You Had Me at Hola(22)

Ashton’s mind flashed back through eight years of high-fiving Yadiel every time the kid nailed his goals—walking, tying his shoes, adding numbers, flipping his skateboard and landing on it. He still couldn’t remember what that move was called, but Yadiel had been so proud of himself when he’d stuck the landing that first time. It had warranted a double high five, using both hands. A “high ten,” Yadiel called it.

Everyone was waiting for him to reply, so Ashton nodded. “Okay. Yes, a high five.”

With Jasmine it would be an innocuous move, the sound and motion of their slapping palms serving to break them out of the awkward haze of kissing on camera.

Because it was awkward, no matter how many times he did it.

The last woman he’d kissed on camera had been a seasoned telenovela actress on El fuego de amor. In fact, they’d both starred on another show together, maybe six years earlier, where they’d had to kiss. They’d cracked jokes leading up to the moment, teasing each other about how much older they were now. But Ashton didn’t have that rapport with Jasmine. All he had was a feeling like electricity singing through his veins when she was near.

It was his own fault. He should have worked harder to get to know her before this moment. Media attention and social anxiety be damned, this was his chance. And he was on the verge of blowing it because he’d spent too much time hiding in his dressing room.

“So we have a passionate, heat-of-the-moment kiss between two ex-lovers,” Vera went on, oblivious to Ashton’s inner turmoil. “There’d be some reluctance there, too, right? But also surrender. They’re finally giving in to what they both feel.”

Ashton glanced at Jasmine. Giving in? That wouldn’t be too hard to pretend. But feeling real attraction for the other actor often made the whole thing even more awkward. He had to shut those feelings away and focus. This was work.

Ilba spoke up. “I’m thinking more clutching, less groping.”

Vera nodded. “Yes, these are two people who once loved each other enough to get married. They’ve spent years apart and they’re desperate to revisit what they once had. But also, it’s a stolen moment in the family kitchen, and Carmen’s mother could come back at any time. They’re holding each other, not tearing off clothing.” She turned to Jasmine and Ashton. “How does that sound to you two?”

Jasmine agreed. “It’s a release of tension too. They’ve been snapping at each other since he returned, but the anger and teasing mask the real feelings underneath—both the hurt and the lingering love.”

The others nodded approvingly, then Ilba turned to Marquita. “How hot are we making this? Like, tongue? Or—”

Vera took one look at Jasmine, and whatever she saw on her face had her interrupting quickly. “No tongue. It won’t be necessary.”

Now Ashton wanted to know what Jasmine was thinking. He preferred not to use tongue on-screen. It was weird, and kind of jarring. There was already too much to think about without bringing tongues and saliva into it. What had Jasmine’s experiences been? She must have had plenty of on-screen kisses. It was too late to ask her, however. They were getting ready to begin.

While Marquita and Ilba discussed something in the script, Vera took Ashton aside.

“Is there anything you’re uncomfortable with?” she asked in a low voice. “Doing or receiving. Or anywhere you’d prefer not to be touched?”

It was the first time anyone had asked him that. He’d thought to ask some of his female costars in the past, but it wasn’t something the production team usually took into account, especially for a male actor. Everyone had always assumed he was perfectly comfortable touching women he didn’t know, or being touched by them.

When he didn’t answer right away, Vera gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ve done my research. I know you’re a pro. But still, if there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable, or you don’t want to do, please tell me. This is a safe space for you too.”

“Um, thank you,” he said, not sure what else to say. In truth, he didn’t mind being touched within the context of a scene. He certainly didn’t mind the thought of Jasmine touching him, although having an audience changed the dynamic significantly. But he liked that Vera had thought to ask. “I just want to make sure she—Jasmine—is comfortable.”

“I want that too.” Vera left him to go speak to Jasmine. While they talked, Jasmine’s gaze lifted and caught Ashton’s across the set. She said something to Vera and gave a little shake of her head. He would have given anything to hear what she was saying, but then again, maybe he was better off not knowing.

And then . . . there was nothing more to do but rehearse the kiss.

Ilba handled the first part. “You’ll both be standing here,” she said, pointing. “Working together at the kitchen island, cooking a meal.”

“Will we have food on our hands?” Jasmine asked, sounding dubious as she joined Ashton at the counter.

Marquita and Ilba exchanged a look, and the showrunner shook her head.

“No, it’s not a messy make-out session,” Marquita said. “You’re admiring the plated dishes.”

“What does the script say?” Ilba asked, flipping pages.

“‘They kiss,’” Jasmine and Ashton replied in unison. He caught her eye, then looked away. It was something he’d noticed while memorizing his lines. No stage direction except They kiss. There was a world of possibility in those two little words.