Except...
It’s not terrible.
Not at all.
My head slowly creeps out from behind the shelter of my knees, but I keep my legs pressed firmly together.
Because this is hot.
Nipples peaked and panties damp hot.
Grayson clears his throat again, and I catch him adjusting his jeans. So I’m not the only one who thinks so.
And as the scene continues, as we take off each other’s clothes and fall into bed, I realize it’s not just that the scene is steamy—which it most definitely is—but it also feels sweet and genuine, like our characters are connected and actually have feelings for each other. I watch Grayson kiss my palm, and I suck in an audible breath.
This right here is movie magic.
The scene fades out a minute later, replaced by a blank black screen.
Neither of us says anything for a solid minute.
What is there to say?
Finally, Grayson pushes himself out of his chair and heads toward the door.
“Wait.” I untangle my limbs, falling gracelessly out of my seat. “Liz said we needed to talk and figure things out.”
His voice comes out gravelly and rough, like he just choked on something. “I need some time to myself. I’ll come find you later.” And he pushes out the door, letting it fall shut gently behind him.
I stare in shock at the closed door for thirty seconds before I start to move. If Liz comes back and finds me in here alone, there is going to be hell to pay, and clearly, I will not be spared. After double-checking the hallway to be sure it’s clear, I dart back to my room, sagging with relief when I get the door closed without being caught. Like I’m back in high school, aka the last time Grayson fucking West ruined one of my performances.
All right, maybe it’s not totally fair to lay the blame for my shitty acting at his feet. At least, not entirely. Yes, Grayson is an asshole who has a way of getting in my head, but the truth of the matter is, I let him. I’ve been walking around this set feeling oh-so-superior, and I’ve been just as bad as he’s been. And at least he knows he’s turning in a lackluster performance—he’s even been doing it intentionally. I’m the one who’s deluded herself into thinking I was Oscar worthy.
I finally push off from the door, slipping out of my shoes and pacing around my room.
All right. Time to find a solution. I can’t imagine Grayson will actually take Liz up on her offer to leave. Quitting a movie this far into production is not a good look, and his pride won’t let him be the bad guy here, I’m sure. So that means we have to find a way to work together. What is itthat’s been making it so hard for us to connect? Other than him being a total asshole.
There’s our messy past, of course.
But honestly, I feel far removed from that at this point. Once I got over the shock of seeing him, I didn’t need that past anger, because I had present frustrations to focus on.
There’s his total disregard of me.
That definitely stings, especially after we made some progress while shooting the sex scene.
And there’s the tension.
Which never seems to go away.
Except for when it did.
It went away when we were naked and kissing and vulnerable with each other. The one time Grayson and I have been able to put something on film that doesn’t put us up for Razzies contention was when we were being physically intimate. Our best work came when we were both naked and tangled up together, when we were connecting on a physical level. Chemistry is the one thing we’ve always had, despite all the bad feelings.
I stop in my tracks. The chemistry. The physical connection. The only thing we do well together.
Do we?
Can we?
