Page 26 of Seeking Stars
He cleared his throat and glanced at the camera, filming them from the edge of the table. "Yeah, it's another difficult thing about fame. You have to work really hard on appearances; even if someone is rude to you, you can't answer at the same level. Still, you have no control over what people think about you."
"No one does, though, right? No one gets to decide what other people believe about you."
"That's true." He rested his head on one of his hands, palm open holding his temple. "But most people have to contend with a few circles of people: their family, their coworkers, the random person they bumped into at the grocery store. Being famous puts you in everyone's circle. A million people have an opinion about you. It takes a lot of resilience and self-assurance to cope with that, especially when they're forming opinions based on a lie someone made up of you. Or maybe it's just me. I have to keep myself in check to deal with all of that."
She nodded in understanding, leaving the crumbs aside. "It really sounds shitty, what you described."
He chuckled at her choice of words. "Yeah, it is. But I love my job— I don't want to discount all the good, either."
"Tell me about the good. Let's end this on a good note."
"I'm not sure that it says a lot of good about me… but I like to be recognized for what I can do with my acting. Feeling I can tell a story and do it right, with my body, with my voice. We as people— humanity— we're storytellers. Ever since we sat around a fire, we were telling stories. Maybe you can understand what I mean by that."
They smiled at each other, a glimmer of understanding and connection between them. They were both storytellers.
"I remember when you started to show up in movies." She pulled an elastic tie from her wrist and, raking her fingers through her long hair, she put it up into a high ponytail. There was comfort and grace in her movements, and watching her do it calmed his brain. "I only have a very basic, superficial knowledge of actors and actresses, but I remember people talking about how you had done a nice range of movies, showing how you could do different types of films and do well in all of them."
"Yes, and that feels good. So many people dream of being in the position I'm in; they spend years trying their best and they don't make it. So much of it is luck; I don't think I'm the only one who can do what I do. Yet, here I am, and I like that people see that I can actually act."
"That you're more than a pretty face?" she teased him.
Her comment pulled a half-grin from him. "You could say that." After a while, he continued. "It's also that being well-known gives me freedom. I don't mean financial freedom, though that of course is really nice, not gonna pretend it isn't. What I mean by freedom, though, is that I get to act and, if I keep going like this, I'll get to choose scripts I really love soon. I'll get access to projects I really want to do, exploring ideas and characters I can be passionate about. I like acting, I really do. So if I can work on things I'm in love with, well… I'd be living an incredible life."
Chapter 8 - Sea legs
Liam leaned back against his chair. He and Ana sat in comfortable silence, having finished their food. He lifted his face to the sun and soaked its warmth, eyes closed.
"This is the life." He sighed. "What do you say I take care of all of this, then we get in the water?"
He opened his eyes and squinted at her when she didn't respond. She mirrored him in her chair, leaning back with arms crossed on her midriff. Her ponytail fell straight behind her back.
"Oh." Her only movement was her biting her lip. He did his best to suppress the pull that hooked in his gut at seeing her do that. She chuckled, but it sounded self-deprecating. "Truth is, I don't think that I want to. It makes me nervous."
He welcomed the distraction, his interest piqued at her confession. He stretched back in the chair, locking his hands behind his head. "How come?"
"I haven't been in the ocean enough, and never on a beach with waves like this."
Liam checked the tide. Waves were crashing, but they didn't seem particularly strong or high. He turned to her and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table to support his torso.
"I'm already not a hundred percent comfortable in the water. There," she added as she pointed at the sea with her chin, "I'm afraid a wave will throw me down and tumble me around like a washing machine, to finally spit me out or swallow me in."
He laughed, the sound reverberating on the cliffs around them. A couple of birds took flight. "That's quite the image."
"I'm sure it's funny to you. You probably have the best sea legs around. No, you do have the best sea legs around, fact. Because I have none."
"Only thing is, sea legs are what you need when on a boat, not for swimming." His grin was so big he could feel it stretching his face.
"Proves my point." She shrugged. "I don't know enough."
"Okay, then," he said, standing and collecting the dishes. "I'll clean up, you'll put on your swimsuit, and we'll get in the water. I'll help you."
She froze up. "No, you're not."
He left the plates and cups in a makeshift tower on the table. He rested his weight on it on his hands, fingers splayed wide.
"You're right, I shouldn't have just said it, I should have asked. Ana, will you join me in the water? I can help you find your swimming sea legs."
"No, thank you." She grabbed the used napkins and some of the cutlery. "You go ahead, go swim, I'll clean up—"
