Page 51 of Love Scenes

“Okay. Next, I want to say that I’ve done everything I can think of to prove to you that I’m not the same person I used to be.”

“You’ve shown me that,” I admit. “Three stars on your stickerchart.” I try to cool myself down, but things keep springing up that make me want to set the world on fire. “It’s just that one of the first things I ever asked was if your mom was your girlfriend!”

He gives me an incredulous look. “What was I to say? ‘No. My mam’s not my girlfriend, my girlfriend is’?”

“Works for me!” My voice sounds feral. I pull myself back to earth. “You know what? There is really no reason for it to matter that you have a girlfriend. I’d think it would’ve come up by now, but I know some actors like to keep their private lifeextraprivate. And some of them believe there are no real rules when it comes to making a movie.” I’m toeing the line between sarcastic and truthful, trying to hit a sweet spot where nothing affects me. “I’m happy for you.”

“Sloane. Hold on.” He waits for me to still myself. “I don’t have a girlfriend anymore. Haven’t since about a month before we started shooting.” He lets it simmer, absorbing all the confusion that’s written on my face. “Daya knew her a bit. She was a costume assistant on that miniseries I did last year, and she works on Daya’s sitcom. But they’re on hiatus, so Daya hasn’t seen her to know we’ve ended things.”

It hits a nerve, to feel like I’ve been outpaced. Pokes right at the smug little voice in my head that hates to be proven wrong. “Why did you have to put it that way? Why use a hypothetical with the mom comment? Why couldn’t you come out and say that you don’t have a fucking girlfriend?”

One of our PAs walks by us. She tries to cover it, but her mouth quirks in reaction to what I’ve said. This is why we should have gone into his trailer for this conversation.

“Can we please go inside?” Joseph asks, feeling it too.

“No,” I protest.

“Sloane.”

“No.”

“Sloane.”

“Fine.”

We huff off together. He’s all scowls and curved shoulders, and I’m all chest-forward haughtiness, clinging to my pride like a live bug on a windshield.

As soon as Joseph closes his trailer door, he’s on my case again. “Why would it matter if I had a girlfriend?”

“Don’t even go there.”

“What do you mean? Where else is there to go? Tell me why it would matter.” He takes a step toward me.

“It doesn’t,” I say coldly.

“No?” Another step.

“No.”

“Fine then. Maybe I should give her a call. See if she’d like to go out to lunch with me, since I can’t seem to find anyone else who will dine with me on off days.” Two more steps forward.

“Fuck off.”

“It wasn’t a good match, but who knows? Maybe she’d be able to rehearse with me a bit too.”

“Literally drive yourself to hell and move in.”

Another step. “Those early wake-ups are tough, but I think if I explain that—”

I smash my lips atop his.

At first he’s rigid, still talking, in fact. Then he melts into me, and his hands spring to life, palming the back of my head and the small of my back in one swoop, pulling me closer yet. We crash against the trailer door. His mouth breaks free from mine for a gasp of air.

He recovers and kisses me again, deep and strong. I remember the feel of him in a way I don’t expect, like picking up a bookI forgot I’ve read before. There’s a rhythm to the way we move together, a dance of pressure and touch that takes practice to perfect. We’ve had a whole previous movie’s worth, and it’s as natural as breathing, the way I tangle my fist into his hair right as he moves from my lips to the spot on my neck just below my jaw. I find the corner of his ear and nip at it, reminding him to come back to my mouth again.

He does, picking me up to move us from the doorway to the couch. He has a hand tucked up under each of my thighs, keeping a firm pressure that radiates through me. He lays me down so gently I think he’s still holding me, until I realize that my legs are wrapped around him tight enough to keep me from touching the seat cushions. He has moved his arms to either side of my head, propping himself up so he can pull back to look at me.

Really look at me.