Chapter 4 Pravat
CHAPTER FOUR: Pravat
The lovely man dancing with me, teasing me about my lack of rhythm while moving his lithe body gracefully to the beat of the music, doesn’t look anything like the person who arrived at the workshop, standing rigidly while looking at everyone with a guarded expression.
I’m not the only one struck by the transformation—the rest of the cast watches Rama with bemused expressions. The look in Tait’s eyes when I briefly meet them tells me he’s fully aware of what I’m doing. He should be. He’s been to clubs enough with me in the past to know I’m a decent dancer.
After taking a break for a drink of water, I suggest a drawing exercise to Rama.
Grabbing a tablet of paper and a pencil, I direct him to sit on the quilt with his back against mine so he can’t see what I’m drawing.
“Describe something to me without giving away what it is, and I’ll try to draw it. Don’t make it too difficult, though,” I instruct him.
After humming in thought, Rama launches into a detailed description that I have to quickly follow or risk getting lost. I do the best I can, but what I end up with is a jumble of incongruent lines and shapes that vaguely resembles a small animal. Or maybe a car battery.
When Rama turns around and looks at my endeavor, he bursts into laughter. For a moment I’m stunned anew by the transformation. This man needs to laugh more often.
Pointing at the paper, he asks, “Why is it so small?”
“I don’t recall you telling me to make it large,” I defend. “I drew it exactly as you directed.”
“The first thing I said was to make an upsidedown triangle. Where’s that?”
“Here,” I point to the mess in the middle, and when Rama begins laughing again, I can’t help but join in. Soon tears are rolling down both our faces.
“What the hell you were describing, anyway?” I ask.
“A wolf!” Rama wipes his eyes with the back of his wrist. “B-but you’ve drawn a disabled lobster instead!”
“Just wait. You’ll see how difficult it is,” I warn, handing him the notebook and pencil and turning my back on him. Ruthlessly, I begin describing an owl in the most backward way possible.
“Is there anything you don’t do well?” I ask with a sigh when I see his drawing. Although rough, it’s definitely an owl.
“Plenty,” he says, smile suddenly fading.
Sorry to see him solemn again, I pat him on the shoulder. “Well, you’ve got me beat in the drawing department, that’s for sure.”
We have lunch in the main part of the studio, and the rest of the afternoon is spent with the cast. I can see the discomfort creeping over Rama and make a point to stay close to him and help him get to know the others.
It works, and soon he’s laughing and joking with them.
But when New, the acting coach, approaches us, he closes up like a clam, edging toward me again.
“New can be a little abrupt,” I tell him during a moment when she’s distracted.
“Everything’s fine,” Rama says, but I can see it isn’t because as soon as New turns her attention back to him, he tenses up again. More than willing to offer him any comfort I can, I stick with him, and time goes by quickly.
The next couple of days after the first workshop are busy for me with school, and it isn’t until Friday evening that I have an opportunity to practice my lines. Kiet has dropped by and reads Rama’s part for me.
“Skip the next scene,” he says. “I love you, buddy, but there’s no way I’m going to say those things to you, much less follow the stage directions. How does Rama do it? Didn’t you say he’s straight?”
“It’s called acting,” I say, taking the script from Kiet and turning the pages before handing it back. “I don’t want to practice love scenes with you anyway. That would be confusing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Until the series is finished filming, I’m with Rama.”
“I’d think that would be confusing.”
I shake my head. “We have to remain in our parts.”
“At least they don’t expect you to live together,” Kiet says, referring to the production companies that have been prominent in the news lately.
Stiflingly strict, these companies require their actors to share living arrangements for the duration of filming, going so far as to force them to give up their cell phones and basically cut ties with everyone and everything that isn’t related to the series.
Thankfully, I have never had to work for such a company. Bright had been bad, but not that bad.
We read for a while until, glancing at my watch, I realize how late it is and get to my feet. “Thanks for the help. They’re picking me up in an hour, and I need to finish packing.”
“No problem. See you later.”
Kiet leaves, and I hurry to get my things together for the weekend.
The sun’s sinking below the skyline when I climb into the back of the production company’s van. Maha’s driving, with Tida’s assistant Nahm in the front seat beside him, and Tait and Aran sitting in the middle. A larger bus with the rest of the cast has gone ahead of us.
Settling into the seat, I tuck my backpack at my feet. Since Rama’s family home is located just outside the city, he’s the last to be picked up, and when he climbs into the van, the scent of him—a mixture of something herbal with spicy undertones—settles over me.
We smile at each other.
“Your estate is lovely,” I say.
“Thank you. I’m thinking of getting my own place soon in the city, though. It’s not very convenient to be way out here.” When we’re underway, he suddenly touches my arm and leans close to speak in my ear. “Do you think I did something wrong at the workshop?”
I pull back to look at him. “No. Not at all. Why do you ask?”
He bids me to lean in again. Obviously, he doesn’t want anyone else in the van to hear. “P’Tida hasn’t had me sign a contract yet. From what I’ve heard, most everyone else has.”
Surprised, I don’t immediately answer, and Rama continues, “She told me she’s pleased with me, but I thought she would have had me sign by now.”
“Don’t worry. She’s just busy. I’m sure she’ll have you sign before this trip is over.”
Rama still looks concerned. “I think it’s because I’m new. She’s afraid I can’t do it.” He glances at me. “What if I can’t? I mean, I think I can, but I don’t have any experience kissing a man. I think P’Tida’s waiting to see if that’s going to be a problem.”
“So, you’ll show her it isn’t and that will be that,” I say confidently, hoping it’s true. I’m already growing comfortable with Rama, and I want to see him succeed.
He meets my eyes. “The idea doesn’t bother me, but I’ve never done it before, so how can I know how I’ll react?”
Glancing over his worried face, I say, “There’s only one way to find out.
” It’s a bold move, but if he can’t handle a soft kiss in the back of a dark van with no one paying attention, there’s no way he’ll be able to handle one under bright lights in front of cameras and crew.
Better to know now than to have him lose face in front of the producer and director.
Slowly, I lean forward, bringing my lips close to his. When he doesn’t move—only stares at me with deep, dark eyes—I gently press my mouth to his. Soft and pliable, his lips give with only the slightest amount of pressure.
Withdrawing, I smile. “There. Now you’ve gotten that over with. You did great.”
Cheeks turning pink, Rama ducks his head and chuckles. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Turning to the window, I catch a glimpse of my reflection, noting Rama isn’t the only one who looks flushed.
We share my ear buds, listening to music on my phone, and after a while Nahm passes back some snacks. Aran has fallen asleep, head lolling onto Tait’s shoulder, unbothered by the occasional jerk of Tait’s arm as he plays a game on his phone.
When Rama drifts off, I wrap my arm around him so he can rest his head on my chest. After a while, Tait puts his game aside and turns slightly in his seat, smiling when he sees us.
“I can already tell this drama will be a lot more enjoyable for you than the last one.”
“Just about anything would be,” I say, “but, yeah. And I guess you’re pretty comfortable.” I gesture to him and Aran.
Tait grins and nods. They two of them have appeared in a lot of bl dramas together over the years and are the best of friends.
We chat quietly, another hour slipping by with the gentle rocking of the van and Rama’s comfortable weight against me before we pull up to the modern beach-front house.
I wake him with a gentle shake of his shoulder.
Opening his eyes, he stiffens, looking alarmed, and I hesitate, wondering if perhaps I overstepped by offering myself as a cushion.
But then he sees me and his features soften with a smile. Pulling away from me, he stretches.
“I can’t wait to get into a soft bed,” Aran mumbles, digging out his bag from underneath the seat.
A little stiff from sitting so long in the same position, I have to agree with him.
Outside the van, the night air is breezy and cool, and a full moon floats above the rustling palm trees as we walk toward the house. Unsurprisingly, Tida has put Rama and me in the same room. Rama’s looking at his phone, so I take the adjoining bathroom first.
When I come out in my pajamas, I find Rama has already changed into his. He scoots past me, toothbrush in hand, and I crawl underneath the covers.
“Nervous about tomorrow?” I ask when we’re both settled in the queen-sized bed. Outside the open window, the waves crash against the shore.
Rama sighs. “A little. Mainly because I’m afraid I’ll mess up the photo shoot. I have trouble relaxing in front of the camera.”
“The shots at the audition were great.”
“That had to have been a fluke. Normally I don’t photograph so well. Oh, I need to ask you something. Once I sign the contract, I’ll need to find a manager. Any advice about that?”
I consider. “Tait and I have the same one. He’s pretty good. He got me the audition for this part, and my name isn’t exactly a hot commodity right now. I’ll give you his number if you want.”
“I’d appreciate that.” His arm brushes mine as he rolls to face me. “My sister called you one of the top bl actors.”
I feel myself blush. “She’s hugely exaggerating. The last one I did was very successful, but it wasn’t due to me.”
“Who was it due to, then?” Rama asks, peering at me steadily through the darkness.
I shrug. “My costar? He has a lot of fans. Or the plot?”
“My sister told me you were outed.”
Trepidation crawls over me. What has he heard? Has rumor already colored his judgment of me? Tensing, I wait for what he has to say.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
Relief washes over me. “It was difficult, but I’m okay now. I’m lucky Hearts Productions hired me.”
“Because you’re gay? Chinda said something about production companies preferring straight actors.”
“Yes. That’s why I say my manager must be pretty good.”
“I think you’re underestimating yourself,” Rama says, then covers a yawn. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” I echo, rolling onto my back, mind going to Preed and everything that happened.
Things got pretty ugly. Being around him after he lied—saying I’d been coming onto him the entire time we filmed the series—was extremely difficult.
If Kiet wasn’t there for me, bolstering my spirits through it all, I think I would have had a breakdown.
I’m sure Preed hoped I would. Looking back, I can see his actions were fueled by jealousy.
I was getting popular fast, and rather than using that and our increasing popularity as a Y-couple to his benefit, he tried to ruin me instead.
When the shit hit the fan, our producer made it clear to us we were to act like we were as close as ever for the scheduled fan meetings and promotional shows.
Standing on stage with him and smiling, putting up with the little touches he gave me, was the hardest thing I ever had to do.
Karma wound up biting Preed in the ass, though.
Some fans put a different spin on the situation, saying Preed fell for me, either because I seduced him or otherwise.
That he is in love with me still—which is preventing him and his new co-star from becoming a popular pairing.
I can only imagine how angry it’s making him, along with the fact that I managed to win another part.
Glancing over at Rama, I see he’s already asleep, lips parted, and dark lashes fanned over skin made luminous by the moonlight through the window.
It takes effort to force myself to look away from his beauty.
Although Rama does not strike me as the vindictive type, letting my guard down with Preed was a lesson I couldn’t and shouldn’t forget.
My career is in a precarious position, and I have to be careful.