‘Evie,’ murmured Hugo. ‘You are loveable. And you might call it nonsensical, or impulsive, but I call it love. I love you, Evie.’

Evie leaned her head into his chest, her heart racing.

‘I know it’s ridiculously soon,’ Hugo said. ‘But since you’ve come into my life, you’ve changed everything. I’m writing better, my head is clearer, hell, I even signed a book deal. I can’t imagine living in a world without you anymore. You are my biggest champion, and I want to be yours too.’

Evie blinked back tears, her doubts dissipating. This man, this beautiful, thoughtful, creative man, who was capable of writing such genius, loved her. Evie gave herself permission to believe that perhaps she could be the protagonist of her own love story, after all.

So, she kissed him.

It was a kiss from the movies. A kiss from Hugo’s future film. A kiss of fairytales. She had never been happier than in that moment.

SEVENTEEN

Seventeen

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of excitement and activity. With not long to get his book ready for publication, Hugo was working tirelessly on editing and proofreading. Evie had all but moved in with him, spending most evenings at his studio. They were in that glorious, desperate phase in their romance, relishing every moment of togetherness and barely able to keep their hands off each other.

Evie loved watching Hugo work. The way his brow furrowed made her heart flutter, and when he looked over to ask for her input she felt proud and worthy. His commitment to his craft was contagious too, and Evie found herself more inspired and motivated than ever. This rush of creativity couldn’t have come at a better time, with her own competition deadline looming.

Apart from Hugo’s, the only other place Evie frequented was Ben’s flat. They were going hell for leather on their short films. Evie was helping Ben to make his doco entry more romantic and commercial (of course) and Ben had been assisting Evie with her dialogue (he had a knack for being punchy and to the point). Having survived the creative ups and downs of ‘am I getting somewhere or is this is just a giant pile of shite?’, they were feeling good about what they had created, and had only the finishing touches to add.

Today though, Evie and Ben were meeting at the cinema. The final submissions were due at midnight, but with Evie unable to get out of her shift (Josie had said she would literally put a hit out on her if she bailed on the Sunday rush), they had no choice but to chat while she worked. So, between serving customers, Ben and Evie shared hurried exchanges while Ben acted as scribe, proofread, and placated Josie.

‘Berry, this is good. Like, really good,’ he said, scrolling through the pages on his laptop.