Famous in Love

by Rebecca Serle

  And it’s not like my parents are particularly good at business. My mom still thinks this movie is a hobby, some flyer she can fold and stuff into her jewelry box. She fully intends for me to come back to Portland and finish my senior year when we wrap the shoot.

  At the thought of Portland, I feel that familiar pinch in my stomach. I wonder if Cassandra has gotten the book yet.

  “So,” Rainer says. “Are you going home next week?” He pulls me closer and places his hands on my neck again, to touch the necklace. They linger there and then move down an inch, sliding against my collarbone.

  “Yeah.” I swallow.

  He leans in now, his lips meeting mine. “I missed you,” he says. He draws me in, and I fold quickly. He runs the back of his hand over my cheek. I’m in his lap now, my hands reaching up to his hair. I try not to think about Jordan, about the guilt I feel at that kiss. That betrayal.

  “I missed you, too.” Seeing him makes me realize even more just how much.

  Rainer raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He scans his eyes across my face. “Nothing. I just sort of felt like…”

  “Like what?”

  “Like maybe this isn’t what you want.” His eyes hold my gaze. His hand stops moving on my back.

  I feel like I used to when I’d sneak home late on a Friday night. My pulse would pound in my ears if I heard a noise before I was safely back in my room.

  “You’re Rainer Devon,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “Every girl is into you.”

  He shakes his head. He’s not biting. “We’re not talking about every girl. We’re talking about you.” His face is calm, and I remember, suddenly, that he’s older. Right now, in this moment, he’s not acting like a boy. He’s acting like a man.

  I feel my breath catch in my throat. Like it’s forcing me to shut up—to stop and tell the truth. “I know,” I say. “This is all just a lot.”

  Rainer nods. “It is. I know that. That’s what I’m saying.”

  My stomach turns over. He keeps going. “At some point, you’re going to have to choose.”

  “Choose?” I can tell my voice is high and squeaky. How does he know? It’s not like there is a choice, since Jordan has taken himself out of the equation. But Rainer doesn’t know anything about that. Panic sets in, and I can feel my muscles begin to knot up with tension.

  “Yeah,” he says. “You’re going to have to decide whether you want to be with me, or not.”

  The air leaves my body in a rush. Relief. “But I thought we already were. Together, I mean.” Immediately, my face flushes.

  Rainer notices and cups a hand over the back of my neck. It’s soft, gentle. “That’s been mostly my call, not yours. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you into anything.”

  “Okay,” I say, cautiously.

  Rainer pushes on. “It’s not just about us,” he says. “Being together means a lot more than that.”

  I don’t say anything, just wait for him to continue.

  “It’ll mean more press. And less privacy. But to me it’s worth it.” He moves his hand from my neck to my cheek. “It’s worth it to get to be with you.”

  I think about what Jordan said, about Rainer only dating actresses for the press. About how wrong he was.

  Rainer’s thumb traces a small circle on my face. “What I’m saying is, I won’t make this decision for you. But I realized while I was gone how much I want to be with you. To make sure nothing happens to you. I want to get to be that person for you.” He gently moves me off his lap, and takes my hands in his. “Could you say something?” he asks me, his green eyes wide. “I’m kind of dying over here.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” A million thoughts are scrambling to take center stage. One threatens to push through, but I clamp it down, shut it out.

  “Why don’t you take some time?” I can see the hurt in his eyes. I know it’s taking everything in him to suggest that, and my heart swells so big I think it might burst. I just want to leap back into his arms and stay there.

  But he’s right. Being together means something. We’re not just a couple. If we do this, it’s for real.

  “Okay,” I say.

  He smiles. “Okay.”

  “How long do I have to think for?” I ask.

  He laughs, and so do I. It feels good. It cuts the tension.

  “You’re going home, right?” he says. “See your family. Think about it there. I’m going to be in Europe shooting for a while, anyway. You can tell me at the premiere.”

  I nod, remembering he’s doing a movie in Prague while we wait for the release of Locked. I suddenly think of the scripts stacked up in my condo. Of how my agent keeps saying I should line up a project.

  “All of that seems far away,” I say. “It’s months.”

  His eyes look into mine. He nods. “It is. Feel free to cut to the chase and tell me you’re ready now. But I think you need time.”

  I drop my eyes to my hands. “I know.”

  He makes a move to get up, and then decides against it because in the next instant he’s right next to me—his hands on either side of my face. He kisses me, parting my lips with his. I reach up and thread my fingers through his hair. I breathe him in—plumeria and vanilla and warmth and something else, too. Comfort. Home. “Something to consider,” he says. Then he holds out his hand and helps me up.

  The end of filming comes too quickly, like a cold blast when the leaves haven’t even changed yet. When Wyatt calls “that’s a wrap” for the last time, it feels like everything is coming to an end, not just this movie. I can’t shake the feeling that maybe this was all some fluke, a glitch in the system, and come next week I’ll be back on a plane to Portland for good.

  But that’s also not entirely true. I’ll be back in Portland, but not forever. I’m going to do that small daughter role in the indie script I read a few weeks back. It shoots in Seattle, so I’ll be close to home, and it should only take two months. It will keep me busy while Rainer is in Europe.

  “I’m proud of you,” Rainer tells me at the wrap party that night. The cast and crew are having a bonfire on “our” beach, and they’ve set up a projection screen outside underneath the stars.

  “For the gag reel,” Jessica tells me. Tonight she has on a white dress and dangly gold earrings, and her hair is piled on top of her head, a few wisps hanging down, skimming her cheeks like angel wings. She’s beautiful. Totally stunning. Even Rainer looks at her, impressed. I don’t blame him.

  “It’s the best part,” Rainer says. “We used to do one every season on Backsplash.”

  I remember watching Backsplash. It was on the Disney Channel. Britney was in it, too, and a few other child actors who graduated to star on television shows Cassandra obsessively watches.

  “It’s true,” Jessica says. “It’s kind of become a traditional part of the wrap party.”

  They’ve set up benches on the beach—long logs—and Rainer and I take a seat on one toward the left, in front of the projection screen. Sandy floats over in some combination silk-and-crepe outfit and squeezes Rainer on the shoulder before sitting down behind us. One of Gillian’s assistants is fiddling with the video equipment, and the rest of the crew make their way to the benches as well. I try to focus center, willing my shoulders to stay squared. Don’t turn around.

  Jordan probably isn’t here, anyway. Gag reels don’t exactly seem like his thing. And I’m not sure he’s so interested in being in the same time zone as me or Rainer. But despite whatever rational-thought blocks I try to impose on my mind, the feeling slips in like fog through the slits of a fence. I can feel him. The same way I can when he comes on set when I’m in the middle of filming a scene.

  Don’t turn around, I tell myself again.

  Rainer’s sitting next to me, and I can feel the guilt seeping into my limbs like a drop of food coloring in water. It turns everything red.

  “I really hope they got that shot of y
ou puking salt water,” Rainer says.

  I nudge him in the ribs, and he laughs. He’s got his hands tucked under him, and he’s looking at me and smiling. He’s been so gentle with me since our talk in his condo a couple of weeks ago. He doesn’t kiss me. Or talk about our relationship. He’s just been a friend. But sitting here, looking at his impossibly gorgeous face, I feel like I don’t need until the premiere. I want to tell him right now that this is what I want. I don’t care about what comes with it. I’m ready. I’m about to open my mouth when Gillian comes into view in front of the screen.

  “All right, guys, we’re going to get started. Dan over here”—she points to her assistant, who gives us a half wave—“has put together some fun stuff that I for one can’t wait to see.” Gillian squints, and folds her palm over her forehead. “I can’t see here, so I don’t know where you are. Where’s Wyatt?”

  I see him standing on the sidelines, shaking his head. He rolls his eyes when Gillian calls him out. “Wyatt,” she says. “You’re not the easiest taskmaster.” I hear Rainer mutter something under his breath. It sounds like understatement. “But you are,” Gillian continues, “an incredible director. It has been a pleasure to serve you on this movie.”

  I look over at Wyatt. He nods once and then looks at me, and in that moment I feel an overwhelming sense of affection for him. The first months seem to have boiled so long they’ve evaporated. He’s taught me hard and strong and at some points, without much delicacy—but he’s also made me better. I don’t feel like I used to on set. Going to this new movie in Seattle, I don’t feel afraid.

  Gillian is saying something, and Rainer whistles and throws his hands over his head. “Excellent,” Gillian says. “You two.” I feel my face get hot and pinch my hands together. “You’ve given us some amazing material—both intentionally and unintentionally.” Everyone starts to laugh, including Rainer. “It’s been a real treat to watch you guys work.”

  Rainer blows a kiss, and Gillian smiles. “Where’s Wilder?” she asks. My heart leaps into my throat so fast I swear Rainer can see it.

  Gillian’s smile softens, and she motions with her hand for Jordan to come forward. I swivel around. He’s walking this way, arms folded across his chest, T-shirt pulled tight against his shoulders. He nods at Gillian and glances around nervously. Almost like he’s not sure he belongs. He slides onto the bench across from Rainer and me and keeps his head ducked down.

  “Jordan, you already know how I feel about you,” Gillian says. “You’re a force to be reckoned with, kid. I love ya.” She turns her gaze back to the larger crowd. “Thank you to our crew. Camden, Jessica, Andre. Everyone. You have all been amazing. So let’s roll this thing.”

  Everyone starts clapping and cheering, and then Gillian flicks a remote behind her and sits down next to Jordan. I watch her sling an arm over his shoulder and then him reach around and pull her down into a hug.

  The gag reel starts—10, 9, 8—and then it’s our audition tapes. First it’s me in my jeans and sleeveless button-down at the Aladdin in Portland. I look nervous, bumbling. God, this seems like a long time ago. I want to shut it off, or at least for Jordan not to see. Rainer puts his arm around me and squeezes.

  He lets me go as the scene changes—now it’s us practicing that kissing scene. There are some whoops from the crowd; Lillianna yells, “Hot damn!” They’ve set the whole thing to eighties pop music, and the effect is sort of funny. We look ridiculous.

  Next it’s Wyatt yelling. There’s a montage that transitions to him ranting at Rainer about how Mumford & Sons is the most overrated band since Coldplay. Rainer is laughing so hard I see tears sliding down his cheeks.

  Then it’s some outtakes from the Scene photo shoot. Luckily they either didn’t capture or didn’t include the footage of Rainer saying he wanted to kiss me in front of the entire cast and crew. Beyoncé is playing, and Jordan, Rainer, and I are laughing on the polka-dot set, the only time in the entire duration of filming I can remember the three of us getting along.

  There’s Jessica dropping things. I glance at her and see her standing next to Wyatt, watching through her fingers, but Wyatt puts a hand on her shoulder.

  Then it cuts to a clip of Rainer giving the second unit crew a tour of his condo. “I’m really into pineapples,” he informs them, holding a throw pillow up to his chest. Everyone laughs around us, and Rainer stands up and gives a little bow.

  There’s a montage of us filming. One shot of me getting salt water sprayed up my nose and running around the beach like I’m on fire. Everyone laughs again, even Jordan.

  There’s stuff with our production assistants and our boom-mike operator, Tyler, who I’m pretty sure has hooked up with every single one of the girls at reception. He’s pretty hot.

  Then there is footage from the scene of August and Ed’s kiss. I shrink as soon as I see it flash on the screen. Jordan’s arms around me, my lips on his. I can feel Rainer next to me, the extended exhale of his breath. Please cut away, I silently pray. Please.

  But the camera only moves closer. There are no hollers or whoops like with the footage of Rainer and me. There is just dead silence, so still I can hear the buzz of the projector.

  Jordan-as-Ed’s hands move from my face, through my hair and down around my back. I pull my own arms tighter around me. I feel a little like I did in Gillian’s office that day. Like the on-screen me and the real me here, right now, are connected somehow, fused. When he pulls back and looks at me, I half expect to see the Jordan sitting here doing the same.

  The camera lingers on the two of us post-kiss. Somewhere you can hear Wyatt call cut, and we just keep standing there stupidly. Suddenly I’m angry. How did Gillian’s assistant think this was funny? It’s not. It’s mean.

  Finally after what feels like years, the screen flips to Sandy talking on her cell phone. There’s a montage of her in silk, on her phone. I hear some nervous laughter, and then by the time the opera music starts up and there are close-ups of her face and the phone like the two are lovers, there is a rolling, raucous applause.

  Except for Rainer. He isn’t laughing. I bite my lip and turn to face him. “It’s good, huh?” I quip. He doesn’t look at me. He keeps his eyes fixed on the screen. I ramble on, like if I push ahead I’ll somehow push away whatever he saw, too. “I wonder if Gillian cut the whole thing herself. She’s pretty talented. I thought that thing on the beach was hilarious. I totally forgot about getting water up my—”

  Rainer interrupts. “What’s going on?” he asks. His tone is cold. Not angry, just cool, like steel.

  “Nothing,” I say. I try to talk around the tremor in my voice, but I know he hears it. The gag reel has ended with a picture of the three of us, one they took a few weeks ago—my arms over both Rainer’s and Jordan’s shoulders. The screen fades, and everyone starts to clap.

  “I was so stupid. I didn’t even notice it.” Rainer shakes his head. “Did you hook up with him while I was away?”

  No no no no. “What are you talking about?” I reach for him, but he moves away.

  “I’m talking about you and Jordan,” he says. “I’m not blind, Paige. I saw that kiss on-screen.”

  “In what? A video? That’s acting, Rainer.” I’m trying to keep my voice low, but people are beginning to look at us.

  He opens his mouth, then pauses. What comes out is, “No one is that good.”

  He stands. So do I. “You mean I’m not that good.”

  He exhales sharply. He steps closer to me and keeps his voice low. “Commit, then,” he says.

  “What?”

  “Tell me you want to be with me. That you’re all in. Right now.”

  “I…”

  Rainer shakes his head. “You can’t. And can you honestly tell me there is nothing going on between you two?”

  People are starting to get up. I imagine Jordan somewhere behind me walking with Gillian over to the fire pit, sipping a mai tai and sliding down next to Wyatt. Did the video upset him, too? Did he even notice?
I don’t know why I keep assuming he cares.

  Because I do. I care.

  “No,” I tell Rainer. “I can’t.”

  If he is surprised, he doesn’t show it. He holds up his hands. “I won’t do this,” he says. Then he turns and starts walking back toward the condos.

  I watch him go. The moon is shining—a silver, glittering mass on the water, like the shadow of a stranger—and for a moment I feel more alone than I have in my entire life. I’m used to being surrounded by people and feeling alone. It’s the way I grew up—a million people around but no one really with you, and tonight reminds me of what I’ve known all along: I don’t really have anyone. Not Jake and not Cassandra. Not Jordan. Not even Rainer.

  This was my dream. The only thing I can ever remember wanting to do. When I was four, I told my mom I was going to be an actress. She even filmed me at the dinner table, her red lipstick swiped across my lips, as I declared it to the camera: “Someday I, Paige Townsen, am going to be a star.”

  It’s everything I ever wanted. I’m acting. I have a film contract. People the world over will soon know my name. I’m living my dream. But all I can think about is how my heart seems to be falling through my body—down down down.

  And then I hear footsteps behind me, and a familiar voice at my heels. “Hey, can we talk?”

  I know it’s Jordan. I recognize his breathing, the curve of his words, but I don’t turn around. I don’t want to talk, to be reminded, again, of everything that has gone wrong.

  “Paige.” I hear his voice like in the car—quiet and pleading.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and then head back toward the condos.

  That’s the thing about success. It changes a lot, but not everything. You still have bad hair days. Friendships that have fallen apart won’t miraculously be fixed. And people who didn’t love you before still won’t. Because the one thing success never changes, no matter what level you reach, is what has already happened.

  CHAPTER 20