Fame, Fate, and the First Kiss(13)

Remy was busy talking to a camera operator, so I snatched Grant’s hand on his second pass and pulled him toward me.

“Do you see my eyes?” I said.

He tilted his head, like I’d said something surprising. “Yes. They’re gorgeous.”

“Thanks. But more important, makeup-free, right? Don’t look anywhere else today. We can do this.”

“Do you see my eyes?” he asked, bending down to my level. His eyes were even bluer up close.

“Yes. They’re gorgeous,” I said, mimicking him.

“Most girls actually like to stare into them.”

“What?”

“You think it’s me,” he said. “That trailer visit the other night. This. You think it’s me.”

“I . . . Maybe.” I’d thought it was both of us.

He leaned in even closer, his stare becoming a smolder, showing just how easy he could turn it on. “It’s not.”

“Oh.”

“We good?” he asked.

“Yes. We’re good,” I said. Only we weren’t. He had me flustered now. Second-guessing myself. I had planned to do the things I’d practiced with Donavan the day before, but if I was the one who wasn’t projecting chemistry, those things wouldn’t help me.

We started in on the scene. “Cut!” Remy yelled in the middle of a take. “What’s that?” He pointed right at me.

“What?” Had I said a line wrong? It wouldn’t have surprised me—I felt off.

He stepped forward, his finger still extended until he reached me and his finger met my arm. I looked at where he was pointing, to see a long rip in my blouse. There were a lot of rips in my shirt, but I, too, recognized this as a new one. One that hadn’t been there in any other scene, which was a bad thing. It would stand out if two scenes were back-to-back, one with the rip and one without.

“I don’t know how that got there,” I said. There’s no way I wouldn’t have heard that long of a fabric rip. Weird.

“Wardrobe!” he bellowed, and I tried not to cringe.

“I’ll go get a backup,” Faith said.

She took longer than Remy wanted (I could tell by his constant sighing), but when she returned, he said, “Way to be on top of things, Faith.”

As she helped me exchange shirts, I said, “Thanks.”

She gave me a quick nod, and then we continued.

I left the set for the second day in a row frustrated that nothing had changed. The chemistry was still off. Remy had made sure to let us know. Back in my trailer after yanking off my corset, I pulled out my laptop and googled Amanda Roth’s best kissing scenes. A whole list came up. I clicked on the first one.

Eight minutes later, I had watched the first three. She was amazing. The chemistry she created crackled through my computer screen. I was so engrossed in figuring out how she was pulling it off that I didn’t realize someone had come into my trailer until he cleared his throat.

I pushed pause and looked up to see Donavan standing there.

“I knocked,” he said.

“I finished the packet yesterday,” I responded.

“You finished one of the three. That’s one-third.”

“Look at you, using your tutoring skills in everyday conversations.”

“It’s a talent.” He stepped all the way inside and shut the door.

“You should include that in your bio for sure.”

“My bio?”

“Right. You probably don’t have a bio. I’ll write one for you. ‘Donavan: Loves homework, haircuts, and harmonizing.’”

“You know I don’t actually sing, right?”

“Let’s not argue about semantics.”

He gestured toward my face. “Is ‘can wear zombie makeup twelve hours straight’ in your bio?”

I had forgotten I was still wearing it. “I’m trying to become the character.” I touched my cheek. “Has it been twelve hours?”

“According to the call sheet your dad sends me every day.”

“It’s not always accurate,” I said. “Just giving you a fair warning.”

“Are you already working on your next packet?”

“What?”

He nodded at my laptop.

“Oh, no.” I had more important things to work on. I slid down the couch, indicating he should sit. He did. “But I am studying.” I pushed play on the scene I had paused.

He watched for several minutes in complete silence as Amanda went from a heartfelt monologue to making out with someone.

“Isn’t she amazing?” I asked.

“I’m confused.”

I pointed to Amanda. “This is an actress in this movie. She’s going to teach me how she does this.”

“How she does what?”

“I have to convince audiences everywhere that a zombie loves a zombie hunter. So far, it’s not happening. So far, the only thing future viewers care about is that I’m not someone else.”

“How do you know this?”

“The internet.”

“The internet?”

“Well, people on the internet. Mainly Grant’s fans.”

“You know what a wise philosopher once said?” he responded.