Karen finished a piece with a furious bout of bowing and there was polite applause from the crowd. Nat and Clarissa sank down out of their pirouettes. “Enough,” said Clarissa. “I can’t feel my legs.”
The three other quartet players made similar grumbling noises about their hands. Karen looked around at them, amazed. I swear, she’d have played on through a blizzard if she wasn’t worried about her cello. “Okay,” she said reluctantly. “Fine. Starbucks.”
I hopped from foot to foot as I waited for her to put her cello in its case and for Nat and Clarissa to grab their bags. Darrell and Connor, who’d been leaning against trees watching, came to stand next to me. “Hurry,” I whimpered. “I think I’ve lost some toes to frostbite.”
“It’s not that cold,” said Karen. “You’re just dressed wrong. You worry too much about fashion.” She was wearing her Very Sensible polar explorer coat. Given her size, it looked as if she’d got inside a tent and then poked her head out of a hole at the top. That said, it did look warm, which my jeans and thin sweater definitely weren’t. But the tight green sweater, together with the ass-hugging jeans and the bright red shoes, were just....very Jasmine. And I’d needed a top-up dose of Jasmine that morning, when I’d dressed. I’d needed to know who I was.
Karen was changing, though. Yes, she still thought fashion was silly, but I’d noticed that she’d started going shopping with Clarissa. Before Connor came along, she’d either dressed in jeans, sweatshirts and sneakers or super-conservative blouses and skirts. Now, though, I’d see her in a dress looking totally gorgeous, every bit the sophisticated New Yorker. And I was ecstatic for her...but it just added to the feeling that I was being left behind.
***
Neil jogged up and kissed Clarissa just as we got to Starbucks, so it’s fair to say we made an entrance: a string quartet with their instruments, two ballet dancers, a biker, an Irishman in a black leather jacket, a millionaire in a tailored suit and me, shivering and holding my hands up to the warm air jetting out of the heater above the door.
It took three trays to carry all the coffees and cakes. We pushed some tables together in a corner and huddled.
“Sooo…” said Nat, “how’s filming?”
“Yeah, who are you starring with? I want to IMDB them,” said Clarissa.
“Mostly newcomers,” I said. “No really big names. And some of the cast are real cops. For realism.”
Darrell leaned forward, running a hand down Nat’s back. She arched it like a cat and glanced round adoringly at him. “Nat said you were the love interest?”
Karen grinned. “Yes. With a real cop? Who is he? What does he look like?”
Connor caught my eye. He must have figured it out, after he saw me at the gym with Ryan. I didn’t want to sit there and lie to everyone. And they were going to find out sooner or later anyway—it was amazing I’d managed to keep it a secret this long.
The hell with it.
“Actually, it’s Ryan,” I said breezily.
If there had been background music playing, it would have stopped. There was a plop! as Clarissa dropped her salted caramel slice into her coffee.
“WHAT?!” asked Karen, Nat and Clarissa simultaneously.
“Who?” asked Darrell, Connor and Neil.
“Ryan Ryan?” asked Karen. “Sexy Ryan with the eyes?”
“Sexy Ryan?” murmured Connor in her ear.
Karen blushed. “He’s one of the cops from the night Dan was mugged,” she said. Dan, who was sitting across the table, nodded. He’d scraped through and graduated alongside Karen despite his broken arm, and was long since healed. He still played with the quartet and his latest boyfriend sometimes came to hear them play.
Neil frowned. “The one who thought Jasmine was a—OWW! Jesus!” He gave Clarissa a mock glare and rubbed his shin, then kissed her.
“Yes!” I said, finally getting a word in. “Yes, that Ryan.”
“He’s your love interest?!” Karen was practically panting. “That’s fantastic! Does he remember you?”
I swallowed some coffee, playing for time. I’d known they’d be interested, but I wasn’t expecting this. “Oh, you know. Vaguely.”
“And you have to kiss him?” asked Nat. “Like, tongues?”
I thought of the sex scene near the end of the script. Kisses were the least of my worries. “Yep,” I said brightly.
They all looked at me expectantly.
“What?” I asked, knowing full well what.
“So what’s happening?” asked Clarissa, trying to fish a disintegrating salted caramel slice out of her coffee without burning her fingers. “Are you seeing him, off-set?!”
I shook my head. “Come on, you know how it is. We’re actors. It’s just a part. Just because we kiss on screen...I mean, most of the people you see cuddling up on TV are married to other people.”
Karen leaned forward. “Except...he’s not an actor. And you’re not married to other people—you’re single. Is he still single?”
“Yes,” I said hesitantly.
“And he’s completely smitten with you,” said Karen. “Ever since he first met you. I gave him your phone number, back when I was doing the duet with Connor.”
So that’s how he got my number. God, he’d kept it, all that time? My heart had time to do a little dance before I clamped savagely down on it. “It’s just a job,” I said. But I could feel my face flushing.
“A job where you have to kiss a totally hot guy who’s already got a thing for you,” said Clarissa. “Are you kidding us?”
“I don’t—He’s not my type!” I said firmly.
“Really?” asked Nat. “Blue-eyed, huge, muscly good-looking guys aren’t your type?”
“I’m an actress. He’s a cop!”
Clarissa shrugged. “So? Look at Neil.”
Neil shook his head. “Cops aren’t my type either.”
Clarissa gave him a look and leaned forward. “If I can date a biker and Nat can date a billionaire—”
“Millionaire,” said Darrell tiredly.
“—you can absolutely date a cop.”
“I am not dating a cop!” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m just kissing him!”
That had sounded better in my head. I held up my hands before anyone else could say anything. “I just want to keep it simple,” I said. “This is my big break. I don’t want to screw it up.”
And then I realized that they were all looking at me. “What?!”
Nat shook her head. “Just...you didn’t sound like you, just then.” The others nodded. “Are you okay?”
She was right. Fun, bouncy, flirty Jasmine would never be so adamant about not dating a guy. She would have just gone ahead and slept with him and then told them all about how great the sex was. Between the breakdown after the gym and trying to manage my feelings for Ryan, I’d forgotten to keep shoring up Jasmine. They’d caught a glimpse of Emma.
That had never happened before. Maybe Karen had gotten a glimpse, once or twice, but not like this, not all of them together when we were just casually having coffee.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m just working too hard. I think I need a vacation. Get away somewhere. Hey, we should totally do that. Group vacation. We should all go somewhere hot, like...Mexico.” And I did my very best grin and prayed. And it worked—they nodded and started talking about it. Who knows? If I can hold things together long enough to get the show in the can, maybe we really could all go away somewhere. I’d only meant it as a way of distracting them, but a week on a beach sounded like bliss.
And then I remembered something. Maybe I could distract them some more, and help Clarissa at the same time. I turned to Neil. “Clarissa mentioned that you took some trips,” I said. “Go anywhere interesting?”
Neil gave me a glower. Wow, when he did that he suddenly looked very....big. And powerful. And dangerous, in an extremely sexy way. Is this what it’s like for Clarissa? Down, Jasmine! He’s taken!
But it had worked. Clarissa spu
n around to face her man. “Where are you going, this time?” she asked in a voice like a scalpel dipped in honey. Neil frowned and pulled her aside. I had the feeling this was going to turn into one of their rows, probably swiftly followed by one of their sex sessions. Having to listen to their bouts of pleasure—and pain—was one of the reasons Nat had given for moving out of their apartment and into Darrell’s mansion, the moaning and screaming and the sound of leather on skin too much for her. Watching the couple talk in hushed, urgent tones, I couldn’t help wondering what it was like, being the sexual plaything of a huge biker.
After long minutes of muttering and glaring at each other, the sexual heat rising along with their tempers, Clarissa finally snapped “I’m coming!” loud enough for us to hear.
“Fine!” shouted Neil.
“Fine!”
We all pretended to be studying our coffee.
“I’m going with him this time. Finally,” said Clarissa, rejoining us. She looked just a little smug that she’d finally gotten her own way.
“Good.” I nodded, along with Nat and Karen. “Where is it you’re going?”
Clarissa spun around to look at Neil and I realized she still didn’t know. She’d had that whole argument with him and persuaded him to take her along without actually knowing where they were heading off to.
Neil sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Vegas,” he said tiredly.
Clarissa’s eyes bugged out. “Vegas?! That’s where you’ve been going on all these trips? Vegas?! I thought it was business!”
“It is business,” he told her.
“But what—”
Neil suddenly walked over to her, his biker boots clumping on the floor, leaned over the table and put his finger to her lips. We could feel it coming off him, then, in thick, hot waves—that thing he did. His no more nonsense; you’re mine thing. I think Nat and Karen both melted a bit. I know I did.
Clarissa went instantly silent, like someone had thrown a switch.
Neil put his mouth close to her ear. He whispered, but we were close enough to catch, “Don’t think just because mutter mutter friends mutter mutter over my knee mutter mutter good spanking.”
Clarissa’s face turned steadily redder and redder.
“I need to go to the club house,” said Neil, standing up straight. “Catch you all later.” And he sauntered off.
Clarissa sat there blushing for maybe five seconds before she squeaked, “I’mgoingnowtoo, bye!” and ran out the door. A few seconds later, we saw her catch up to Neil through the window, briefly berate him, and then fling herself into his arms. We all went Aw...
“They have a very weird relationship,” said Nat mildly. And, suddenly romantic, she pulled Darrell close.
Karen did the same with Connor. Both of them had big grins on their faces and, however happy I was that they’d both found someone, a pang of jealousy still hit me right in the heart.
I sighed and sat back with my coffee, watching the happy couples. Tomorrow, I’d be back to filming and I’d have to pretend to be in love while also pretending not to be. Everyone else had to act when the cameras rolled. Ryan and I had to act as soon as they stopped.
At least I’d managed to find a way of working with him. We had the kissing scene out of the way and the next chunk of the script was just plot stuff. That should give everything a chance to calm down.
My phone rang. Dixon. I hurried outside to answer it and stood there shivering while I listened to him, my eyes growing wider and wider.
“The love scene?” I repeated. “Tomorrow?”
Chapter 32
Ryan
“The love scene?” I said. “Tomorrow?”
“That’s funny,” said Dixon. “That’s exactly what Jasmine said when I told her.”
I’d been sitting on the couch. Suddenly, I was pacing. Really fast pacing. “But—the love scene’s not until right at the end!” I said.
“Yeah, well you know how it goes. Weather’s going to push back some of the exterior scenes. There are a few bits of the station remodel that aren’t done yet. But Isabel’s bedroom—that’s all ready. We can get the love scene out of the way while we wait.”
I swallowed. “So she’ll be...naked.”
“Not fully naked. This isn’t one of those swords and sandals shows with dragons and stuff.”
I relaxed a little.
“Jasmine will probably have a couple of sticking plasters on,” said Dixon. “Maybe a thong.”
I unrelaxed.
“And you’ll have something to cover you, too,” said Dixon. “I mean, we’ll see your butt, but not your cock.”
I didn’t just hear that. We are not discussing—
“We’ll make sure you’ve got something to tuck your cock away in,” said Dixon.
We are discussing my cock.
“So relax, big guy. Some gasping, some moaning, some rolling around. I’ve seen the chemistry you two have together. It’ll be fine.”
When he’d gone, I stood there staring at myself in the mirror. For close to a year, all I’d wanted to do was to get Jasmine naked. I mean, sure, I wanted all the other stuff too. I wanted to hug her and protect her and take her to a fairground and run through a goddamn field holding her hand. I wanted to be with her, not just have sex with her. But that didn’t mean I was any less hot for her. I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head, day or night.
One glimpse of that perfect, curvaceous body was enough to stop all activity in my brain, whether she was wearing one of those summer dresses she liked so much or the snug cop pants they’d given her for the show. What the hell would it be like when she was next-to-naked?
Next-to-naked and under me?
How the hell was this meant to work? What if I got a hard-on? Was I meant to? Would Jasmine be offended if I did or offended if I didn’t?
***
The next day, still shell-shocked, I stood staring at the bed.
I was in the bedroom of Isabel’s apartment. Actually, the bedroom was all there was—just one room, sitting in the middle of the TV studio. In fact, not even a full room, because there was no ceiling. Just four walls and then, high overhead, a big lighting rig. It was sort of like being in a weird, life-sized dollhouse.
I was in my own clothes for once, because we were going to start off by rehearsing the scene clothed. I’d had no idea what you were meant to wear when rolling around on a bed simulating sex, so I’d gone for sweatpants and a tank top.
Jasmine walked in. She’d actually gone for something similar—leggings and a t-shirt. She looked cheerful and relaxed, cracking jokes with the camera crew. And then she caught my eye and I caught just a glimpse, just a millisecond of what was going on in her head.
Like me, she was utterly petrified.
“Okay,” said Dixon. “Let’s block it out.” He grabbed my shoulder. “You come in here—as we start the scene, Isabel’s astride you, in her underwear—”
“Astride me?” I managed.
“You know—you’re carrying her, and she’s got her legs around your waist.”
Jasmine and I exchanged looks. “Okay….” I said, and motioned her forward.
She took two running steps and jumped, and I scooped her up and—
Pain exploded in my groin as her knee slammed into my balls. I kept hold of her, pulling her to me, but staggered. There was a collective “Ooh…” of sympathy from every male crew member on the set.
“What,” I croaked, “was that?”
Jasmine had her hands to her mouth. “Sorry,” she said. “Are you okay?”
I gently set her down and turned away from her for a moment, doubling up, a million colorful curses going through my head. “Mmm-hmm,” I said in a strained voice. My groin was throbbing in white-hot agony, but it gradually cooled to red hot and then merely scalding hot. I gingerly straightened up and turned back to her.
“Okay,” said Dixon gamely. “Let’s try that again. Carefully.”
Jasmine jumped at me again and
this time her legs went either side of me. Immediately, the pain in my balls was forgotten. All I was aware of was the soft press of her breasts against me, the smell of her hair in my face.
“You set her down on the bed on her back,” said Dixon, “And she opens her legs—”
“Where will the camera be?” squeaked Jasmine, horrified.
“Behind Tony, looking right at you. But his body will block yours, so it’ll be fine,” said Dixon.
I slowly went through the actions, while Dixon and what felt like a million camera operators checked the shot. Then he had me mime taking off her bra. And then slipping off her panties. Taking off a pair of invisible panties should have been funny, but knowing we were going to be doing this for real, nearly nude, in another hour, made it all feel very serious. Jasmine’s eyes were huge as I finished supposedly stripping her naked. My thighs were between hers and, even with me in sweatpants and her in leggings, it was hard not to think I’m between her legs. I’m actually between Jasmine’s legs.
“Then you kiss her,” said Dixon.
“Wait, he takes off my underwear and then he kisses me?” asked Jasmine.
Dixon nodded. “I want that whole, ‘he’s barely touching you’ until the kiss. Reverent. Like he’s worshipping your body. And then after the kiss, the mood changes and we go hot and heavy.”
I could feel my whole face burning. I couldn’t believe he was actually talking about how we—No, not us. Tony and Isabel. It’s Tony and Isabel.
“Okay,” said Jasmine.
“Try it now. We need to check focus for a close-up,” said Dixon. “No tongues.”
“No tongues?” I asked. That is the weirdest question I’ve ever had to ask.
Dixon nodded. “It looked fine in the locker room, but in close-up, tongues are too much. Just sort of play with her lips. Nibble on them.”
I’m being told how to kiss. There were about twenty different lights on us, but the heat was nothing compared to the burning press of all those eyes.
Acting Brave (Fenbrook Academy #3) Page 20