“That’s… completely surreal.” She looked back down to her phone where the image folder was now empty. “How do you lie like that?”
I winced at her wording. “Well, if you want to call it a lie, everything we do as actors is a lie. I mean, audiences want us to spin them a story and convince them it’s real.”
“This is different.” She tucked her phone into her pocket. “You lied to me.”
“I’m so sorry.” I put my hand in hers because it just felt right. “I didn’t want to. Can you understand the position I was in? Sometimes you do stuff for work that you don’t want to, but have to.”
“That’s pretty sad.” She looked at me with genuine sympathy. “I can see what you meant when you said this business wrecks your ability to connect with people in a real way.”
She intertwined her fingers with mine and we sat in silence, something unspoken floating in the air between us.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I hate that I betrayed your trust and made you sick over nothing.”
“I’m sorry too,” Amelia said. “Sorry that this is the world you live in.”
She parted the dresses in front of us and exited the safe hiding place without looking back.
I wanted to be relieved that I’d told Amelia the truth, but I couldn’t get past the look in her eyes. It’d been more than betrayal. She’d looked disgusted. I tucked my knees up to my chest and breathed in her lingering perfume. Would she ever forgive me? It didn’t seem fair that she’d fault me so much for something that was just a part of my job.
I sighed. I’d hurt her. That was the only part that mattered. And I had no idea what to do about it now.
***
The next time I saw Amelia was two days later on set. I’d known from the filming schedule what we’d be filming today: the notorious shower scene. The “clothes” I’d be wearing had been left in my dressing room. Tiny beige skintight briefs and strapless bra would be all I’d have on for most of that day. After I’d dressed, the stylist team came in to slather my entire body in makeup and sealant to help keep it from washing off in the shower scene.
I zoned out as the stylists fussed with my hair. I’d been up late thinking about what Amelia had said. She’d been right. My world appeared glamorous on the outside, but what was underneath all the fancy cars and exclusive clubs? Nothing. There was nothing real about my life.
When I saw Amelia on the set, she was clutching her robe tight to her body. I hadn’t even bothered to hide myself with a robe. It would just rub off the make up, and besides, everyone was going to see everything anyway.
I still didn't know how she felt about the day before. My fake relationship with Oliver. My fake life. But when I looked into Amelia’s eyes, I swore I saw excitement. There was something about her face that was so expressive. With a lot of actors, you never knew when the acting stopped, but there was something completely authentic about Amelia.
She inhaled deep breaths as we took our positions on the set, her hands shaking slightly.
“Don’t worry.” I threw her a wink. “We practiced this one, remember?”
Shock and amusement played on her face and she snorted a laugh. Her nerves seemed to subside and she slowly slid her robe from her shoulders, exposing her skin inch by inch. My eyes followed the round curve of her shoulder, down to her protruding collar bone and toned arms. She wasn’t exactly curvy, but her pixie-like frame made her utterly breathtaking. The only thing hiding Amelia’s dignity from the camera crew was a pair of beige briefs and bra identical to mine. I wished we were alone so I could strip them off her.
From behind us, Braelyn shouted, “Action!”
As Amelia began to speak her lines, she never lost that feeling of authenticity. Her emotions felt real. And as I delivered my dialogue, it started to feel real to me, too. There had been times when doing s
cenes with Amelia had been torture, because I’d been trying not to get attached to her. But this moment, right now, felt perfect.
She turned on the shower, sending cascades of hot water rippling down her glowing skin. I ignored everyone around us as I pressed my lips to hers. It was just me and her. None of this sad, fake world.
I kissed down her neck, moaned into her skin, ran my hands through her hair. This moment was what I’d been aching for. She pulled my face back up to her and kissed me ferociously. With all the water between us, our lips slid so easily against one another.
I’d been so lost in Amelia that for a second, I’d forgotten we were doing a scene. I came back to reality with sharp focus, gripping Amelia by the arms and pushing her against the wall.
I breathed into her neck as I pressed into her. I’d filmed dozens of these scenes, but nothing had ever felt like this. It was usually so awkward, but my body moved with Amelia’s in a perfect mimicry of sex. When I leaned into her neck to whisper, “I’m falling in love with you,” into her ear, I felt every hair on her body stand on end. Was this really all just acting?
We did the scene over three times, the pressure building inside of me with each shot. How was I supposed to stay away from her? The day was both exhausting and exhilarating. By the time I put my clothes back on, my mind was reeling.
I had to see Amelia again. I might explode if I didn’t. I had her number in my phone, but it turned out I didn’t need it, because when I stepped out of my dressing room, she was standing there.
She was fully clothed, wearing one of her tidy white dress shirts, hair combed into that slick style that looked distinctly vintage. The girl was something else.
“Hey,” she said casually, as if she hadn’t been standing there waiting for me. Did she think she could play coy with me? I grinned.