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“No,” Ashley interrupted. “This is good. I wanna hear. Please, continue.”

“Okay,” Maye exhaled, relieved. “I think it might be really interesting if the two characters who don’t end up with the girl, maybe develop a close friendship, one that they wouldn’t have had if they hadn’t been in this situation where they were both interested in the same girl. And then they realize they have a lot of other similar interests, and they find that they can be vulnerable with each other and support each other. It could be a very healthy, positive type of relationship to include in the story. There is a tendency to perpetuate emotional restriction among potential suitors…”

“I think I like this idea, you guys,” Ashley said as she leaned way onto the table. She spotted someone at the craft services table and waved for them to come over to the table. “Lars,” she said to the lanky man who was carrying an apple and a walkie-talkie. “This is Maye. She just had an idea for these two guys. What if they bond and form their own type of bromance friendship, but like, genuine?”

Lars took a bite of his apple, then nodded and chewed in the same rhythm. He spoke with an accent that sounded like German, Danish, or maybe even Swedish, saying only, “Yah,” and then continued chewing.

“Don’t you just love that Finnish accent?” Marcus said to the group.

Lars became animated, shaking the hand with the apple in it. “I’m a Swede,” he pleaded. “A Finn would not have two words to say.” He crunched another bite of his apple and then shook a finger signaling he had more to say. “So, a close, intimate friendship, like in Alfonso Cuarón’s Y Tu Mamá También, or Ritesh Batra’s The Lunchbox, or, maybe an even better comparison would be Felix van Groeningen and Charlotte Vandermeersch’s The Eight Mountains. Or Le Otto Montagne, as it was originally titled.” He nodded to himself. “I’d like to see a Finn say all that,” he added as he walked away.

No one at the table spoke for a moment until Ashley broke the silence. “So that was our director, Lars.”

“That was the director?” Maye said, panicked. “Isn’t he too busy to hear my silly ideas? Doesn’t he have a movie to make?”

“It’s okay,” Ashley said. “I’m a producer on this project, so I get to throw ideas at him all the time. You know, that was a really good character observation. You seem to have a knack for the creative side of things.”

Alec and Marcus excused themselves to go work on the new relationship dynamic idea. Maye was floating on a cloud. It felt really good to have this mini consultation session. She had never considered herself creative in that way. Growing up around artists, she loved and appreciated the process, but she had not thought much about the creative process behind these holiday TV movies. It was a rewarding and energizing feeling.

“I agree with Ashley,” Chris said. “But how do you show that relationship developing on-screen?”

Maye thought about all ways the characters could have some experiences that allow them to connect and grow their friendship, like going out for drinks where they initially bond over their shared loss, going for a walk outside where they are able to begin offering support to each other and begin to be a little vulnerable with each other, or watching their favorite movies together forming an even deeper bond—

“Because, keep in mind,” Chris continued, “we don’t have a lot of extra minutes to build in new scenes with these characters, and we can’t just pop out to new locations.”

“Hmm…” Maye tapped her chin.

“Can I tell you what I think would happen?” Chris asked. “I think there could be two interactions added between Alec and Marcus where Marcus’s character notices that Alec’s character is disappointed, so he pats him on the back. Then, in the background of another scene, the two can be seen laughing together and fist-bumping.”

“Well…” Maye thought about what she could add to Chris’s ideas given the restriction he mentioned, “I guess that’s better than them ending up mad at each other?”

“So right now, as you’re in it and working out the solution, it sounds good and makes sense, and it feels like you’ve made the story just a little bit better, right?”

“Right,” Maye agreed.

“But as a viewer, if you’re sitting on your couch watching this unfold in front of you, and you are thinking about how the movie should show the whole bromance unfold the way you described it to us, that’s what you want to see, but then you end up seeing the two guys laugh and fist-bump…are you satisfied?”

Maye picked up on what Chris was getting at. “I see what you’re doing. And yes, you’re right, it’s hypocritical. It’s easy to comment from the couch, but it’s different being here.” She looked around the room at the actors she had only seen on TV up to this point, and at the full craft services area, and at the crew members chatting and working out whatever technical challenge they were dealing with at the moment. “It’s very different actually being here.”

Chris looked around at everyone’s plates. “Everyone done eating? Good. Come with me.” He bumped his knees into every part of the kids table as he got up and led Maye and Tracy out of the cafeteria and down a hallway. As they passed a large classroom, Chris paused to show them inside. “Check this out,” he said. “They converted this large classroom into the teacher’s lounge. We have a bunch of scenes in here.”

“Why not use the actual teacher’s lounge?” Tracy asked.

“Yeah, you’d think that would make sense, eh? It’s too small though. It’s easier for them to build out a set with lighting and all the props in the right spots than it is to work around an existing space.”

“Duh, Tracy. Everyone knows that,” Maye joked.

“In this type of movie production business,” Chris continued as they made their way down the hall, dodging equipment and Christmas decorations, “the economics are a huge part. You have to find ways to make your movie for a specific amount of money, and that means restrictions, lots of creativity, but lots of passion. Everyone here knows the mission and everyone is 1,000% bought in.”

As they walked, energy poured out of classrooms where set designers were assembling set pieces, gaffers were adjusting their lighting setups, and key grips were assembling dollies so the cameras could glide across a set. Maye had seen this before growing up around musicians. There were so many people who played a role in putting on a concert, even if they weren’t the ones on stage performing. People who didn’t care what kind of music was being performed, but they loved their job. She had felt that touring with her family when she was young and she could feel it on the movie set.

As Chris led them into the auditorium, he turned to them and said, with his eyes sparkling, almost giddy, “we are about to film one of the most highly anticipated scenes in these movies, the almost kiss.”

Chris may have been almost giddy when he announced this, but Tracy was full-on giddy upon hearing this. Maye grabbed her hand to help bring the shrieking down to an indoor volume.

“Ohmygosh,” Tracy panted. “Yeah, you are definitely a Jolly Junior now, Maye,” she said as Chris led them to the front of the stage.

The auditorium stage had been transformed into a magical winterscape with dozens of glowing Christmas trees and a snowy village scene as the backdrop, which had been hand-painted to look as though elementary students made it. This perfect movie scene was surrounded by lights and cameras and wires and microphones, with tables of production equipment directly in front of the stage. If you put your hands up to your eyes and blocked out all the filming equipment, you could visualize a couple standing together under the moonlight. Their snow-covered cottage behind them, the windows glowing from the warm fireplace inside.