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6
KYLA
Walking on the movie set was like nothing else I’d done in my life.
I was completely unprepared for how professional it looked: the bright lights; the director sitting in a fold-up chair; the men talking behind him; the cameras on dollys, the monitors where they could watch the footage.
We were shooting in a cafe, and they’d hung slime-green sheets outside the windows, blocking our view of the overgrown gardens outside, and the fold-out doors on the porch had been opened to make room for the cameras and crew.
They had restored the cafe to look fully functional, with coffee machines, ceramic cups and tablecloths.
The assistant director was a short man with gray hair and a no-nonsense attitude. He approached us as soon as the woman led us through the door.
“You’re all diners.” He gestured at the tables behind him. “Take a seat, and when Preston says, ‘background’, pantomime a conversation with your partners as you pretend to eat.”
He stepped back as we pulled out chairs and sat on them. I was at a round table with April and two older extras, and there were already teacups, plates, and forks in front of us.
The assistant director’s instructions were simple, but now, sitting in front of the cameras, I wasn’t sure if I could do it. What if my hands trembled? What if I dropped the cup? What if I sneezed — or worse,farted?
“Relax,” April hissed. “You look constipated!”
I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself, but my anxiety came rushing back when, fifteen minutes later, Dean, Isaac, Wyatt, and Brooke walked into the cafe. Dean’s eyes found mine, but he looked away, focused on his job. Brooke didn’t even glance in my direction, but seeing her brought back all the shock and fear I’d felt when she yelled at me earlier. Especially since she had the script I’d returned in her hand.
She and Dean sat at the table behind April, while Isaac and Wyatt waited in the crew area for their cue to enter the scene.
Preston held a megaphone up to his mouth and a tiny woman moved in front of the camera with a clapperboard.
“Roll camera,” Preston said, and the camera operator called out, “Rolling!”
The tiny woman snapped the clapperboard and moved out of the way. Preston watched the monitor.
“Background.”
I picked up the cup and tried to keep my hands steady as I pretended to drink from it. It was empty, like all the others, and I reminded myself not to look at the cameras or the lead actors as thoughts of doubt ran through my mind.
Did this look natural? Was I licking my lips too much? Swallowing too fast? I’d been drinking coffee for years without thinking about it, but now that I had to pretend, I couldn’t remember what the exact steps were, or what order I did them in.
It didn’t help that Dean and Brooke were right behind April, so close I could almost touch them.
“Action!”
It took every ounce of my self-control to avoid staring at Dean and Brooke as they delivered their lines. April and I mimed a real conversation between sips of imaginary coffee.
Am I doing this right?I mouthed to April. She watched me for a moment, considering her answer, and nodded.
Perfect.She leaned forward and gave me a devious smile.I bet Dean has a huge cock.
My mouth fell open. She couldn’t say that! There was every chance we were in frame, and this footage of us would be in the final movie.
Stop it!
Why?April teased and flashed me an evil grin.The camera’s focused on them — we’re not even in the shot.Besides, you were thinking the same thing, weren’t you?
I glanced at the back of Dean’s head. His hair was thick and wavy, and the self-assured way he moveddidgive me big dick vibes, but saying that — even mouthing it — felt dangerous. The cameras were behind me, and I had no way of knowing how visible my face was, or whether I was in the frame. I held my teacup to block my lips from the cameras.
I bet you’re right, I mouthed to April.I bet he’s hung like an elephant.
Preston called, “Cut!” and I froze. Had he seen me? I turned around. Behind the camera, he spoke to the assistant director, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. Yep, I had no doubt that we were the problem, until Brooke picked up the copy of the script I’d returned to Dean and started reading it.
