Page 59 of Love Scenes

It does not seem like any of this is a joke.

Mom scoffs at Tyler. “Well, I’d love to see Sloaney up there making use of all those voice lessons for once.”

“What songs should we do?” Joseph asks me.

At once the dinner table is pitching options for us. The conversation moves like a tornado, with me in the eye of it all. My family hammers out every detail big and small. Joseph on guitar. His dad on drums. Sarai on tambourine. Me on vocals.

Who will be our bassist?the group wonders.

Joseph thinks a three-song set is doable given our time frame. It will have to be songs his dad knows. Which means classic rock. But not the Beatles. We can’t do what Daniel’s done. We have to set ourselves apart.

I protest nothing, instead watching. Marveling. Astonished at the fact that all of these people have come together to help me—to save me—and they’re doing it without hesitation. Without knowing how screwed I’d be if they didn’t pick me up in this very moment and save me. Or maybe knowing exactly how screwed I’d be, and doing it for that reason.

But still, this is patently ridiculous. We cannot possibly be doing a fucking musical performance together.

Can we?

By night’s end, we’ve picked two songs for sure. Joseph is confident he can play “Listen to the Music” and “Night Moves.” He’s pledged to spend his off days practicing guitar. We’re on location most of next week and he’s only needed for one day. Plenty of time to rehearse, as long as he comes over one day to do vocals with me.

I agree, praying my cheeks aren’t bright red.

By the time I leave set, I’m wondering how Joseph and I spenthours without touching today and yet he feels the closest to me he’s ever been, like he’s inches above my skin at all moments, his breath hot on my neck and his words dancing into my brain, a pleasant melody I could play on a continuous loop for days without once growing tired of the sound.

15

Week Five of Production

Sloane? I’m Lucas.”

My costar for the day has jogged from the tents over to me. He’s a generically handsome white guy in his midthirties who I’ve seen in more than one period piece playing this exact role: the guy the girl doesn’t choose. He’s got the face for it. Sweet but maybe cloyingly so. The type of man you’d discover has a weak handshake and an inability to read the room.

The sight of him makes me long for Joseph. For his prosthetic scar and his crooked smile. The way his grip tightens around my waist, so sturdy I know I could dip backward and he wouldn’t falter. He’d let my back arch in his hands until my head almost touched the ground. He’s not here today, which is a small relief. Seeing him has become like looking directly at the sun.

“Hey. Nice to meet you.” I extend my hand to Lucas for ashake, surprised to learn his grip isn’t weak at all. It’s friendly and steady, with a lot of direct eye contact.

“How’s it been going so far?” he asks.

“It’s been an adventure. We’ve settled into a groove now, thankfully.”

“I’m excited to be here. IloveGuy Cicero.”

Of course he does. Of course the draw isn’t Tyler, or my mom. It’s Guy.

I love him too though, so I play along. “It’s been a lot of fun to work with him and my sister.”

“Totally,” Lucas adds.

“It’s been really fun,” I say again, catching my echo too late. Great. I’m the one who can’t keep a conversation alive. “Well, I should go to the makeup trailer. See ya in a bit.”

He looks at his phone to check the time. “Oh. I should too.”

Naturally there’s only one trailer, and we’re the only two here aside from extras, so we walk there together. Get ready together. Force ourselves through all the standard talking points together.

Lucas tells me about his last project. His food allergies. His growing interest in woodworking. I tell him about my gala. He says he’ll look into getting a ticket or donating. He won’t, but it’s okay.

Talking to him makes me remember all the ways it’s different with Joseph. How when I leave work, I replay all of our conversations, combing through each interaction. What does he mean when he says he forgets to be late? Why is it that his compliments feel more genuine than other people’s compliments? How is his collarbone so much sexier than other people’s collarbones?

I can say with confidence that I won’t spend a single minute of my free time revisiting this exchange with Lucas.