Under the Lights

“You have no idea what I think,” I return, letting my voice quiver a little. Bailey’s a bit of a drama queen — nothing like me in real life. “You have no idea how I feel.”

“Oh, I know how you feel,” Josh-as-Luke says, stepping closer, close enough that I can smell the cinnamon gum on his breath that proves he did prepare for this scene, at least a little bit. He reaches out and strokes my cheek, his fingertips caressing my jaw. “I know exactly how you feel.”

And then he pulls me close and kisses me, just as the script demands. I tell myself to imagine it’s Zander’s mouth on mine, but that’s not helping me muster up the enthusiasm I need. Especially since I’m all too aware of Brianna’s laser-green eyes on me, imagining those lips in their naturally smug curve—

I don’t even realize I’ve opened my mouth until I get the strong, sharp taste of cinnamon on my tongue, and I shove him away. I’m grateful we’re still in mid-scene, because I know Josh would be grinning at me like a wolf if we weren’t, sure I’d succumbed to his charms, ignorant of the fact that I’d forgotten I was kissing him at all. But he’s Luke now, not Josh, and his face flashes with hurt and confusion and heat instead.

“You want me,” he says determinedly. “I know you do. And you may think you want Monroe, but he’ll never kiss you like I do. So before you decide to toss me aside for that surf bum, you better be sure you’re okay with losing what you’re giving up.” One more hard kiss, and then he walks out.

Cut.

Everyone seems pretty pleased with the scene, but of course, we have to film it again. We get back into place, and as we do, I catch a glimpse of Brianna standing next to an empty chair, thumbs tucked into the belt loops of her denim miniskirt, jaw clenched tight until she notices me noticing her.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say she wasn’t all that thrilled with that scene.

And for some reason, that gets me excited to do it all over again.

* * *

“You and Josh have some pretty crazy chemistry,” Carly observes as the two of us walk back to the trailer we share once filming is done for the day. “Is this one of those things where you guys pretend to hate each other when you’re actually totally in love?”

I snort. “Trust me when I say there are no positive feelings between me and Josh, unless you count that he throws good parties. That, I’ll give him.”

As if just talking about him summoned the devil, I feel a hand clap me on the shoulder, and turn to see another one land on Carly’s. “Ladies,” Josh says genially.

“Lord Douchington,” I reply with a nod of my head. “Don’t you think you’ve touched me enough today?” I pry his fingers from my shoulder. “What do you want?”

He grins, not remotely affected by any of my insults, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. “Actually, I have a question for you.” He nods toward my half of the trailer. “May I?”

“If the question is whether I’ll sleep with you, the answer is going to be vomit on your shoes. I’m warning you now.”

Carly laughs and flutterwaves goodbye as she disappears into her half, and I reluctantly let Josh in to mine. “What is it?” I sit down at the mirror and douse some cotton balls in makeup remover, anxious to get this crap off my face.

He coughs. “I…I need your help with something.”

“If you think I’m gonna run lines with you right now, after all the ad-libbing you did in there, you’re crazy.”

“Oh, please — like my lines weren’t a thousand times better than the cheesy shit they write for us. But no, this has nothing to do with the show. This is more assistance of the…parental-pleasing variety. As in, I have no idea how to, and I kind of need to. At dinner. Tonight.”

He looks so convinced that this is something I actually have vast experience in that I almost feel bad laughing at his face in the mirror. Almost. “Oh, you’re serious,” I say after a minute, wiping my eyes. “Josh, if I was capable of pleasing parents, trust me, I’d be doing it. My parents think I’m just as much of a waste of space as yours probably do.”

“You?” He snorts. “What’s your parents’ issue? Were you five minutes late to church on Sunday?”

I whirl around in my seat. “Has anyone ever told you that when you ask a favor, you’re supposed to be nice to the person you’re asking?”

“Yeah, but you know I never listen to Ally.”

“God, you’re the worst.” I shake my head at his stupid grin, but curiosity at why Josh suddenly wants to be a parent-pleaser wins out. “So, what do you need and why?”

He hesitates, and I think it might be the first time I’ve seen Josh Chester look…embarrassed.

“Um, did you think you were gonna be able to ask my help without telling me what it was for?”

“No, I’m just bracing myself for how big of a bitch you’re gonna be about it.”

“A pretty huge one, now,” I say sweetly.

“I knew this was a mistake.” He turns to go, and I let him; I know he’ll be back in two seconds. Who else is he gonna ask?