But I’m happy to see he’s breathing just as heavily as I am.
This is all pretend. None of this is real. This is all pretend. None of this is real.
I fall back onto the bed, pulling Grayson down on top of me.
Tomorrow we’ll be bare chest to bare chest, but today, even with layers of fabric between us, my heart pounds out an accelerated rhythm his matches. Somewhere in the back of my brain I know Liz and Clare are watching us, making note of every move we make.
But I focus only on Grayson. On the lightning blue of his eyes. On the slight tilt of a smile he flashes before lowering his head and kissing me again. On the heat of his fingers as they trail over my chest, discernible even through the cotton of my shirt and the padding of my bra.
“Okay, and we’ll go ahead and stop there.” Liz’s voice echoes in the empty room.
Grayson and I part immediately.
He hops off the bed like the mattress just caught fire.
And in the meantime, I’m left lying there like a dead-brained zombie.
Liz offers me her hand, pulling me up, the smirkiest of smirks on her face.
By the time I make it back to standing, Grayson is across the room, as far away from me as he could possibly be.
And suddenly the heat rushes out of my body and I’m so cold I legitimately shiver.
I’m fifteen and starring in my first movie and scared and awkward and intimidated by my incredibly good-looking costar who I’ve had a crush on from the beginning; I’m feeling every emotion when he gives me my first kiss—on-screen or otherwise—and I’m mortified when he pulls away from me like my breath is rancid and I have BO.
“Hey.” Liz’s hands grip my forearms. “You okay?”
I nod, not because I am, but because I need to pretend to be.
She bends her knees a little so we’re eye to eye. “Em. Are you okay?”
I clear my throat and shake off her hands. Grayson might have bolted across the room to get away from me, but he can still see me, can still hear our conversation. “I’m fine. Should we go again?”
Grayson grimaces, running a hand through his hair and over his beard.
Like the thought of running the scene again makes him ill.
Liz studies me for a second. “No, I think we’re good for today.”
He races from the room the second we’re dismissed.
Liz looks like she wants to keep me there, probably to ask me if I’m okay for the third time.
But I don’t give her the chance. I pull myself together for approximately ten seconds, saying polite goodbyes to both Clare and Liz before calmly walking out of the room.
As soon as I’m clear of the set, I speed up the stairs and down the hall, needing to be in the comfort and security and silence of my own room. But when I turn the corner,he’s there, standing in front of his door across the hall from my own.
I take a deep breath and keep walking, turning my back to him and inserting my key.
“Emmy...”
“Please, don’t. I can’t continue to do my job if you’re going to mock me, and I need to continue to do my job.” My voice is as small as he’s made me feel.
His steps thud on the polished wood floor, and I can feel him behind me. “I’m not going to mock you. I would never.”
I spin around, desperate to catch the lie in his eyes. “Well, you already did.”
His face scrunches up like he has no idea what I’m talking about.
