Page 52 of Love Scenes

The way he leans over makes a tendril of his hair drift forward, curling up onto his forehead. “That was... unexpected,” he whispers.

“Should I have done something else?”

“No,” he says abruptly. “God. No.”

There’s a sudden softness to him I want to touch. To know. I press a hand to his face, running my finger along his cheek. He catches my thumb and kisses it. The strum throughout my body momentarily lulls, breaking me out of my haze.

After all I’ve told myself. Every promise I made. Joseph Donovan is on top of me right now.

And I would be lying if I said I wanted him to be anywhere other than right where he is.

“Don’t tell me you’re panicking,” he says.

He starts kissing me again, short sweet pecks that move from my lips to my cheeks to my neck. “Do. Not. Tell. Me. You. Are.Panicking.” Each word is its own sentence, spoken between kisses. He takes his hands and presses into my ribs, playfully prodding at my sides. “Not. Now. That. I. Know. This. Is. Possible.”

“I’m not panicking!” I yelp out. “I was worried about kissing you without permission!”

“You have it. Trust me. It’s yours.”

We both go still again, studying each other. His focus on me is unlike anything I’ve ever seen from him before. He watches me intently, a quiet, hungry appraisal that makes me feel more wanted than I’ve felt in a very long time. He mimics me from a moment ago and puts a hand on my face, his thumb brushing my cheek with the tenderest of strokes.

There’s an aggressive knock on the trailer door.

“Sloanius! You in there?”

Myfather.

I shove Joseph off me and spring up to open the door in one fluid motion, so swift I stub my foot on the side of the couch. The pain doesn’t quite reach me. Nothing can right now.

“Hey!” I say, way too loudly. It’s not only my dad, but Sarai and Daya too.

My lips have gone numb and my body’s tingling. I can feel my hair is askew, so I reach up and flop it to the other side with a casual, disaffected lean, pretending it’s a thoughtless move, all the while holding my breath to stop my heart from racing. My hairstylist is going to kill me. She asked me to touch my head as little as possible.

I don’t even want to think about my makeup.

“The blond really makes you look like your mother.” Dad reaches out to touch a piece, his hand grazing the same spot on my face Joseph held moments ago.

It’s the same creepy sixth sense he’s had all his life. Like thetime I was a senior in high school and I accidentally scraped the driver side of his car against a pole. I called Mom in a panic, and she cursed me up and down for forcing her to help, then paid a body shop a ridiculous amount of money in cash to fix it the same day. When Dad came home that night from doing a bunch of press, I watched from the garage door as he absentmindedly ran his hand along the side of the car, right where the scrape had been only hours before. “How’d it ride for ya today?” he’d asked.

In the present, I swat him away. “Don’t you know by now not to touch anyone’s hair without asking?” It takes everything in my power not to adjust my dress, which feels twisted to the left.

“Is Joe in there?” Dad asks.

Joseph literally leaps out of the trailer and onto the pavement. “Sure the hell am!” He starts gallivanting around with all the swagger of a John Wayne impersonator. “We were just runnin’ a bit of our later scene work together.”

Technically not a lie.

Daya and I share a quick glance. She knows exactly what’s going on.

I can now quite distinctly feel my stubbed toe throbbing.

“Sorry to have interrupted the process. I wanted a chance to congratulate my baby girl.The star. Haven’t seen her in person since the news broke.” Dad beams at me. “I’m proud of you, kiddo. If there is anyone who’s up to a task like this, it’s you.”

“I told him we should wait until you came to set,” Daya says, apologetic. “He couldn’t be convinced otherwise.”

“That’s not entirely true. Sarai wanted to see what the trailers look like,” Dad tells me.

“I’ve seenmanytrailers, Dad,” Sarai argues.