11. Eleven

11

ELEVEN

“ O kay, guys, you need to look interested in one another but not as if you’re ready to jump each other’s bones from the get-go,” Miles informed us as we stood in the warehouse that had been transformed into the speakeasy set. “So, first up is when you brush against one another.”

Miles’s eyes sparkled as he rubbed his hands together. He was clearly getting into this. “Logistically, we want you to be grabbing your drink at the bar, Leo,” he continued. “You’re focused on the bartender.”

“How could I not be with that cleavage bouncing up and threatening to smother me?” Leo muttered under his breath.

I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing. The extra they’d gotten to play the bartender did have the sort of cleavage that made grown men weep and grown women reach for their backs because they recognize the type of pain that would be associated with hauling around those breasts.

“I think they’re fairly impressive,” I countered as I smoothed the front of my dress. I was supposed to be a splash of color in the darkness. That’s what Miles kept saying anyway. They’d opted for a bright pink dress that hugged my every curve, making me wish I’d taken it easy when eating breakfast earlier. I kept having to suck in my gut when leaning. It was making me distracted. “I’m glad I don’t have them, though.” I looked down at the vee that plunged toward my navel. “I wouldn’t be able to keep them contained in this thing.”

Leo rubbed his cheek. “It is a bit bright. At least you wouldn’t get lost in a crowd.”

“I wouldn’t get lost in ten crowds.”

He chuckled.

“Are you guys even listening to me?” Miles complained. “I don’t think you are.”

“Actually, we are,” Leo replied. He grabbed my waist and positioned me on the path I was supposed to use to walk through the extras. “Sam is here. My back is to her.” He turned to demonstrate. “I get my drink.” He bobbed his head and acted as if he was enjoying small talk with the bartender. “She hands me my drink. You count off to three. I turn and Sam and I come face to face.”

Miles nodded. “That’s basically it in a nutshell,” he agreed. “How are you going to react to one another, though?”

“I thought I would do the Twilight thing and pretend she stinks,” Leo replied without missing a beat.

I slapped his arm and gave him an incredulous look. “I don’t stink.”

“Hey, that reaction worked for millions of teenage girls.”

“I do so appreciate it when men flare their nostrils at me,” I deadpanned. “He’ll be a bull about to charge.”

“You’ll be the big pink flag instead of the red one,” Leo agreed.

“I’m being serious,” Miles complained. “This is a big deal. It’s the first time your characters are seeing one another. You have to sell the chemistry.”

Chemistry was clearly not a problem between Leo and me. All I’d been feeling was chemistry with this man since we first met. Sure, it wasn’t always good chemistry. It was chemistry, nonetheless. Unfortunately, real-world chemistry didn’t always transfer to the big screen. Some real-world couples fell flat together.

Not that we were a real-world couple or anything.

We were friends. Nothing more.

So why did my heart start pitter-pattering like a middle school girl talking to her crush for the first time when we said our goodbyes the previous evening? I swear I was one dimpled smile away from dragging him into my room and letting the liquor do the talking. I hadn’t even been that drunk. Just tipsy enough that I could’ve used it as an excuse. Thankfully, that didn’t happen.

I was thankful for that, right? I honestly couldn’t decide.

“We’re not going to know how we’re going to play it until we go through it a few times,” Leo said. “You can’t force us to give you chemistry until we get into the groove. It’s not as if you’re going to take the first take.”

“No.” Miles cocked his head. “You’re right. I just … this is a very important scene.”

“You telling us that over and over again doesn’t make us relax into our roles,” Leo argued. “Just … let us get a couple of bad takes out first. You’ll feel better when you actually see us working through it, won’t you?”

“I guess.” Miles didn’t look convinced. Ultimately, he started shaking his head. “Actually, I’m looking for magic.”

“Geez,” Leo muttered under his breath.

“He’s just excited,” I argued. “Let him be excited.”

“He’s being ridiculous. It’s a vampire show. We’re not exactly going to win awards for it.”

All of the good will Leo had worked up over the past day and a half disappeared in an instant. It was clear he was doing his best not to disparage the production. When he let his guard down, however, little comments continued to escape. I hated it.

“Stop being an ass,” I snapped before realizing I was going to lose my cool. “Just … stop it and commit.”

He slid his eyes to me. “I am committing.”

We glared at each other. If the room had been a little cooler, steam would’ve started rising. As far as Leo and I were concerned, we were the only two people in the room as we murdered each other with the sort of glares that would be reserved for enemies, not friends.

“There!” Miles snapped his finger. “That right there. That’s exactly how I want you two to look at each other.”

I didn’t take my stare away from Leo. “Something tells me we can make it work,” I replied.

“Oh, definitely,” Leo agreed. The softness he’d been showing me for the past thirty-six hours was nowhere to be found. “We can definitely make this work. You have nothing to fear.”

“Great.” Miles hopped from one foot to the other. “You guys need to hit your marks before you give each other the stare, though.” He was nervous again.

“Gladly,” Leo said as he turned away from me and faced the cleavage queen. “Let’s get this over with. We still have two more scenes to shoot and the second is endless chains of dialogue. It’s going to take forever.”

“Get ready,” Miles called out. “When I say action, you have to start working through the crowd, Sam. Don’t speak to anybody. I want your first words to be to Leo. You can smile and nod, though. Just don’t do too much of it.”

They were the sort of instructions I’d gotten a hundred times. I merely nodded. “I’ve got this. Let’s roll.”

“Here we go. Quiet on the set.” Miles looked thrilled to be in control and be able to admonish everybody. “Places. And … action.”

IT ONLY TOOK US FOUR TIMES TO GET through the opening scene. Miles was actually in love with our first take, which gave me pause. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Miles—he had a reputation for being a talented up-and-comer—but no director was ever happy with the first take. Miles was positively giddy, though.

Despite that, he made us film it three more times just to be sure. Then we moved on to the next scene.

“Okay, you guys are in the corner here in the circular booth,” Miles said. “Leo offered to buy you a drink. You said yes, but you’re still clearly nervous, Sam. You’re a powerful witch who has never had any trouble protecting herself, but there’s something about this man that worries you. There’s an energy brewing between you that you can’t ignore.”

I swear, it was as if he was talking to Sam and Leo instead of our onscreen counterparts. Right when he was saying “there’s an energy brewing between you that you can’t ignore” I snagged gazes with Leo, who was back to being cold as a popsicle, and found him in an unguarded moment. He was giving me the same look I was giving him.

Then he snapped out of it quickly and focused on Miles. I had no choice but to do the same.

“Just talk regularly for a second,” Miles ordered when the cameraman said something to him I couldn’t quite make out over the fans. The warehouse should’ve been drafty and frigid. It was starting to heat up, though. “We need to readjust the lighting.”

I offered up my blandest smile for Leo’s benefit. “Are you having fun yet?” I had no idea why I was poking the bear, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

“Yes, it’s a laugh riot,” Leo agreed. “There’s nothing better than sitting in an unnaturally lit warehouse for hours on end.” He leaned back on the uncomfortable booth seat. Sets were meant to look good, not necessarily function outside of the aesthetic.

“You’re falling in love with me already,” I said. “I can feel it.”

He didn’t bother to hide his eye roll. “Have you ever considered what crap it is that a creature that has been alive for centuries would actually want to hang out with a twenty-something woman?”

The question rankled…even though I’d often wondered it myself. “I happen to think that my character has a lot of wisdom for her age. She was raised by witches. It’s not as if she spent all of her time going to dances and mooning over boys.”

“And yet your entire character arc in the first episode is mooning over a vampire.”

“Technically, I’m not supposed to realize you’re a vampire until the fifth episode. That’s the cliffhanger.”

His glare was withering. “I know. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m a vampire and your character basically falls for my looks.”

“Um … right back at you. It’s not as if my character has shown any substance yet.” I made a sniffing noise. “It’s coming, though. I’ve read all the scripts. I have a great arc. You just sit around and brood.”

“I can brood better than most people.”

“I think you were born to brood,” I agreed. “That seems to be your go-to move.”

“Is this because I said it was just a vampire show? I already apologized for that.”

I was being petulant. I recognized it. He did things to me that I couldn’t explain, though. He made me uncomfortable in my own skin. Sure, I wasn’t the prettiest actress in the world—that slope was a daunting one to climb—but it wasn’t my looks holding me back. It wasn’t my talent either. I knew I was talented. This was the sort of business where you had to be at the exact right place at the exact right time, though. Even Brad Pitt had to be in the right place to get discovered. It just hadn’t happened to me yet, though. It might never happen. I was resigned to that.

Despite all that, despite never looking in the mirror and hating what I saw, whenever Leo looked at me, I was self-conscious to the point of distraction. He acted as if he was doing me a favor whenever he deigned to talk to me.

“I just don’t need your attitude,” I complained. “You’re constantly looking down your nose at this production. It’s ridiculous … and unnecessary … and you’re a total donkey.”

To my utter surprise—we were in the middle of a verbal spat after all—his lips quirked. He didn’t look as if he was upset by the statement in the least. “Why do you say ‘donkey’ instead of ‘ass’?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s something my mother always said when I was growing up.”

“I’m guessing you weren’t allowed to curse in your house.”

“Definitely not,” I agreed. “I once said the S-word when talking about my grandmother’s tuna noodle casserole, and I was grounded for a week.”

“As in it tasted like shit?”

“Yup.” I sighed. “I also had to eat two servings of it that night to prove that I didn’t really hate my grandmother’s cooking. My mother said it was my penance for being rude.”

“Did she call your father a donkey when they fought?”

“Yup. My dad knew he was in trouble whenever she unleashed the D-word.”

“Geez.” Leo reached up to press the heel of his hand to his forehead but stopped himself before he made contact. They would have to fix his makeup if he screwed it up, which meant this scene would take even longer to film.

“What about your parents?” I asked without thinking. “Were you allowed to swear?”

“My parents didn’t care what I did,” he replied. “As long as I wasn’t in their hair, they were happy.” He didn’t look at me when he said it.

Guilt that I didn’t want to feel—he really was a donkey more often than not and needed to be taken down a peg or two—flooded my stomach and rolled into a tight ball. He clearly didn’t want to talk about his parents. Even though I was curious, it wasn’t my place to dig into things he didn’t want brought up.

“Well, you’re a donkey,” I said, forcing the conversation back on track. “You say you want to be friends, but you’re a jerk. I can’t be friends with a jerk.”

“I really wasn’t trying to be a jerk. It just slipped out.”

“You should think before you speak.”

“And you shouldn’t let every little thing upset you,” he fired back. “You paint yourself as a constant victim. Not everything I say is meant to hurt you.”

It was his vehemence that shook me the most. He clearly meant what he was saying. “I don’t play the victim,” I said finally.

“You don’t play the victim as if you’re constantly being hurt by everybody around you,” he clarified. “That would make you intolerable … and you’re clearly not intolerable.”

“Thank you.” I pressed my hand to the spot above my heart. “That might be the nicest thing anybody has ever said about me. I should put that on my résumé.”

“That right there.” He bobbed his head. “You’re good at the sneaky sarcasm. You’re self-deprecating and charming most of the time, too. You just have a bug up your butt whenever I say anything about this production and act as if I’m coming after you personally.”

He leaned close. “Fun fact, Sam, people complain about work. It’s natural. I don’t mean to hurt you.” He added the next part out of nowhere. “I would never purposely hurt you.”

I opened my mouth to respond and then shut it. His words had hit home. “I’m sorry,” I said finally. It was hard for me to figure out exactly what I wanted to say. “I didn’t mean to be such a drama queen. It’s just … you say mean things.”

“I was mean to you on the plane,” he corrected. “I honestly didn’t mean to be that obnoxious. I was just … feeling sorry for myself that day. I had other stuff going on. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

The busybody in me wanted to ask what he’d been upset about. It’s not your business. I had to tell myself that three times before I could collect myself. “I need to stop holding your initial response to me against you. That’s not fair. You’ve apologized. It’s just…you’re just…”

“Handsome?” he asked on a wink.

“That is not what I was going to say.” That didn’t mean it wasn’t true. He was handsome. Like … disturbingly so. So often with stars, their good looks didn’t translate in the real world. I’d met plenty of stars who I’d always thought looked perfect. That was makeup … or camera filters. Leo, unfortunately, looked as good in person as he did on the screen.

It was annoying.

“Your attitude on the plane rubbed me the wrong way from the start,” I said finally. “It’s not your fault that I’m in this predicament, though, and I really need to stop taking it out on you. It’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. I learned that at a young age.”

There was that vulnerable side of him again. I was a nurturer, so it made me want to cuddle him close, stroke his hair, and tell him everything would be okay. I didn’t, of course—that would be ridiculous—but it made me rethink my attitude.

“I think the problem is that your bad attitude—when you have it on display—mixes poorly with my bad attitude,” I admitted finally.

“I didn’t think you ever had a bad attitude,” Leo teased. “Aren’t you a sunshine girl?”

“I am. I want to look at life through rose-colored glasses. Sure, as I get older, that gets more difficult. It’s what I want, though. I want to be the sort of person who doesn’t start off a conversation by saying ‘you know what I hate?’”

Leo seemed to be intent on me as I talked. When he cocked his head to consider it, the antsy feeling came back with a vengeance. “You are that sort of person,” he said finally. “I’m the one who isn’t. I’ll do better. I’ll stop making cracks about the show.”

“And I’ll stop being such a baby when you do inadvertently make a crack. You can’t help who you are.”

“It wasn’t a dig at you,” he reminded me.

“I know. You just bring out the worst in me sometimes.”

His expression was hard to read. “I’ll stop trying to bring out the worst in you,” he said finally. “I don’t want to be the one to steal the sunshine from others.”

“Or you could let some of the sunshine invade your cold, black heart and become a sunshine guy,” I suggested.

“Yeah, that’s never going to happen.”

“Never say never.”

“Actually, on that front, I can say it. I’m not a happy guy. I’ll try not to drag you down with me, though. It’s the best that I can do.”

It wasn’t enough. I wanted him to find some joy in life. How could I make that happen, though?