Anna nodded. She continued to rest her head in her hands, like she was exhausted and couldn’t quite bring herself to sit up. Well, she had said her flight from London had landed this morning.

“That’s why. I didn’t want to just watch in the dark. I wanted to make it come to life, like some kind of mad scientist.” He probably sounded like a fool. He really preferred writing to speaking. He never had enough time to get the words right.

“I get it,” Anna said, not taking her eyes from his.

“My parents always said to me and my brother, ‘You have to follow what you know in your heart to be your path, even if it’s inconvenient.’”

“Did they? Follow their path?”

“My dad made it through two years of law school before dropping out to become a chef, and my mom was disowned by her family when she decided to get her pilot’s license after high school, so they get it. So, what about you? Director doesn’t come up often on the average high school career quiz.”

“I ditched too much to ever take a quiz.” She smiled at the memory. “I used to sneak into the movie theater near my mom’s and my apartment. For two hours, I could forget about work, forget about school, forget about bills. I’m sure it would’ve been better to have a more sensible career. I tried, trust me, but I love being on set. It still feels magical. I just want to be a part of that, you know?”

“I get it.”

Anna twisted her hands around her empty bottle, pulling at the label with her blunt fingernails. Sitting this close to her, he spied a few freckles on her cheeks. Goddamn, she’s pretty.

She caught him glancing at her, and she ducked her chin, pushing her cap lower on her head. He should have been working on his rewrites, practicing his elevator pitch, or checking his account balance to see if he could make rent this month. Instead, he leaned his head against the back of the booth, crossed his arms over his chest and thought about kissing Anna Kovács. He wanted to know what her lips tasted like and what she would feel like in his arms. It had been a long time since he’d just simply wanted someone.

This train of thought should definitely be stopped, though. Anna Kovács was an award-winning director. He was a part-time bartender slash part-time actor slash part-time screenwriter slash part-time assistant director who had a scattering of IMDb credits to his name. He hoped Anna Kovács never found out about the one for screenwriting. Kissing her should’ve been the last thing on his mind.

Anna glanced at the script still sitting on the table between them. “No one sells their first script,” she said in a kind voice.