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could see Jo-Anne raise her eyebrows.
    Oh yeah. Great start to the audition. They were looking for chemistry , damn it!
    “Okay, guys, we’ll read from page 17. This is where Esther first begins to suspect that Nuriel is more than just another student at college.”
    Lilia strolled over to sit on the bed facing the camera, looking totally at ease, flicking her long, shiny hair over her shoulder. I was still staring down at the script, trying to find my place. Trying to remember what I was supposed to be doing. Yeah, acting. Right.
    “Miles, when you’re ready,” said Jo-Anne, not unkindly. “I need you in camera shot: sit next to Lilia, please.”
    Shit. Of course. This was a film test. Was there anything I could do today that wasn’t moronic? Probably not.
    Jo-Anne turned on the video camera.
    “Three, two, one…”
    “ You don’t sound like you’re from around here …”
    Lilia’s voice was softer now. I looked up. Jeez! Her eyes were really green.
    “Um, Miles?” Jo-Anne’s voice broke into my dreaming.
    I scrambled to find my line.
    “ How do I sound ?” I mumbled. Idiotic – that was how.
    Lilia laughed, natural and carefree. I felt like she was laughing at me. I couldn’t help scowling at her again.
    “ Other than like you’re from another planet? ”
    “ I’m trying… to fit in… but it’s harder than I thought .” Too bloody right.
    “ Why is it so hard? ”
    The next line stuck in my throat. “ The people here are so… different. It’s different from what I thought it would be… I feel… different… ”
    Lilia leaned toward me, staring into my eyes, her forehead wrinkled with concern. When she put her hand on my knee I nearly jumped. Bitch! She knew what she was doing.
    “ Why do you feel different? ”
    “Okay, that’s great, guys,” said Jo-Anne. “Miles, good intensity but could you try it with an American accent this time?”
    Fuck. Of course.

    Clare

    “Oh, come on! Lady Macbeth is just a cipher for Shakespeare’s misogynistic views: all that ‘unsex me’ stuff!”
    I was vaguely aware that Tasha was on a roll. Ever since she’d read ‘Man Made Language’ she saw sexism everywhere. If it was the 70s, she’d be burning her bra, although she’d have to take out the padding first.
    The tutorial room was hot and stuffy, typical of London during a late Spring morning. My jeans were too thick and heavy for the unexpected heat wave and my armpits were already damp. But instead of nodding off while Tasha sparred with Professor Herring, I felt anxious. Miles had emailed me during the night to say that his phone didn’t work and that he was going straight to an audition. The bastards hadn’t even let him recover from the journey. In fact, he’d have had the audition by now and was probably in bed. I tried not to dwell on that tempting image.
    It was really unfair to expect him to perform when he’d been traveling for the best part of 24 hours. He’d said LA would be tough; I just hadn’t realized it would be inhuman.
    “And what is your opinion, Clare?” said Professor Herring, inconsiderately breaking into my worrying.

    Miles

    Second time around I nailed the American accent. Lilia blinked in surprise. I couldn’t help a small smile. Yeah! Bring it on!
    “That was good, Miles,” said Jo-Anne. “Lilia, could you just try your part again: try to sound more concerned and less smug.”
    Smug! Yeah, bitch!
    Lilia frowned. I was liking Jo-Anne a lot at this point.
    We went through the scene one more time. I nailed it again. Yes!
    “Okay, good, you guys,” said Jo-Anne. “Let’s just do the scene in Esther’s bedroom. Page 35, Miles.”
    Bedroom scene? What? Oh, shit. I struggled to find the right page, feeling sweatier and more uncoordinated by the second. What happened in that scene? Fuck – we had to kiss. Thank God for the mints.
    I hated kissing people I worked with. It was so weird, being that intimate with someone you didn’t know – especially sober.