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“Just like yesterday. Be in the moment. Use your body language to communicate. They’ll dub Celia’s voice in, but it’ll be the back of your body that’s captured on film.”
He takes a step in my direction, and a shiver runs up my spine as he comes to a stop just a foot away. I can feel the tension between us. The magnetic pull he has on me.
“Okay,” I hear Ansen say from somewhere in the distance. “You’re in the lobby of the hotel. Cel— I mean, Taylor, you’re upset that Jackson is paying for the trip without your permission. This is your first real fight. I need to see the passion in the way you interact with him. We all know who your mother is …”
His voice fades away as reality slaps me across the face.
Right. My mother.
A talented actress.
And because of that little fact, everyone expects me to possess the same talent.
“And, action!”
Pushing my fears aside, I give the scene everything I’ve got. I pour all my emotions into it. I let my body tell a story that words never could. I’m angry and it shows. You can hear how irritated I am in the timbre of my voice.
All it takes is the mention of my mother to get me worked up. Thankfully, that’s what the scene calls for.
It’s when Eli places his hand on my cheek that my body betrays me.
A shiver runs up my spine. I lean into his touch. Relish in the feel of his warmth against my skin.
And as he leans in, I give myself permission to kiss him. To let myself feel for the next few minutes. Because this is acting. We’re not Eli and Taylor right now. We’re Jackson and Jessa. I’m not even sure if the scene calls for them to kiss but I hope it does. This might be the only chance I get.
“Cut!”
But Eli doesn’t pull back immediately. Instead, it’s as if he’s stuck between two impossible decisions. Pull back and move on to film the next scene or continue toward me and press his lips to mine.
I’m stuck right there with him. Wanting him to back away. Praying he won’t come any closer. For my sanity. So I don’t jump off the diving board, into the deep end, headfirst into an empty swimming pool. Because I feel like a kiss from Eli is going to turn my world upside down.
But I’m also curious about what it would be like if he did move closer. Would my head spin? My knees weaken? I can barely keep myself upright in his presence as it is, what would happen if his lips touched mine? Would I melt into a puddle at his feet?
“Okay,” Ansen says, interrupting our moment, making Eli’s decision for him.
When he steps away, I let out the breath I was holding and avert my eyes to my feet. To the X marked on the floor in silver duct tape.
“I want to do that one more time, and then we’ll move on to the next scene.”
His words cause my stomach to lurch. Because I know what happens in the next scene. Jessa and Jackson share a passionate make up kiss.
I’m about to protest when Celia breezes passed, announcing her arrival as she rushes off toward hair and makeup. Relief washes through me while I tug the wig off my head and walk off the set, handing it to the costume designer. The compliment she gives me is nothing more than a murmur blending in with the chaos around me.
It’s the chaos inside of me that is the loudest though.
“Why doesyour cup say Eli on it?”
Five seconds. Maybe ten.
When I saw Celia approaching the lunch buffet, I attempted to avoid her. Her and Eli just finished re-filming the scene Eli and I nailed on the first take. It took five attempts for her to get it right. Watching her get upset with herself every time she forgot a line or screwed up her marker was interesting. Her irritation felt over the top for the errors she was making.
Then it was brought to my attention she had watched us the entire time we were filming before she made her grand entrance. Her face was bright red in anger when she saw it was me standing in in her absence.
Not that I had a choice.
I was volunteered.
I doubt anyone gave her that tidbit of information, and I guarantee she didn’t ask how I ended up wearing her wig.
