Page 86 of Good at Being Alive
“Look,” I begin slowly. “Theo wasn’t feeling great yesterday. Shooting this is a lot more stressful than I’m sure it appears on-screen, and the stress is cumulative. We don’t wake up and startfresh. We wake up worn down by the previous days and all the pressure, and then we’ve got to go on camera and have it appear that we’re having the time of our lives.”
Lars nods, as if everything I’ve said makes sense and is entirely reasonable. This is why he’s so good at his job…because he can think one way and behave in another way entirely. “Tell me a little about what happened with Caden, but do me a favor and don’t refer to him by name. Just call him a crew member.”
I sigh. I’m not even sure I should discuss this on camera. What if Caden sues? He seems like the kind of weasel who would. “A member of the crew has been hitting on me pretty consistently since we first began filming, some of it out in the open—one of the directors had to personally tell him to knock it off in Capri. It’s been getting worse as it’s gone along.”
“And did you share any of this with Theo?”
Where is he going with this? I don’t fault Lars and Paula, but they’ve always got an angle. Maybe they’re going to make me look like an unhinged troublemaker who led her sweet husband to violence.
“Only recently. And that unfortunately seemed to coincide with the crew member being a lot worse in front of Theo. It almost felt intentional.”
His head tilts. “You said earlier that we make you act like you’re having the time of your life. Are you not actually enjoying this?”
My lips purse. “I didn’t say that.”
He nods. “Tell me your favorite moments of the trip thus far.”
“In Paris?” I gulp.
What am I supposed to say? All my favorite moments have been off camera. The two of us alone. And not even necessarily the day we just spent in bed. I loved lying beside him in the dark after my nightmare. I loved sharing a bottle of wine on the Five Guys terrace and talking to him during the second half of our endless run. I loved seeing his face every morning and standingin line at the kiosk downstairs for lattes and croissants while I tried to make him laugh. And I’m not saying any of this on camera because eventually it will end, if it hasn’t already ended, and this will all be…humiliating. “We went out the night before last and wound up at this bar. That was very fun. And…”
“And?” he prompts.
The damage is already done, isn’t it? Theo probably has a very good idea how I feel whether or not I admit it on camera, and the camera’s caught it as well. “It isn’t about doing anything in particular,” I admit, my eyes falling closed. “It was just about being here together.”
“So when it’s just you and Theo together, it’s fun and it feels like a vacation?” he asks.
“Why do I feel like I’m on trial here?” I ask, just as someone knocks on the door. Katrina goes to answer and returns with a box forme.
The note attached says, “Eat up. You’ll need your energy when I see you in Norway next week.”
Theo.I’m already grinning ear to ear before I open the box, which contains donut holes, naturally. I have no idea how he managed to find donut holes in Paris and get them deliveredfrom a train.But it’s not the behavior of a man who’s about to tell me we’re better off as friends. Nor is it the behavior of a man who’s serious with someone else.
Lars raises a brow.
“Theo sent donut holes,” I tell him. Jesus, I’mblushing.I don’t want the crew to know what’s going on with us, not when it could still fall apart, but I can’t knock the smile off my face.
Paula and Katrina smirk at each other. “I think we’ve got it,” Paula says. “LJ can grab some B-roll and we’re out.”
I don’t know what they got when I never answered a single question about Paris.
I’m too happy to care.
Bex
Paris is a very differentcity when you’re ridiculously infatuated.
The tourists—jostling for space on the sidewalk and stopping right in front of you—seem more cheerful and less bothersome. The snotty waiter deriding your accent is perhaps just having a bad day as opposed to being a fucking dick who deserves the zero percent tip you’re now leaving him.
And yes, every once in a while, there’s this sharp spike of fear in my chest when I consider the fact that all this happiness rides on the behavior of a man who lives on a different continent and who keeps every inch of his life—his love life, specifically—on lockdown. I brush it away by insisting that it’s nothing I need to worry about right now, though I’m not sure that’s true.
“How was your interview?” he asks when he calls that night, casual as can be. As if we’re a couple. I fight an insane impulse to hope we are. “Fuck this. Hang on.”
A moment later he’s calling me back on video. My smile is too wide, too giddy. Ridiculous. I can’t make it stop.
“Are you calling on video to make sure Caden’s not in the room?” I ask.
“Are you bringing up Caden just so that I take the train back there in a fit of jealousy?” he counters.
