One More Time(12)

If her lines are what’s bothering her, that won’t matter. The PA will feed them to her if need be, and we have time to rehearse a bit while the next set is prepared.

I should tell her that.

Okay, it’s just an excuse to talk to her, but I’m desperate to break the silence. But just as I turn to her and open my mouth to speak, Polly finishes her instructions to her assistant director and turns to us.

“Jenna, Tanner, can I talk to you about something for a second?” she asks. She looks almost as tense as Jenna does. What the hell is going on?

Then it hits me.

If we’re skipping scenes twenty-four and twenty-seven because we can’t shoot outdoors, that means we’re jumping to scene eighteen—the next number on the call sheet.

Oh, shit. Scene eighteen.

Films always shoot out of order. There are a number of reasons—daylight, weather, locations, availability—that mean the production schedule is carefully designed to be as efficient as possible, divas notwithstanding. What it means for the actors is that the very first scene we perform can end up being the movie’s climax, or a huge emotional moment, or a silly comedy bit inside a dramatic film.

Or, in this case, it can mean that the first time I face Jenna on set, it will also be the first time we kiss on-screen.

“So,” Polly says as she pulls us both off to the side, “Are you guys ready for this? Jenna?”

I watch some of the tension drain out of her posture as she smiles at our director.

“Totally fine.” And weirdly, she now looks like she actually is fine. My mind returns to the one-sided conversation Jenna and I had yesterday. New Jenna isn’t flustered by a thing. New Jenna is solid as a rock. New Jenna is totally fine.

So what was with the stiffness of a moment ago?

I have a sinking feeling that the real problem is me.

And once again, I’m the one standing here wondering if I only imagined how much we meant to each other back then, or if Jenna is simply better at moving on, getting over me as easily as last season’s fashions.

“Tanner?” Polly asks, and I don’t think it’s the first time she’s said it. I shake my head to regain my focus, and put on a smile of my own, the wide, reassuring one that’s graced a hundred magazine covers. What kind of actor would I be if I couldn’t pretend everything was fine while my heart cracks a little more under the weight of regret?

“Yeah. Of course,” I say.

“Great. Let’s run through the scene a few times so we can get you comfortable with the blocking and make sure you two are feeling nice and comfy. I’ll get the DP so we can roll tape on it just in case.”

“Perfect,” I say, but as I do, Jenna also responds.

“That won’t be necessary,” she says. “I don’t need to rehearse. Just show me where my marks are. I’m ready to get this wrapped. It’s too chilly to stay in this dress much longer.”

Not a single goosebump mars that perfectly creamy skin. She just wants to get me over with.

I’m desperate to get some kind of real emotion from her. Something that says kissing me for the first time in a decade means something. Anything. I’m a dick for needing to see it, but I do, and so I guess that’s who I am.

“I don’t know that a rush job is going to be good for the shot, Jenna,” I pretend concern for the film. “It’s the first kiss, after all. If we don’t sell people on our relationship now, they aren’t going to follow for the rest of the movie.”

Polly’s looking back and forth between us, as though she’s willing to hear us both out.

“I think it would be wise to practice, even just one,” I continue. “In my experience, a run-through really helps calm the nerves.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to say, and I know it the second it’s out of my mouth, but I’m too proud to apologize.

“I appreciate your advice,” Jenna says back bitingly, “But I’m not nervous. And I’ll assume with all your experience that neither are you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my makeup freshened before we call action. ” She stalks off, ass swishing invitingly as she does.

I watch her leave with a mixture of regret and arousal that Polly notices immediately.

“Seriously?” she says with chiding annoyance.

And I guess I’ve just alienated both the women I need to keep happy if we expect to pull this shoot off without any drama. I try the smile again, but Polly sees through me. In her mind, I’ve just proven myself to be exactly the kind of man she works hard to keep out of her movies.

Well. I was looking for her to show some real emotion. Guess I got it.

“Let’s just go,” I respond roughly, feeling worse than I have in recent memory, and knowing that I can’t take that into the shoot.

I spend the rest of my time before the clapper slams shut rolling my head from side to side and stretching, but nothing’s going to get this knot out of my stomach.

The motions of the scene are simple. Jenna’s character Grace walks into the restaurant lobby just as my character Bobby is walking out. She’s looking for me, and I’m leaving to find her. We stop as we see each other. We both smile. Then there are four lines of dialogue before I cut her off and grab her for the kiss. It’s quick and simple.

Or at least it ought to be.