Page 77 of Love Scenes

Joe straightens his expression. “Do anything fun last night after the event?” he asks me.

“Hung out in my hotel room,” I tell him, still thrusting. “How about you?”

“Yeah. I stayed inside.”

“Sounds relaxing.”

“It was rather glorious.” He cuts me one quick look, then puts the shield back up, ever the gentleman, paying no gaze to my bare chest, a sight he was sure to relish more than a few times last night.

“All right, that’s good,” Tyler tells us.

The intimacy coordinator hands me my robe. I climb off of Joe, who can’t help but let out one more laugh.

“Shut up.” I smack him lightly on the arm.

“Thanks for being good sports,” Tyler tells us. “Everything is looking amazing so far. You’re really selling it.”

“Thanks,” I say while Joe overlaps with “Why thank you.”

Back to work we go, fake sexing our way through the day.

20

A few different news outlets will arrive on set throughout the next two days of filming, coming to capture behind-the-scenes footage. After our disastrous start, the plan was to do all the on-set press stuff during the last week of the shoot. Everything would be settled by then, we all thought. It would be a weeklong celebration of our hard work.

We were right. But this movie is almost over when I swear we started only a few days ago, and I’m sad to think we will spend some of our last moments already talking about it in retrospect instead of fully living it.

Even my morning ritual is stunted by some of the documentary-type camera people here. They’re filming several featurettes, one of which will be on my transformation from Sloane to Elise. Mom made it very clear I’m to arrive at my actual call time today instead of getting here early to meet with Joe.

A cameraman and a producer greet me, ready to follow me around the lot.

“That’s Joe’s trailer,” I say when we pass, fulfilling their request that I narrate my experience. It’s a bit like letting strangers read your diary as you write it. “Usually I’d go there for an earlymorning rehearsal before he’s off to have his prosthetics applied.” I point to the trailer next to it. “And that’s mine,” I say, no other elaboration to give.

They set up a time-lapse video for my hair and makeup. We do standard coverage too, and I talk them through Elise’s aesthetic. Her penchant for blues and greens. How that plays into what our set designers have done with the apartments, and the fact that Elise tends to match Calvin’s home better than her own. How all of it looks so lush thanks to Tyler’s idea to make the lighting and colors as uniquely vibrant as possible in spite of the bleak circumstances of their lives. How Guy has taught her to embrace that stylishness while searching for the quiet, impulsive beats, the small visual truths that make a movie sing. I go through some of the specific lip colors we’ve used for Elise. Niche stuff that appeals to makeup junkies and film buffs who appreciate a peek into this side of the process.

It makes me laugh when I hold up the one that once covered Joe’s face. “This one is a beautiful color, but it’s definitely not longwear.”

Today’s shot list is all over the board. Production wanted the outside crews to have something fun to cover. We’ve held on to a dance scene between Elise and Calvin for this occasion.

It’s past the midway point, after the breakthrough writing moment between them. Elise has come to Calvin’s apartment to shoot the shit. They’re sharing drinks while Elise finally fills Calvin in on the granular details he missed while he was away at war. Something about telling him these mundane stories feels the most intimate of all. She admits she was taking dance lessons for a while. Calvin, a little tipsy, asks her to show him. He has no record player, so he offers to hum his way through a tune at any speed she’d like. Elise explains she isn’t very good. Calvin ispersistent. Eventually, Elise gives in to trying. She attempts to teach him what she knows as he makes up a song that fits their clumsy, blooming rhythm.

I would’ve loved to run this with Joe this morning. There’s a lot of quick-flitting dialogue and a good amount of blocking to cover. Without one last practice, it really will be like improvising. Guy was firm on not wanting this to be too planned, anyways. Tyler agreed.

On set, we dance. Making up our moves as we go, guided by a choreographer hired to keep the movements period appropriate. Joe spins me. Dips me. Holds me. Hums a song suspiciously close to the one his dad made up about his siblings. We sprinkle our dialogue throughout, swift as our feet, covered in one long take that dances with us.

Tyler calls out encouragement in the soft moments. “Keep going, Calvin,” she says when he starts to swirl me. “Make her dizzy.”

The world around me spins. There are a hundred eyes on us, following our every step. With us through our laughter and our missteps. Through our shuffles and swirls.

We have them.

“And cut.”

I tip into Joe’s arms, too dizzy to stand straight.

It takes a long time to set up the shot again. An entertainment news correspondent pulls Joe and me off to the side for a casual interview while we wait. Half of Calvin’s apartment is in frame behind us. The other half shows the wooden slats holding up the back of the walls and the soundstage floor.

The correspondent’s team pins lapel mics on us, and we’re off to bantering.