19. Chapter Nineteen
And the photo that the publicity staff took is posted with the caption, “Back to work. This rom-com might have a lot of extra rom.”
* * *
Sal smiles as we walk into the room, which has gone from loud chatter to a hush.
Penny stands when we enter and pulls out my chair for me. I thank her and take my seat.
Graham rests his hand on Penny’s shoulder as if in a sign of solidarity. It’s got to be hard to know something that no one else knows. I mean, it’s hard enough to be the focus of that secret.
Penny takes her seat and Graham sits down next to me. A moment later, he rests his arm on the back of my seat and looks around the room.
The director, Jean-Claude St. Paul, studies us, and I know for a fact he’s not excited to see us in this capacity. Sure, no one wants us to be fighting on set, but sometimes I think when the actors are involved with each other, it’s equally hard to keep their attention. I suppose that’s something that Graham and I should talk about.
“It’s nice to see everyone,” Graham says, taking the lead on the meeting. “Are we waiting on anyone else?”
Penny shakes her head, but Sal leans in on his forearms, his sunglasses shading his eyes. “Let’s get started.”
As it begins at the start of every project, we go around the room and do introductions. This is how we get to know the faces that go with the names. Anyone who is involved in the production is piled into this room that’s much too small.
For the most part, the faces are familiar. Members of our ensemble cast sit around the table. Men who have played neighbors, brothers, and additional love interests sit amongst women who have played my best friends, sisters, and bosses. As we make our way around the room, Graham inches in closer to me, his arm still around the back of my chair.
The confused looks from our co-stars don’t go unnoticed.
They are often our sounding boards to issues between me and Graham. Or they’re caught in the crossfire.
I sip the lemon water that I brought, and before we start our read through, Graham takes a bite of a granola bar and hands the rest to me. He winks and then opens his script.
Under the table, our thighs touch. I’ve nibbled on the granola bar, and I’m grateful that he gave it to me. I don’t eat in public very often, but I was hungry.
As we read through the script, we make notes, and the director asks for some changes.
Since I’ve been alone for the past few weeks with just the script, I have it memorized. Though, I don’t let on. No one needs to know how sad and lonely I really am. I don’t even want to admit that to myself.
Graham has his script marked up, and as we make our way to the middle, he turns the script toward me.
Inside, he has a Post-it note.
Our first real love scene, he has written on it.
His hand comes to my thigh under the table, and I’m sure that I flinch. He doesn’t seem to take that personally.
Leaning in close to me, Graham whispers in my ear, “This should be interesting.”
I swallow hard.
The movies that we do usually don’t have anything like this in it. This movie has a shower scene and bed scene—well, a bed scene that isn’t just us laying in it. Though it’s not extreme in any way, we will still be in bed together—more intimately.
The most we’ve ever done are kissing scenes. But I guess this is moving forward. This is picking up the pace. This is nerve-wracking.
We read through the scene, and I can feel the heat crawl up my neck.
As soon as we are done with the scene, the director calls for a ten-minute break.
Penny stands. She knows this is her cue to get me a new water, and usually a Tylenol.
Before Graham and I can vacate our seats for the short break, the director comes toward us.
“I’d like a word,” he says and walks out of the room.
Graham and I exchange worried looks before he stands and holds out his hand to me to help me from my chair. We follow the director out of the boardroom and down the hall to a private office.
Jean-Claude is pacing when we walk in.
“Shut the door,” he says. He has a slight French accent that can often be intimidating, especially when he gets angry.
He stops pacing, folds his arms in front of himself, and then looks at me and Graham standing next to each other.
“This isn’t going to be a problem, right?” he asks.
“What’s that?” Graham asks.
Jean-Claude motions between us. “Whatever is going on between you two. We’ve worked together before. You’re both professional and you do your work, but you don’t talk aside from your lines.”
“Now we talk,” Graham says as he takes my hand and holds it in his. “Why would this be a problem?”
Moving closer to us, Jean-Claude”s tongue moves over his teeth as he studies us. “I have heard how you talk about her,” he says, and I feel Graham tense up. He then turns to look at me. “And you. Last time we worked together, you threw a coffee mug at his head.”
Graham laughs, but I suddenly feel faint. I did that. God, I did that!
“It won’t happen again,” I say.
Jean-Claude’s eyes move from me to Graham and back again. “This doesn’t feel right,” he says.
“It should feel better,” Graham interjects. “Imagine how this will show up on the screen. Our fans love us together, and this film is different than the rest.”
“This film has sex,” Jean-Claude states the facts. “It’s still just a rom-com for a streaming service.” His voice drips with irritation at the project, as if it’s beneath him—but here he is.
Jean-Claude throws his hands up as if in defeat and walks out of the office, leaving me and Graham alone.
I shake my head and close my eyes tightly.
Graham takes both of my hands and pulls me to him. “What’s wrong?”
I open my eyes and look up at him. “Just another streaming service rom-com? Even he doesn’t believe in what we do anymore.”
Graham’s brows draw together. “You believe in it,” he states firmly.
“I used to. Now even you and I are selling ourselves out for bigger and better things.”
He looks hurt that I said it that way, but it’s the truth. We’ve made a deal with the devil, and now we’re paying.
“I still believe in it,” he says. “I believe we’ll get those bigger and better things. And I believe that we might even become friends.”
I study his face, and I notice that it’s softer than I remember.
I consider what he’s saying. He has kissed me now—twice—just to kiss me. And he wants me to meet his dog. That’s big, right?
Maybe we will be friends.
I think about how lonely I’ve been, and I wonder if that’s what I need. Smiling up at him, I know it’s what I need. I need people in my life, and my lack of them has me in this situation. I don’t go out. I don’t see people. I almost don’t know how to act if I’m not being paraded around by my parents. So, when I’m around someone else, the rumors fly.
“I think I’d like to be your friend,” I say.
Graham smiles. “Good. I’m tired of only hanging out with Milo,” he jokes, and I laugh, lifting my hand to his chest.
“Will I meet him too?” I ask.
“It’s possible. But don’t judge me based on him. I might be thirty-five, but I live like I’m still in college.”
I wrinkle up my nose. “Why? You’re a successful actor.”
“That’s why. I haven’t settled down yet, so no need to have the big house and yard. I have just what Loki and I need.”
Graham takes my hand, and we walk back to the boardroom, but what he says sticks with me.
He has what he and Loki need, so I wonder where I fit into that. Maybe he doesn’t really need another friend, and maybe I’m only fooling myself into thinking this is real, too.
As we enter the room and sit down, the others file in.
I look at Graham as he’s in conversation with the actor who will play his best friend. Under the table, he’s still holding my hand.
My heart begins to beat faster. We’re supposed to be fooling everyone else. But I’m very worried that he’s fooling me.