The intern goes crimson. “It’s okay,” she mutters, her voice hardly audible. “It was my fault for not looking.”
    “Exactly,” Chad says, narrowing his eyes.
    Jon takes the intern’s tray. “I’ll get Chad’s OJ. You go to wardrobe and find a clean tee. We’ll leave your lunch at the end of the table by the cutlery.” He flashes her a warm smile, and she mutters thanks and scuttles off. Jon then leans across some people in line and pulls out another OJ and places it on Chad’s tray.
    “Here. An orange juice. No harm done.”
    He’s right. It’s not like Chad was wearing something special. It’s just a tee shirt with the movie name on it. We’ve all got one. There are probably boxes of them stashed away somewhere on the lot.
    “I suppose not,” Chad says, having the decency to look just a little