She gestures for me to sit in one of the armchairs arranged in front of her TV.
“Lizzie, I—”
“Nope. No talking.”
My mouth stays open, frozen in position. Okay then. I guess I’ll put a pin in that check-in.
Grayson knocks on the door a few minutes later, on time for once. He folds himself into the chair next to me without a word of greeting.
Liz perches on the low top of her dresser, arms crossed, managing to stare down both of us at the same time. “I’vebeen exceedingly patient with the two of you. To be honest, I probably let this go on for longer than I should have, but I let myself believe you would come to your senses without my intervention.”
I open my mouth to protest because I am clearly an innocent party in all of this and certainly don’t require any patience or intervention from Liz. But she shuts me down with one tight stare before I can even squeak out a single word.
“I get that this is not the situation we hoped for or planned for. Please trust me when I say I tried everything to make sure we didn’t end up here. But here we are.” She turns her attention to Grayson, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I know this movie is out of your wheelhouse, West. But you knew what you were signing up for. And you knew who you were signing up with. I’m not going to let your shitty attitude kill a movie that literally hundreds of people have a stake in. Be a professional, or get out.”
I purse my lips together, trying for a half second to hide my smug smile before I give in and let it take over my face. I turn it full force to my left, thrilled to see Grayson sinking as low as possible in his chair, chastened and humbled as he should be.
“And you.”
My blood freezes as Liz turns her wrath toward me. Which is not how this conversation was supposed to go at all.
“You are my best friend, and I love you. But you begged me to take on this project because it’s so personal to you, and I did, and now I need you to pull your weight. I getthat circumstances are not ideal, but some actual acting needs to happen here, Em. I won’t allow you to tank our movie either.”
My mouth drops open, and I’m not sure whether I should be shocked or angry. Both? Nope, angry it is. Definitely angry. “You meanmymovie?”
Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t back down from my unflinching gaze. “You may have written it, but it belongs to all of us now. Investors, producers, your fellow castmates, your crew.” Her eyes start to ping-pong back and forth between me and Grayson. “This is not about the two of you. You’re actors. If you don’t like each other, pretend.” She turns around to grab the remote and flips on the TV. “Now, here’s the plan. The two of you are going to sit and watch. You are going to come to some sort of agreement about how you would like to proceed. And then tomorrow, you will show up on set and make a goddamn adorable romantic comedy. Where you convince people you actually like each other.”
I shoot Grayson a look out of the corner of my eye. He’s still sulking, hunched in on himself and practically curled up in his chair.
Liz’s voice softens the tiniest bit. “I know you both are capable of turning in amazing performances.” She hits play on the remote. “Just get over your bullshit already.”
And with that, she strides out of the room, letting the door thud shut behind her.
I sneak another peek at Grayson, but he’s still pretending like I’m not here, so I do the same, turning my eyes to the screen in front of us.
The moment the image pops up, it becomes clear whatLiz is doing. I watch myself push open the door of the coffee shop, full Isobel attitude in place. I watch Grayson fumble with making a latte, zero Josh characterization evident.
And my smug smile comes back. Liz might have come down equally hard on both of us, but clearly she is still Team Emmy. I understand her goal here: make Grayson watch the footage of himself, see how terrible a job he’s doing, and hope that finally brings him around.
By the end of the meet-cute scene, my smile is so wide I probably look like a scary jack-o’-lantern. I nailed that first scene, and Grayson bombed it. I sit up a little straighter in my seat as the next scene plays. It’s one where Josh and Isobel are starting to realize their feelings for each other, where Isobel is supposed to be softening toward him.
But nothing about my performance is soft. Grayson still plays the scene with no emotion or inflection, but I just sound mean. Like I hate him. Which, to be fair, I do. But Isobel doesn’t hate Josh, not at this point, anyway.
By the third scene, which is meant to be another romantic moment, I sink back into my chair, smug smile completely wiped from my face. It’s more of the same. Nothing from Grayson; anger from me.
By the fourth, I’ve pulled my legs up to my chest, arms wrapped around them to make myself as small as possible, my chin tucked behind my knees so I can watch and hide at the same time.
I don’t dare watch Grayson watch this footage.
Because I’ve been blaming him this whole time, but in reality, my performance is just as bad. And yeah, I could blame my anger on his total lack of participation, but if I were truly doing my job as an actor, I would still beturning in good work. And this work sucks. On both our parts.
Grayson clears his throat, drawing my full attention back to the screen.
Where we’re suddenly locked together in a passionate kiss.
Oh god.
What’s more mortifying than realizing you’re a terrible actor? Watching your terrible sex scene.
