Heather
Yes, but listen to me. After all these script changes and what happened with that trainer, at least let me bring in additional security, and we’ll get Sarah as an intimacy coordinator!
Reese
There aren’t any intimate scenes. You’re overreacting.
Heather
Overreacting? That bruise on your arm from yesterday’s shoot was absolutely horrific! Think about the national Diamond Essence campaign we’re going to be filming in October.
Reese
I promise I won’t be bruised up come October.
Heather
You’re missing the point. Felix is pushing you too hard, and it’s not allowed. I can sue him for endangering my talent.
Reese
Heather, it was an accident during the fight scene. I’m fine.
Heather
I won’t let some patronizing patriarchal director derail your big move into a new genre. This is about protecting your career. I’ve got three other scripts hot on my desk right now—all action roles, all powerful female characters. We put an opt-out clause in this contract for a reason.
Please, Reese.
Reese
I appreciate you looking out for me, but I can handle Felix. This is the role I want, and I’m not walking away. Trust me on this one.
In twenty-five days, I’ll either prove myself worthy of playing Robyn Hood or confirm Felix’s doubts about casting me.
The scene that terrifies me most looms ahead: diving headfirst off a moving raft into freezing water to retrieve my sword after being disarmed while battling the king’s army. Two days of shooting. Extremely limited windows for the full moon that’s needed for the shot. There can’t be any mistakes.
An entire production crew is counting on me.
People’s time and efforts. The budget.
I put my phone back into my bag and take off my sweatshirt, standing in the pajamas I woke up in. I kick off my shoes next. The lake stretches before me in the early morning light, deceptively peaceful. Sunlight dances across its surface, creating a masterpiece of golden ripples that would take any normal person’s breath away. But it takes mine away for a different reason. My chest tightens looking at it.
I pull myself off the rocky ledge and walk toward the lake, digging my toes into the damp earth at the water’s edge. My heart pounds.
Heather’s doubts echo in my mind, her well-meaning concerns making me feel like that same naive actress who needed her hand held through every decision. But I’m not that girl anymore.Maybe I should’ve woken up Ramsey to watch over me, but I want to do this alone.
I’m Robyn Hood—or at least, I’m supposed to be.
Her character should embody a revolutionary force, fighting for justice and building a family out of society’s rejects. She’s a warrior who sacrifices everything to help people who can’t help themselves. But Felix’s gutless vision has stripped away her essence. The searing commentary on gender barriers and systemic corruption? Completely erased.
Now it’s me running through forests in outfits that keep getting tighter, trying not to lose my fake eyelashes during slow-motion fight scenes.
At yesterday’s premiere ofLove and Loathing, the reporters’ whispers were draining.Is she doing her own stunts forRobyn Hood? Is she still hooking up with Jaxon Elio?And then the questions.Who are you wearing? How did you manage to fit into that dress? Are you planning to start a family soon? How long did hair and makeup take? Is it intimidating to work with such a powerful male director in your new role?
No one takes romance films seriously, as if falling in love makes you weak or shallow. The industry dismisses them with contempt, as if exploring the depths of human connection is somehow lesser than violence and spectacle.
There’s nothing wrong with romance films. I loved being in them. But I’ve only been offered big roles in picture-perfect fairy tales with neat and tidy happily-ever-afters. Stories where trust is never tested, where love conquers all without cost. Producers don’t want to see me portray the devastating reality of how relationships can wound us. The tears, the heartache, the longing that makes love stories truly potent.
