Olivia's POV

I fidgeted in my seat, twirling a strand of hair around my finger as Logan navigated the busy streets of Los Angeles. The crawling traffic mirrored my churning stomach.

"You alright, Liv?" Logan asked, looking worried.

"Peachy keen," I squeaked nervously. "Just peachy keen jelly bean."

He reached over to squeeze my knee. "You've got this, babe. You're gonna knock their socks off."

I forced a smile, trying to channel his confidence. "Right. Knock their socks off. Maybe I should pack spares, just in case?"

"Now, that would be an audition they'd never forget."

As we neared the studio, I silently rehearsed my lines again. This audition was my big break for a major film role. No pressure.

"Oh god," I groaned, spotting the intimidating gates of the film studio looming ahead. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Not in my car, you're not," Logan teased, pulling into the parking lot. "Seriously though, you've got this. You were born for this role."

"You're right. I can do this. I'm a strong, confident actress who won't make a fool of herself in front of Hollywood bigwigs."

"That's my girl." Logan kissed me sweetly, making me briefly forget my nerves about the audition.

When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine. "Now go in there and show them what Olivia Martinez is made of."

"Right. I'm made of... um, talent? And desperation. Lots of desperation."

Logan laughed, giving me a playful shove. "Get out of here, you goof. Break a leg!"

I climbed out of the car on shaky legs, smoothing down my chosen outfit. As I turned to close the door, Logan called out, "Hey Liv!"

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget to act perfectly!"

"Gee, thanks for the stellar advice. What would I do without you?"

"Probably get lost in the parking lot," he quipped.

I stuck my tongue out at him before slamming the door shut.

I paced, picturing a red carpet to boost my confidence. "You've got this," I whispered. "Be Meryl Streep. Or a cockroach—tough and persistent."

I showed my badge to the bored guard, who waved me through. Winding through hallways, I felt like a fraud among the bustling, perfect-looking people. I was a kid playing dress-up in an adult world.

I finally found the waiting room, packed with other hopefuls all vying for the same role.

"Hi there!" A perky blonde bounced up to me. "I'm Stacy! Are you here for the 'Midnight in Montana' audition too?"

"Yep, that's me. I'm Olivia."

"Isn't this so exciting?" Stacy gushed. "I just know one of us is going to book this. I can feel it!"

"Yeah, totally exciting. Nothing I love more than being judged by strangers first thing in the morning."

"You're hilarious! We should totally hang out sometime."

I barely had time to react before a frazzled assistant burst in. "Olivia Martinez? You're up."

This was it. My moment of truth - or probably, epic failure.

"That's me," I squeaked.

Stacy grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. "All the best, Olivia! You're gonna slay!"

I nodded weakly, considering faking laryngitis. The impatient assistant beckoned, and I stumbled after her like a lamb to slaughter.

We reached a nondescript door, and she gestured for me to enter. "Good luck."

I stepped into the room, blinking against the bright lights. A panel of bored-looking executives sat behind a long table, their expressions ranging from mild disinterest to outright disdain.

"Olivia Martinez?" A woman with a severe bob and expression glanced up from her clipboard.

"That's me," I said, aiming for confidence but sounding terrified. "Hi. Nice weather, huh?"

"Yes. Let's begin. Perform scene 3."

I fumbled with my script, almost dropping it. "Right, of course. Scene 3. Got it."

I opened my mouth, ready to deliver my lines with Oscar-worthy conviction. What came out instead was a strangled squeak that sounded like a deflating balloon.

The executives exchanged glances. "Are you alright, Miss Martinez? Do you need some water?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Just, uh, getting into character. You know, method acting and all that."

I cleared my throat and tried again. This time, words came out, though they bore little resemblance to the script in my hands.

"Listen here, pardner," I drawled in my best cowgirl accent. "This here ranch ain't big enough for the two of us. So why don't you just mosey on outta here before things get uglier than a rattlesnake in a tutu?"

Silence fell over the room. I could practically hear the crickets chirping.

"Miss Martinez, I'm afraid that's not quite the scene we asked you to perform."

I blinked and glanced at my script, horrified to see I'd read the wrong page. "Oh god—gosh darn it. Can I start over?"

"Please do."

I flipped to the correct page. This time, I delivered the actual lines without using cowboy slang or mentioning tutus.

I glanced up at the panel after finishing. Their blank faces could only mean they were stunned by my talent. Definitely not horrified. Nope.

"Well," the woman said after a long pause. "That was certainly... something."

I beamed, ignoring her tone and focusing on 'something,' as if it meant my performance was stellar rather than disastrous.

"Thank you so much for coming in," she continued. "Your acting was... interesting. However, we don't feel you're quite right for this particular role."

My heart sank faster than the Titanic. "Oh," I managed to squeak out. "I see."

The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. I fought the urge to curl up into a ball and disappear.

"We have your contact number, and we'll update you if there's any suitable role in the future."

I nodded mechanically, knowing full well that "we'll update you" was Hollywood's equivalent of "Please never darken our doorstep again."

"Thank you for the opportunity," I said, my voice steady despite my churning insides. "I appreciate your time."

I stumbled out, nearly tripping in my rush. Fumbling with the door, I heard whispers behind me. They were probably mocking my awful audition. I'd likely become a "Worst Auditions Ever" anecdote.

I trudged through the endless hallway, each step like wading through molasses. Other hopefuls in the waiting room barely looked up as I passed, absorbed in their pre-audition jitters.

I burst out of the studio doors, gulping smoggy LA air like a drowning person surfacing. The bright California sun mocked my failure.

"Liv!"

Logan leaned on his car, waving with a dazzling grin. My heart fluttered, briefly forgetting my audition disaster.

I approached, masking my emotions. "Logan? You're still here?"

He shrugged and hugged me. "Couldn't bring myself to leave. How'd it go?"

I buried my face in his chest, inhaling his scent. I considered lying about the audition, but Logan knew me too well - he'd see through any lie.

"I didn't get it," I mumbled.

Logan hugged me tighter. "Aw, babe. I'm sorry. Their loss, right?"

I pulled back with a shaky smile. "Yeah. I'm sure they'll regret it when I'm accepting my Oscar in ten years."

"That's the spirit," Logan said, tucking my hair back.