Treacherous

Angela feels drowsiness overtaking her; her eyelids drawing heavy. She doesn’t have the luxury of falling asleep; not yet anyway. Not while they’re filming.

Amanda’s laugh sounds before Angela sees her. She’s been busy grappling with the rules of the game they’re playing and didn’t seen her friend sneak in. She hadn't expected her to be here. It’s a hot set: nobody is supposed to enter while the cameras are rolling. But it’s Amanda. And Amanda is an exception to the rules: everybody knows that.

She hears Amanda's laugh once more, booming and bright, injecting some much needed life into the room. Angela searches for her friend, finding her tucked away in the back corner. Amanda’s eyes are already on her, and a broad grin sweeps across her face as they make eye contact. For a moment everything else melts away. There’s only her and Amanda. That is until Chanse swats her arm, indicating that it’s her turn. She makes a conscious effort to switch back to her on-camera personality, hoping to settle into the video again, but it’s a lost cause: she knows Amanda's watching her. 

Filming is running late. It’s the last of a long shoot week, and there’s no sign of it ending any time soon. Angela has been rapidly losing the little concentration she had left, and Amanda’s unexpected appearance has torn away her final shred of focus. She’s desperately trying to train her attention on the game in front of her, but it’s no use. She’s completely spaced on what it is they’re playing.

When Angela looks for Amanda again she’s moved, now closer to the front of the room, chatting animatedly with Spencer. He catches Angela’s eye, his brow furrowing. Amanda is still talking, and he nods in response to what she’s saying, but he keeps his gaze locked on Angela. He gives her a look, as though he can tell something isn’t right with her. Concern looms over his face as he mouths “are you okay?”

Angela grimaces, gritting her teeth as she shakes her head slightly. She hopes nobody else will notice, and they don’t seem to. Amanda does, of course. She's now looking over at her too, eyes full of worry.

Spencer gives Angela a subtle thumbs up. Relief washes over her, and she allows herself to relax slightly knowing that her tiredness has been noted. She goes to return her focus to the game, but Spencer clears his throat, commanding the attention of the room.

‘Hey guys, we’ll call it here for five,’ he calls. ‘Maybe ten,’ he adds, scanning the weary faces of the cast before looking back at Angela.

She mouths “thank you” to him, getting out of her chair to stretch. Her gaze shifts back to Amanda, who’s still staring at her. Although, the worried demeanour she'd had just moments ago has been replaced by her usual bright eyes and huge smile. She barely waits to attract Angela’s attention before walking across the set.

‘Hey,’ Angela greets as her friend draws closer. She hides a yawn behind her hand.

‘Hi,’ Amanda’s energy is palpable, making Angela feel even more exhausted.

Angela attempts to ignore the way Amanda’s staring at her, as if she’s completely oblivious to anyone else in the room. As far as Angela is concerned, that could be true: her own thoughts always gravitate to Amanda, as if her mind is being pulled to her by some invisible force. In her mind it's always just the two of them.

‘I thought you’d have left by now,’ Angela says after a moment of prolonged eye-contact. ‘It’s so late.’

‘We just wrapped up, but I heard you guys filming and snuck in. I wanted to see you at work, babe.’ Amanda playfully bumps her hip against Angela’s.

Angela tries and fails to ignore the use of a pet name and the electricity that pulses through her with Amanda’s touch. She lets the feeling wash over her, numbing her mind. It’s always hard to concentrate on anything else when Amanda speaks, more so when she’s this tired.

‘I just wanted to make sure you were okay before I left. I can’t believe you guys are still shooting,’ Amanda says.

Angela is too drained to respond. Instead, she leans in close to her best friend, who automatically envelopes her in a tight hug. She wraps her arms around Amanda’s back, melting into the comfort of the embrace. Amanda tightens her grip, and Angela takes the opportunity to nuzzle closer into her. She’s grateful for their stark difference in height when Amanda rests her chin on the top of her head. It’s the calmest Angela’s felt all day, but she isn’t willing to admit that out loud. She’s barely willing to admit it in her head.

‘Are you okay, honey?’ Amanda asks. She’s tracing circles with her pointer finger on Angela’s back. It’s a gentle motion, probably unconscious, but it feels charged.

‘Mhmm,’ Angela mumbles, not ready to use words. She closes her eyes, soaking in the warmth of Amanda’s hug, and the feeling of her fingertips across her back.

Amanda take a deep breath, and Angela takes note of the way their chests rise and fall in in harmony. She knows Amanda won’t be the first to let go, she never is, and for that Angela is glad: she’s not ready to leave her grasp yet. Not when it's so warm and comfortable. Not when she’s so exhausted she could fall asleep right here.

There’s conversations happening around them; Angela's vaguely aware, but she’s too zoned out to decipher any words. It’s not until Amanda regretfully lifts her chin off of Angela’s head that she realises it’s probably almost time to film again. She squeezes her eyes closed even tighter, desperate to freeze time.

‘Spencer’s about to call you back, honey.’ Amanda’s voice is close to her ear, quiet and breathy.

Angela groans in response, finally opening her eyes. She blinks a few times, taking in the brightness of the set. The other cast are moving back to their seats, but she's not prepared to peel herself away from the hug.

‘Angela, let’s go.’

It’s Spencer’s voice, trying to force her back into reality. She doesn't want to let go just yet.

‘Five more minutes?’ She croaks. Her sleepiness is evident, and the way Amanda’s still drawing lines on her back isn’t convincing her to stay awake. If Amanda asked her leave set now, go home and fall asleep in her arms, Angela would choose that in an instant.

‘Angela.’ It’s Chanse this time, his call breaking through her daydream. ‘Come on. Sooner we start, sooner we can leave.’

He has a point.

Besides, Amanda’s never going to ask Angela to leave with her. It’s a stupid fantasy, and it’s time to wake up.

She sighs, finally letting go of her friend and taking a couple of steps backwards.

‘Amanda, time to go,’ Spencer calls. ‘One minute, Ange, then we’re rolling again.’

Amanda lets out a loud sigh, turning her face in Spencer's direction: it’s laced with laughter. 

'One minute. Both of you. I'm serious,' Spencer warns, although he can't help but smile back at Amanda. 

One minute more with Amanda is better than nothing.

‘Are you still coming over tomorrow?’ Angela asks. She definitely could’ve waited to text Amanda in the morning, but she’d prefer to solidify her weekend plans as soon as possible.

Amanda’s face falls slightly.

‘Honey, I totally forgot,’ she replies. She seems genuinely regretful, but it stings regardless. ‘I have to check my plans, but I’m sure we don’t have anything else booked in.’

We. Angela detests the word in this context.

It’s not that she dislikes Amanda’s husband; in fact, she adores him, but still, it hurts. She doesn’t care to address the feeling any more. Instead, she pushes it down, deep inside her.

Two years of being in love with her best friend hasn’t driven her completely insane just yet. She’s not going to let the idea of cancelled weekend plans change that.

Amanda guides Angela back towards the set. It’s easy to be lead by Amanda, especially when her hands find their way Angela’s shoulders, massaging her stress away. Angela’s certain it’s unconscious; Amanda can feel her tension building and wants to ease it. That's just who she is: she loves to help people. To fix them. Besides, she's like this with everyone; Angela's not special. She allows herself to bask in the feeling of Amanda's touch, anyway.

It’s fine. She’s good. She is fine.

It’s a mantra she’s run through her head for over two years. The words are second nature to her now. She repeats them time and time again until they start to ring true. 

‘Okay, I really have to go,’ Amanda says, finally taking her hands off of Angela’s shoulders. ‘My husband’s awaitin’ me,’ she puts on a playful southern accent.

Angela’s too tired to force a laugh, but she fakes a smile as she turns to face her friend. She tries not to notice the absence of Amanda's hands on her.

‘Let me know about tomorrow,’ she’s desperate not to sound too needy, but she can’t stand the idea of Amanda cancelling on her.

‘I will honey,’ Amanda replies, leaning in to place a kiss on Angela’s cheek.

Angela has grown used to the feeling of her best friend’s lips on her face, lingering, not quite close enough to graze the corner of her mouth. It was difficult, at first, to understand that it’s just platonic, but she’s learnt it’s just Amanda’s way of saying goodbye, nothing more.

Still, knowing that doesn’t stop her wanting to turn her head to meet Amanda’s lips. To kiss her properly, even just once. If only to know how it would feel.

It’s just an impulse, though, nothing more.

And Angela has learnt not to act on impulse.

‘Hey,’ Amanda’s eyes are on her, brow furrowed in concern. ‘Are you okay to make it through the rest of the shoot? I can tell Spencer you have to leave.’

There’s nothing Angela wants more than to leave. Instead, she shakes her head, widening her eyes and plastering on a smile. She doesn’t meet Amanda’s eye-line, though: she’s learnt that sometimes it’s best if she doesn’t look at her directly. Amanda’s eyes have a way of drawing out her vulnerability.

‘All good. I’m okay,’ Angela replies.

It’s true: she may be exhausted, but she is okay.

At least she’s willing to tell herself that she’s okay.

She’s happy to fake it. Fine until the voice in the back of her mind encourages her to do something stupid, like stare at Amanda’s lips for too long. They’re dark pink today, parted slightly as she breathes. Amanda feels like gravity, constantly pulling Angela closer into her orbit.

Amanda’s lips are moving for a moment before Angela hears her words.

‘Hmm?’ Angela hums, pulling herself out of her daze. She takes a step back, creating an invisible barrier between herself and her best friend.

‘I said are you sure you’re okay, idiot?’ Amanda laughs, her lips forming a broad smile. ‘You look so lost.’

Angela has to remind herself again to look away from Amanda’s lips.

‘Yeah,’ she clears her throat. ‘Yes. I am so good.’

This time she knows it’s a lie.

‘Angela,’ Spencer calls again. There’s an undertone of irritation. It’s not surprising, given how tired everyone is.

Amanda nods, backing away as Angela takes her place at the games table. The seat is uncomfortable: no replacement for the feeling of Amanda's embrace. The door opens, then closes as Amanda slips out of the room. Angela watches the space until the lights are brought back up and she’s temporarily blinded by the brightness.

‘What the fuck was that?’ Chanse leans in close, whispering as he sits down next to her.

'What?' Angela whispers back.

'Amanda?' 

‘She just wanted to say goodbye.' She shifts uncomfortably in her chair, hoping Chanse won’t notice.

He raises his eyebrows at her, wide-eyed.

‘And she says goodbye by kissing you now?’ He smirks.

‘Why are you surprised? That's not a new thing.’

She wracks her brain, trying to remember the first time Amanda brushed a hand against her arm, or hugged her a moment too long; when she started saying goodbye with a kiss on her cheek. It’s been too long: there’s hundreds of memories of lingering touches, merged with Angela’s yearning.

Chanse lets out a breathy laugh.

‘I've never seen her do that before,’ he remarks.

‘She’s just being friendly.’

‘Angela,’ Chanse sounds bemused, ‘that is not friendship behaviour.’

A pit forms in her stomach. She knows he's wrong: she knows Amanda. This is just friendship to her. But there's something new: a seed of hope.

‘She’s like that with everyone,’ Angela says, pushing out a fake laugh as she dismisses Chanse's comment.

‘That’s a lie and you know it.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve known Amanda just as long as you have. That woman has never tried to say goodbye to me like that.’

‘You can just say that you’re jealous, Chanse.’

‘You wish.' 

She opens her mouth to respond, but Spencer interrupts.

‘Quiet on set please,’ he calls, holding up the slate to the camera.

Angela does her best to retain concentration, but she's lost completely, her brain entirely elsewhere. She knows there's no way Amanda sees their friendship in any other light, but Chanse's comments echo in her mind.

It's surprising how quickly seeds of hope can take root.