Page 1 of Love Scenes

1

Week One of Production

Slumped into my sectional with cold pasta in my lap and a glass of water balanced against a pillow, I type my name into the Netflix search bar.

S-L-O-A-N-E.

F-O-R-D.

The first four seasons of my crime scene proceduralThe Seekercome up first. There I am with a dark brunette bob, wearing a lab coat and hustling around, giving everyone coy looks while cracking guarded jokes, making sure my harmless crush on Detective Colfax is only a touch better disguised than my chest, which is always slightly revealed in a V-neck.

The Seekerhas filmed almost one hundred episodes. Ninety-two feature me as a clever-but-soft blood spatter analyst named Tess, best known for her ability to coldly analyze a dead body, then turn all fluttery and fumbling around her crush. Not a single one features anything I need to see right now. Getting surprisinglykilled off in the third episode of the fifth season of a critically ignored drama? One my own family doesn’t even bother to tune in for anymore?

That’s punishment enough.

A strange crackle coming from the direction of my kitchen startles me. At 3:43 in the morning, the television is my only source of light, softly glowing onto my tear-swollen face. Otherwise my house is pitch-dark.

For an agonizing stretch I sit frozen, ticking down my options.

It’s an intruder coming to murder me, and my only weapons are an Apple TV remote, a lethal dose of self-pity, and a fork.

It’s my younger sister Tyler ending our unspoken standoff and surprising me with a visit, ready to crash in her old bedroom before our first day of shooting tomorrow.

It’s one of the constant murmurs of this strange old place in the hills of Laurel Canyon, full of crooked nooks and squeaking floorboards. Sloped ceilings and a small stained glass window in the bathroom of all places.

It’s obviously number three,I decide with a tentative exhale.

This home was meant for shared gasps at unexplained sounds. For laughter to cover the bristle of shrubbery in the backyard. But Tyler’s got her own condo now. A girlfriend to live with and a rescue pup.

I’ve got leftover bucatini on my lap and a deep-seated fear that I’m not talented enough to ever work in this town again.

BelowThe Seeker, there’s one other Sloane Ford propertyavailable to stream. And of course it’sA Little Luck, because even Netflix is mocking me. The last thing I want to watch is Joseph Donovan’s smug grin while I self-soothe with cold pasta and light crying.

A Little Luckwas by far the worst filming experience I’ve ever had. Thinking of that production sends a shiver down my spine, especially considering what I’m facing tomorrow.

Which is exactly why I press play.

The film opens on the lush Irish countryside, cast against searing gray skies. In spite of myself, the sight still makes me suck back a longing breath, gulping like the Killarney breezes are once again lashing my cheeks.

The opener is an overhead tracking shot, following me on a bicycle as I wheel through town. My stunt double shot most of it. It’s a seamless transition from her to me. By the time I park my bike next to the market and take off my helmet, only a trained eye would notice that my shoulders aren’t quite as defined as hers. My skin a shade paler. The dyed red of my hair a touch more yellow.

The first twenty minutes are pretty stale. My work is fine—I was still doing too much with my face back then, a theater tic I’ve put a lot of conscious effort toward calming. Mom told me not to start with stage training. She said to do on-camera work and scene study classes outside of college and get a degree in something else. Dad told me he cut his teeth in the theater when he went to California State back in the day, and that all great actors need that kind of foundation.

As usual, I listened to the wrong parent.

A Little Luckdrags on until—it pains me to even think it—Joseph Donovan appears. He’s the stock boy at the costume store where my character is working. She’s an American who has takena year off school to find herself in Ireland. He’s staying in town to save money and earn back his family’s farm after they’re forced to sell. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but this isn’t a movie designed to require an examination of the specifics. It’s all about glances. Touches. Wind through hair as lovers kiss atop a cliff.