I want to glare at her, but the teasing glint in her eye brings me close to a smile. “In my defense, I never imagined said scene would involve Grayson fucking West.”
“Is that really what you want to call him right now?” She purses her lips like she’s holding back laughter.
A giggle finally escapes me. “I’ve been calling him that in my head this whole time. I never really thought about that terribly coincidental context.”
She laughs along with me, not at me. “Not going to lie, Emmy: most people who are attracted to men would not be mad at the prospect of cozying up to Grayson West.”
My laugh sours in my stomach. “Yeah. Well, most people don’t have our history.”
She raises one perfect eyebrow. “Care to expand on that?”
I sigh, picking up my pen and tapping it on the table. “We did a movie together when we were teenagers. Barely anyone saw it, so I don’t expect people to realize, but it was a disaster. We had this one big kiss scene, and it was my first kiss—ever. We had been flirting with each other on set, and I’d built up this huge crush on him and just couldn’t wait to get to that moment.”
“And he was a terrible kisser?”
“No.” I shrug and drop the pen. “Or, well, I don’t know really. I didn’t have much to compare it to. But I kind of freaked out afterward because I was so nervous. I think I’d just built it all up in my head to be something much bigger than it was, so when he didn’t immediately declare his love for me as soon as the director called cut, it felt like some kind of rejection. I bolted from the set the first chance I got. Later that day I heard him telling a bunch of the other cast members thatIwas a terrible kisser and that the only reason I’d gotten the job was because of my parents.”
It was like he knew exactly where to stab to make me bleed the most. And—not that I’ll ever admit this out loud to anyone ever—even with my limited experience, I knew our kiss was anything but terrible. To me, it had been nothing short of magical, and to learn that Grayson didn’t feel the same way—in a public setting, no less—was soul-crushing. But I don’t think it’s that part that still smarts all these years later. It’s more the knowledge that everyone on set believed my greatest fear—that I hadn’t truly earned my role in the film, or lived up to the hype that came along with casting me.
“Ah. I might have read something about that on social media.” Jenna buries her gaze in her coffee cup, as if she’sembarrassed to admit she was looking at the gossip rags, even though we all do it.
“Yeah. It got picked up by some of the trashier sites, and the rumors sort of dominated filming. It was all anyone could talk about. Grayson completely shut me down after that. Wouldn’t even talk to me, really.” I hesitate for a second, not sure how completely vulnerable I want to get with someone I still don’t know very well, no matter how awesome she seems to be. But I decide to trust my gut, and something tells me Jenna will keep my secrets. “It really got in my head, all the surrounding chatter and his rejection, plus the knowledge that no one thought I’d actually earned my role. I let it affect my performance. Critics ripped it apart, and I haven’t acted since.”
Jenna lets out a low whistle. “Sheesh. And here I was thinking this was all due to some unresolved sexual tension.”
I laugh again, but this time it’s humorless. “Oh god no. The opposite, in fact.” Even though just the phrase “sexual tension” is enough to bring to mind the way Grayson’s breath tickled my ear, how the smell of him invaded every one of my senses.
“So you’re definitely not looking forward to tomorrow then? Not even a little bit?” Her gaze pierces me like an X-ray machine, even though her questions sound completely nonjudgmental.
“Not even a sliver of a little bit.” I down the final dregs of my latte. “Have you ever shot a sex scene before?”
“Oh yeah. Never with anyone as hot as Grayson though.” She laughs at my eye roll.
“Any advice?”
Her head tilts, and she scrunches up her nose in the most adorable way. “Really, you just have to approach it like you would any other scene. There’s blocking to focus on, so think about the movements and how your character feels in the moment, all the usual stuff. Oh, and you need to trust your scene partner, of course.”
I grimace, earning another laugh from Jenna. “Oh yes, just that one little final detail.” I let my head flop onto the table. “Tomorrow is going to suck.”
“Again, you might want to think about your phrasing there...”
I wad up a piece of scratch paper and throw it at her.
She pats my hand. “You’ll be fine. I promise, the whole thing will feel so clinical and absolutely unsexy, you won’t even care that your partner is your archnemesis.”
I sit up straight. “Ihavealways wanted an archnemesis.”
“That’s the spirit!” She pushes back her chair and stands. “Try not to think about it, and the whole thing will be over before you know it.”
“Thanks, Jenna. I appreciate your support.”
“Anytime.” With a half wave and a smile, she’s off, pushing through the front door of the café and letting in a cold wind.
I read through the schedule one more time, trying to think about the whole thing objectively. It’s just another scene, nothing to worry or fret about. I will show up and be professional, just like I have with every other scene Grayson and I have filmed together.
And I’m sure he will show up and be a complete and utter ass, just like with every other scene we have filmed together.
I try to hold on to the sliver of positive vibes Jenna bestowed upon me as I shut down my laptop and pack up my stuff. But the more I imagine what’s to come over the next couple of days, the more I can only see the negatives. I use the short drive back to the inn to mentally complain to an imaginary Liz about all the things I would never say to the actual Liz, because, of course, it is 100 percent her fault I’m in this position in the first place. If only she didn’t make me take this stupid role. If only we pushed harder to find a different replacement for Jonathan. If only, if only. By the time I’m stomping up the stairs and back to my room, my vision is about as red as my cheeks undoubtedly are, judging by the angry flush I feel everywhere, all over my body.
