At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
The truth is, we’ve prepped many film shoots together before, but this is the first time in the last four years in Tempt University’s infamous Film Program that all other key crew members were already booked on different sets. Meaning they were too busy to help us out tonight.
Meaning, it’s just him and me.
Luca moves his apple box, a small wooden block, a few feet to the left, and fixes the pink gel clipped to the backlight. He glances down at me every few seconds, and I know he’s just checking how the lighting looks bouncing off the blonde wig on my head, but I can’t help but feel butterflies zing around in my stomach every time I feel his eyes on me.
Oh, yeah, you read that right. I’m temporarily a blonde this evening. You see, I’m filling in for his main actress, and she’s blonde, apparently. To get the most accurate lighting test, we must re-create the scene close to what it will be on shooting day. Which means I need to cover my long black waves with short, curly blonde locks. I know it seems a little much, but Luca and I go all out. And the funny part is, I haven’t even read the script. But it doesn’t matter. I’d do anything for Luca, even wear a terribly itchy wig for hours on end.
We’ve been friends since freshman year when we met as grips (a film term for “stagehand”) on someone else’s thesis film. We’ve grown and learned together, always working as a team on set, always paying close attention during class, always having each other’s backs—this semester, especially. There are more cinematography students in our year than any other key crew majors in the Tempt University Film Program. (I guess all the other film majors are finally admitting that cine is the best job on set.) I’ve worked on three other students’ thesis films this semester, not including my own. It’s exhausting, but it’s excellent work to put on our resumes, that’s for sure. However, I would drop all those other projects in a heartbeat to help Luca, and I know he’d do the same for me.
A smile spreads on my face as he tilts the light to the side ever so slightly. We’re so similar—always paying close attention to detail, putting in extra work, and making sure we’re doing the best we can. For him, it’s the art of lighting that always gets his creative juices flowing. For me, it’s the angles. I love exploring the minds of the characters through different shots. You’d be amazed at the effect a closeup can have when you use it effectively, and the same goes for Dutch angles and wide angles and static shots and… you get the idea. I love bringing a script to life through cinematography, almost as much as I love being on set with Luca. Or just being with Luca in general.
I watch as he reaches above his head to adjust the gel on his key light, casting the room in a pinkish, orangey glow. It’s romantic and beautiful, and it almost feels like he’s unknowingly mocking the way he makes me feel. Luca’s every move has his thick biceps bulging and his thin white T-shirt revealing more and more of his perfect abs. As he leans to the side, I get a beautiful glimpse of a perfectly chiseled V leading straight to his groin, a place I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve thought about on more than one occasion. Even just now, I find myself imagining the exact details of where that V leads to…
“Sasha?” Luca’s familiar deep voice cuts through the dreamy reverie pulling me away from the moment.
“Huh?” I clear my throat. “Did you say something?”
Luca gestures to his tool kit by the foot of the backlight. “Hand me the C-Forty-Seven in my bag, please.”
“C-Forty-Seven. Got it.” I nod and dig in his bag. A C-Forty-Seven is just a fancy name for a clothespin. I love the little nicknames on set. Apple Box for a wooden step stool, C-Forty-Seven for clothespins, and “Eighty-Six that” for “get rid of it.” They’re like industry-wide inside jokes that make me feel as if I were to step onto a Steven Spielberg set tomorrow, I’d fit right in.
I find two non-broken clips and hand one to Luca, simultaneously clipping the other to his belt loop. Another on-set joke—clipping as many C-Forty-Sevens to your friend’s outfit as you can without them noticing. One time, my girlfriends and I clipped twelve C-Forty-Sevens to Luca’s walkie. He didn’t notice until the end of the day. I love that about him. He’s so focused, so intent with his creativity, and so freaking beautiful when he’s in the zone, that he barely notices anything else.
“Thanks,” Luca says. I bite my lip, heat rising in my core as he flashes me a sexy-as-hell half-grin. It must be the warmth from the lights flooding the room because I swear I’ve never let myself think about him this much in this way, and never when there’s work to be done. Which is, conveniently, all the time because Luca and I are always on set together. It’s just, we’re never alone on set together. For the first time ever, I can really watch him as he works without revealing my thoughts to every other person on set. And I have to say, I’m enjoying myself very much.
Luca turns my way to check the lighting and catches me staring. He gives me a sincere smile, his dark brown beard moving with the twist of his lips, and it melts me. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with his forearm, revealing the underside of his luscious arm muscles. My eyes lazily roam his body. He should be in front of the camera, not behind it. Heat spreads from my core as images of us tangled up in each other on this very couch fill my head. I suck in a sharp breath, shocked at my own devilish imagination. Damn it, Sasha, focus on the task at hand.
“You almost ready to do a screen test?” I choke out.
Luca pulls a side light an inch to the left. “Yeah, just a sec.”
I bit back a sassy response. Usually, spending all evening on someone else’s set when I could be grabbing a burger or watching a movie would piss me off. But first of all, this is Luca’s set, which, by extension, makes it my set. And secondly, I’ve never had this much time alone with him since we met four years ago. I’m enjoying every sweltering moment under these lights with him, even if it means wearing a stupid wig and sweating like a damn pig. He can take his sweet time on those lights, just like I’d want him to take his sweet time with me.
Oh boy, here come the sexy thoughts again. A shiver breaks out from my neck to my toes, despite the sweltering temperature.
Luca hops down from his apple box and darts over to the camera, a beautiful Red Dragon model. He taps some buttons and makes a few minute adjustments, then lets out a low sexy groan. God, I love that sound. It means the shot is even better than he imagined.
“Lookin good?” I ask.
“You sure are.” He gives me a playful wink, and I roll my eyes. Thank goodness I’m sitting down already because that wink made my knees weak. What is going on with me? I’ve never let these feelings affect my ability to work in Luca’s presence. It’s probably best to just get through the scene and be done with it before I do something like try to kiss his alluring lips.
Oh god, did I really just think that?
“Haha, very funny,” I say, itching the wig suffocating my scalp. It’s probably not entirely necessary, but like I said. Luca and I, we take this seriously. The actress has short blonde hair, and I’ve got thick, dark waves that extend to just past my boobs. Two totally different looks on camera when it comes to lighting. Typically, on a professional set, we’d have the actress or her double stand in, but this is film school, and you do what you gotta do.
Luca laughs, adjusts a few more things, and nods his head. “Yeah, this is great. I love it.”
“Awesome. Let’s go through it,” I say, preparing myself to take on the role of the main actress in his film. Even if I don’t have to say any lines, I want to do my best for Luca. I want to make sure he gets an adequate lighting test, which means mimicking whatever actions will be played out on the big screen when production starts tomorrow. “What happens in this scene again?”
Luca runs his hand through his thick brown hair, something I’ve been longing to do since I met him. I grab my almost empty water bottle from the table and take a swig. It’s not cool anymore and does nothing to simmer down the sizzling hormones building within
me, but at least it’s keeping my hands from touching his beautiful body. Jesus, I must be PMSing. I’ve never wanting to caress his bulging muscles this badly before. At least, not outside of my dreams.
“Uh, right,” he says, somewhat stiffly. Luca’s a burly kind of guy, but he’s usually pretty loosey-goosey on set. It’s his happy place, and mine too, so seeing him uptight feels pretty odd. I watch closely, noticing that he’s breathing a bit quicker now. He bites the inside of his cheek and taps the record button on the camera.
“Everything alright?” I ask.
He awkwardly steps up to the couch, moving as if he’s uncomfortable in his own skin. Luca stands beside me, his crotch eye-level with my face. I struggle to keep my eyes on his as he gulps and says, “It’s a sex scene.”
Chapter Two
Luca
“Did I say sex scene? I meant make out. They just make out,” I stammer. God, I’m a fumbling idiot. Sasha narrows her sapphire eyes at me, probably trying to figure out why I’m acting so fucking weird. She’s gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous in her on-set work clothes—a pair of yoga pants that accentuate every muscled curve of her long legs and a tight-as-hell shirt that suctions perfectly to her perky, round breasts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered what it’d be like to feel those beauties in my hands, to watch her come undone in my arms as I bring her to the edge of a shattering orgasm.
Shit, of course I couldn’t hold myself back—I wish this were a sex scene. If it were, I could finally play out all the impulses I’ve never acted on with Sasha. Every time she puts her hair up in her ponytail, every time she bends down to pick something up, revealing the corner of a Wonder Woman tattoo on her hip, every time Sasha fails to stifle a giggle when she clips a C-Forty-Seven to my walkie. She has no idea how fucking adorable and sexy and goddamn talented she is. She’s the whole package, she’s my best friend, and she’s my partner. No matter how many times I’ve wanted to make a move, to tell her how I feel, there’s always that one part of me, the damned stubborn bastard, that tells me I shouldn’t screw that up.
“So, just a kiss?” she asks like this is business as usual. Like it wouldn’t be a fucking dream come true.
I let out a choking sound. “Yeah, just a kiss,” I say. Unfortunately.
Sasha beckons for me to join her on the couch. “Okay, so sit down.”
My heart pounds in my chest like some middle schooler about to go on a date for the first time. Jesus, what is wrong with me? I’ve been friends with Sasha for years. She knows me better than anyone, yet I can’t stop my dick from getting hard at the brief accidental mention of sex with her? I gulp down my hesitation as I take a seat near her. Sasha eyes me with those beautiful irises, intoxicating me with the smell of her sweet sweat and her rose-scented deodorant. She unclips her green fanny pack, the one with all the pockets she loves to use in place of wearing a purse. I smile to myself as Sasha places it on the table by the couch. She’s so freaking cute. And when she leans toward me, her beauty has me breathless.
Wait, why is she leaning toward me? “What are you doing?” I ask, not moving a muscle. She’s inches from me now, and I feel like a fisherman caught in a siren’s song.
“We’ve gotta go through all the motions to make sure the lighting catches on this stupid wig.” Her voice is low, conspiratorial. It’s so damn attractive.
I hesitate, not sure how to proceed without jumping on her in a rage of lust-fueled desire that would undoubtedly ruin our friendship. She makes her disappointed face, her lower lip slightly pouty, her eyes glassy. It always turns me on. I lean forward slightly, stopping halfway. She rolls her eyes at me.
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to actually kiss me to make the damn test work. Just pretend, move your head like this.” Sasha smirks as she tilts her head, inches from mine, blocking my face from the camera with hers. I’m so fucking close to finally tasting her lips, but I can’t do that to us. It wouldn’t be fair to our friendship. Right?
She moves closer to me on the couch and tilts her head in the other direction, her lips brushing mine for the briefest of moments, sending electricity straight to my heart, and the other place.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s senior year. I’ve been pining for Sasha since we were freshies. If I’m going to do anything about the way I feel for her, it better be now or never. And if it blows up in my face, at least I’ll finally know for sure whether anything could happen between us.
A burst of electrical energy courses through my veins as I decide it’s time to finally take action.
I cup Sasha’s face in my hands and plant my lips on hers.
Chapter Three
Sasha
I’m rendered entirely motionless as Luca plants a lingering kiss on my lips. I’m not even sure if I’m breathing. I couldn’t dare do something like breathe, not when it might disturb this lovely dream I’ve got going here. But is it a dream? The heat searing against my skin from Luca’s big, rough hands, and the pounding of my heart in my neck makes me think otherwise. A burning passion threatens to rip through me any second, but I can’t help but stay absolutely still, not wanting this surreal moment to end.
Luca is kissing me. Finally. I close my eyes, letting the fantastic dream take over my senses. Nothing else exists but us. Blood pounds through my veins. I can only hear the ragged breathing between Luca and me as he tentatively brushes his thumb over my jawline. It feels electric, sending shockwaves to my heart, jolting me into action.
I dare to move my lips against his, and for a moment, I worry that I’ve ruined the whole thing. But Luca responds with enthusiasm, leaning into the kiss, slipping his tongue into my mouth. He tastes sweet in an understated way, which is just like him. Tough and rough and burly on the outside, but a big, cute softie on the inside. At least, that’s how he is with me. I’m the only one who knows the real him, who’s ever seen the true Luca. It melts my heart to think that he’s always been his sweet, caring, loving self with me and no one else. Has he been mine this whole time? Has he been waiting for this moment, too?
My racing thoughts melt away when Luca traces his hands down the length of my sides, my nerves tingling, spreading out in waves with each new place he touches me. He grabs my hips, and in one smooth, steady motion, he pulls me onto his lap as if I weigh nothing. He wants me as badly as I want him, and the realization lights a burning fire in my core, sending aching pulses of need between my legs.
His beard tickles my sensitive skin as he moves his lips down to my jawline, down the side of my neck, leaving hot, moist kisses in a trail to my collarbone. My hands shake ever so slightly as I finally let them sink into the deep, thick waves of Luca’s brown hair. The sensation of his silky strands sliding between my fingers brings a moan to my lips. This feels heavenly, just as I’d imagined all those times behind the scenes on set. Keeping these internal moans, these thoughts, these wants to myself. It feels good to finally let it out, to finally feel him in my arms. I let out another soft whimper, enjoying the release.
“Fuck, Sasha. You’re so beautiful,” Luca says, his voice scraping out like sandpaper. Something presses against that magical spot at my center. I gasp, realizing its Luca’s hard-on. Ohmygod, I’m turning him on. The realization turns me on, makes me feel sexy and powerful. I tilt my hips slightly, letting my body explode with pleasure as I press against his steel length. Another moan escapes me.
Luca slips his hands under the hem of my shirt. The heat radiating off his body brings me to a boil, and I almost scream out when his thumbs brush over the tips of my nipples. I grip his hair tighter, excited for what I hope is coming next.
“You like that?” He asks, breathing raggedly. The sound is rough and titillating. I let my head fall back, overwhelmed by the feeling of his calloused fingers toying with my breasts that I almost don’t notice my wig fall to the ground. My silky brown waves fall to the sides of my face, making me feel entirely free. There’s no more hiding behind the pretense that we’re getting into character for the sake of
a lighting test. This is Luca and Sasha, finally giving in to the building attraction that’s been eating at their hearts for years.
With arms still wrapped around each other, our clothes almost entirely melted away by the scorching heat between us, Luca and I stare into each other’s eyes. It feels so good to finally be able to look at him, take all of him in, and not worry that I might be caught. The stare of his chocolatey brown eyes bores into me, fanning the blazing passion in my core. A palpable hunger emanates in the air between us, giving his lusty gaze an intensity that has me breathless. His eyes stop moving when they reach my breasts, braless and perky behind my tight workout tank top. They’re so ready for him to touch them again. A smirk spreads on his beautiful lips. It sends me over the edge.
“Are you sure that’s all the characters do in the scene?” I whisper, barely able to catch my breath and so fucking eager for more of whatever this is between us.
“Unfortunately,” he says, leaning in close to my lips again.
I wonder if he’s going to give in to the magnetic pull driving his cock hard against my core. “Bummer,” I whisper absentmindedly. God, I want more. I want so much more. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want Luca inside me right now. I want to feel his hard body against mine. I want to explore every angle of the muscled planes of his gorgeous physique.
Of their own free will, my hands travel down to the hem of Luca’s shirt, tugging it up, revealing his perfect abs. They have me salivating instantaneously. Luca lets me pull his shirt all the way off, lets my fingers trace the lines of his pecks down to the V shape pointing to his impressive erection ready for me.
Tempt University: Year One: A College Romance Collection Page 37