“I know!” I said, feeling a rush of validation. “It’s not right to treat someone like that, right?”
“Right!” Alina cried. “If Rachel ever did that to me…”
I raised an eyebrow at her.
She went quiet quickly, realizing she’d said too much. Then she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. All we know is that we don’t like Mason anymore,” she said.
“No we don’t, he’s a scumbag,” I said, watching him from across the set. He was smiling and talking to an extra.
“I hate him,” Alina said dramatically, her green eyes narrowing. “Want me to beat him up?”
I laughed, then said, “No, we don’t want to let him think we care that much.”
“Good point,” she said.
I opened my mouth to tell Alina the part I’d left out; the part about that weird physical connection between me and Mason. That one tiny moment of realness in the sea of inauthenticity.
“I can’t believe he did that to you,” she growled, her fingers tightening around her cup of coffee. “What a fucking asshole.”
I decided not to tell her about the connection. It wasn’t even real, so why tell my best friend about it? Plus, she looked like she was having a fun time hating on him instead of thinking about her Rachel drama.
“When is your scene again?” she asked.
“Dusk,” I said.
“Okay, so we have a day to forget about him,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take revenge on him for you?”
“Yes,” I said, my head swimming. “We can’t let him know that he got to me.”
Alina was quiet for a few seconds, thinking. “You’re right,” she finally said through her teeth. “But just know, it’s going to take all of my self-control to resist slapping him in the face.”
I smiled and put my arm around her shoulder. “I’m so happy that I have a friend like you, Lady Bryn.”
She smiled too. For a moment, I felt a flash of what I’d felt last night. A real moment; a real kind of love. Only this was one of the purest kinds; the kind that lived in the bonds of friendship.
“Oh, I almost forgot to ask,” she said, her eyebrows coming together in concern. “How was Oliver last night?”
“Oh, Oliver!” I said, thinking back on his disaster of a night.
“What happened when you took him back to his room?”
“He tried to drunkenly hook up with me.”
Alina smiled and took a knowing sip of her coffee. “Of course he did. How did it go down?”
I did my best to recount the story for her, finishing with, “he said all this garbage about how he’s wanted me since he first saw me, that I’m beautiful, etcetera etcetera.”
She chuckled. “Guys always say that.”
“I know,” I said, my eyes narrowing at Mason across the beach.
“Do you think he’s going to show up today? He was pretty trashed last night…”
“I certainly hope so,” I admitted. “I need a costume before my scene…”
“I’m sure we’ve got some in your size,” Alina reassured me. “Plus, we have a few more days at this location. I’m sure we can move some scenes around.”
For a moment I felt a flash of uncertainty, thinking that I was going to mess everything up. Because of Oliver, I was going to waste this opportunity.
Without a fitted costume, I couldn’t shoot the scene.
The scene with Mason.
I took one last glance across the beach, watching him flirt with an extra. An unpleasant feeling curdled in my gut. It was like that was bringing all of my inadequacies to the forefront of my mind and putting them all on display for me to see.
I wasn’t pretty enough, or skinny enough, or charming enough, or talented enough for someone like that to want me.
Just like all of my Grinder hookups made me feel, I felt used. Disposable. Just another body.
I looked down at the sand in shame.
Then Reese’s voice appeared out of nowhere.
“Charlie!”
I turned to see him hurrying toward me in the sand. He looked disheveled; he didn’t shave this morning. Even though he was still wearing another one of his suits with a red tie flapping in the wind, there was something about him that was off.
He wasn’t in control for once.
“Yeah?” I asked, trying to match the image of him in my head with this man in front of me.
“I need you and Mason to shoot your scene now,” he said, blinking too many times.
“But— but I don’t have a costume—”
“Yes you do,” Oliver said, appearing at my side. “It’s right here.”
Chapter Sixteen
Oliver held up a hangar that was supporting a simple costume with complex beading.
From reading the new version of the script, I knew that I had to play some villager that Mason’s character was hooking up with. In the show, it would be the second time his character, the bastard Chronis, would appear on-screen.
I was surprised to see that Oliver looked completely normal. By how trashed he was last night when I put him to bed, I thought he would be barely functional today.
But he looked way more put-together than Reese.
He either had some kind of miracle cure for hangovers or… he was faking being drunk last night.
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Hurry up and get changed,” Reese said sharply, his words slicing through me. “Go on, go on!”
Oliver and I hurried to my trailer, the costume flapping in the wind.
“Put this on, and be quick about it,” he snapped.
I was still in a daze, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Why were they all of a sudden up in my business? It seemed like everyone was irritated at me.
Was it possible that Mason was spreading rumors about me? Did he tell anyone what had happened?
…was I getting a reputation?
I took the costume from Oliver and opened the door of my trailer, trying to catch his eye.
He seemed to be purposefully avoiding mine, then said, “You only have a few minutes. Meet me back at the set, we’ll get you in a chair to try and make sure everything fits.”
I pressed my lips together, letting the insult land but pretending it didn’t bother me.
“Thanks,” I said hollowly, then rushed inside my trailer.
Everything inside had been cleaned up by someone. My bed was made, my clothes were all put away, and the condom wrapper was gone.
A lump formed in my throat. I’d been out of here for what, an hour? And now everyone was acting weird around me…
As I pulled the costume on, I couldn’t help but wonder if Mason had leaked something; spread some rumor about me that was designed to get me off the set.
Was it… was it frowned upon to hook up with costars? I was under the impression that it happened all the time.
For some reason as I finished buttoning and zipping up the costume, tears started leaking out of my eyes. I knew I only had a few minutes, but I had to take some time to myself to sit down in my chair at my vanity and feel all of these things. I had to figure out where they were coming from…
I must have been a sight — some dude dressed in medieval villager clothing, hunched over at a vanity desk, crying his eyes out.
After some thinking, I felt a creeping sensation of Deja Vu.
This was how I felt in high school. This was how I felt after I’d come home from school after being bullied all day. I felt like I wasn’t enough — I’d get picked on for my clothing choices, the size of my body, my effeminate nature…
Taking a few deep breaths, I steadied myself.
Were the bullies who I needed to forgive? Up until now, I didn’t think that their words affected me that much. It had been over ten years since I’d been in high school, and I thought I left that broken version of me behind…
Taking a shaking breath, I tried to picture the bullies I’d faced. It was impossible; their face
s had faded from my memory. And it wasn’t as if there was any one specific bully that had tormented me — the razor-sharp comments that sliced through my self-esteem had various sources. At times, I’d even thought it was my entire high school class that hated me.
But at the end of the day, the person that hated me the most was myself.
And here I was again, hating myself for not measuring up to anyone’s expectations — Reese, Mason, Oliver, Leo… I would never be able to compete with them.
Taking a few deep breaths, I calmed myself and wiped my eyes.
I could do this. I would pull it together. Like my mother told me when I got into my moods after school, I needed to put my brave face on and go face the world.
Because, as they say, the show must go on.
Using a trick I’d learned from one of my favorite Youtubers, I chilled a spoon in the freezer for two minutes, then pressed it on my eyelids. This would take the swelling down.
By the time I was done, it was nearly impossible to notice that I’d cried at all.
There was a knock on my trailer door.
Oliver’s voice drifted in from outside, “Sure are taking your time, Farm Boy,” he taunted. “The world doesn’t stop moving for you…”
I flung the door open to see him standing there. His face contorted into a snarl.
“I’m ready,” I said, steeling myself. And for a moment, it was like a more powerful version of myself was coming to the surface; some strong incarnation of me that was built on the foundation of pure lies.
Maybe I was better at acting than I thought.
Oliver scowled even deeper and said, “come with me then. We’re running out of time.”
I followed him out of the trailer and traced his tracks through the sand. We walked in silence up the stairs to the castle.
“What’s gotten into you today?” I asked, annoyed that his mood was clouding up my space.
“Reese is all up in my business,” he said.
I was taken aback. Up until this moment, I was certain that Oliver had a problem with me.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He’s just weird today.”
“Maybe he’s hungover?”
“No, he only had one drink last night. I was watching.”
“What do you mean you were watching? I was watching you. You were completely trashed!”
He was silent for a beat, then said, “I hold my liquor well.”
For a moment, I was going to bring up the scene between us in his hotel room. The one where he tried to undo my pants button.
I could see the tips of his ears turning red, and I decided to drop it. Instead, I changed the subject to what he obviously wanted to talk about.
“What’s up with Reese today, you think?” I asked, climbing step after step.
“I don’t know, sometimes he gets like this.”
“Gets like what?” I asked.
I could practically hear Oliver roll his eyes. “Never mind.”
“I thought you were trying to hook up with him,” I said.
“Yeah, I was,” he grumbled. “Until you ruined it. Now he won’t have anything to do with me.”
“Wait you can’t blame that on me,” I reasoned.
He stopped and turned around, his green eyes blazing with fury.
“I can blame it on you if I want. It’s your fault!”
I wouldn’t back down to him; I stood my ground. “No, Oliver. It’s not my fault.”
I didn’t know what was giving me strength: The costume I was wearing, the fact that I’d already cried my eyes out earlier, or just being fed up with Oliver in general.
His jaw tightened as he stared at me. He couldn’t think of anything to say to that.
After a beat where we locked eyes, I said, “Aren’t we running late? Wouldn’t want Reese to get more upset at you,” I said, watching his face as my insult landed.
He scrunched up his face and gritted his teeth, then turned on his heel. We walked up the rest of the staircase in silence.
Once we got into the castle, Oliver led me to the dressing room.
“Who’s doing my makeup?” I asked, the coldness running like a base note through my voice.
“We’re having Leo’s makeup artist do it,” he answered clinically.
I sat down in the chair in front of the vanity, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. It was only a few minutes before I would have to reenact what me and Mason did last night. Only this time, the camera would be on me.
Since I moved to L.A. to try out acting, I was used to being in front of the camera. I was just afraid that I wouldn’t measure up to Mason’s presence in the room. Would he try to sabotage me? Would he try to make me feel small, like when he left my trailer last night?
I exhaled slowly as Oliver flitted around me, checking the sizing and buttons.
“Well lucky you,” he whispered. “It all fits perfectly. I’m a genius.”
“You didn’t even make this one,” I reminded him, eyeing him in the mirror.
He gave me a warning look, put his hands up, and touched my shoulders gently. Then he whispered in my ear, “I know about last night.”
I froze, then relaxed, waiting for him to continue. There was no way he could know about Mason and me unless Mason told him.
Maybe he was referring to me taking him to his room or something?
But all he did was smirk knowingly, squeeze my shoulder, and leave the room.
He was replaced by someone I didn’t recognize — Leo’s makeup artist, who frantically began work on my face.
We made small talk, but I could only half pay attention. I was too busy silently freaking out about all of the unknowns around me: Having to shoot a sex scene with Mason in a few minutes — which was bizarre in and of itself — and both Reese and Oliver acting weird.
Some things were brewing under the surface, and I had to fight the instinct to get out of it now; quit this entire thing. I wanted nothing more than to run away.
This was too much drama to handle; it was only day two of me being on the set. And I’d already ruined everything by hooking up with Mason and getting Oliver to hate me, and having this weird vibe with Leo.
The only true ally I had was Alina, and even she was about to go through her own drama when Rachel got here.
If she was paying all of her attention and support to Rachel, what did that leave me?
It left me alone.
The only way out of all of this was to quit.
“And you’re done!” the makeup artist chimed, as if everything was right in the world.
I looked at my face in the mirror, as if seeing myself for the first time. He’d made my face dirty like a medieval villager’s but in an artful way. The makeup blended in, bringing out my sharp features while still giving me a natural look.
Even with all of my inner turmoil, I had to admit that I looked good— better than my best day.
The makeup was like armor. I could do anything.
“Knock ‘em dead,” the makeup artist said.
And just like that, Reese appeared in the doorway.
“We’re ready for you, Charlie,” he said, somehow looking even more disheveled than earlier.
I stilled my shaking hands and stood up.
“Remember, you aren’t Charlie anymore,” Reese said. “You’re a villager. What do you want, Village Boy?” Reese asked, cutting me with his sharp gaze.
The way he was bossing me around like this, taking command of the room, caused some stirring in my pants. Automatically, I tried to make myself think of something else to make the boner go away, but then I remembered that this scene we were about to shoot was going to give me a boner anyway.
Hell, it would probably even make the scene more real.
“You read the script, right?” Reese asked impatiently.
“Yeah, I’m up to date on the changes,” I said, joining him in the doorway.
“Then what do you want, village boy?” he asked agai
n, leading me down a long hallway lined with burning torches.
What did I want? I wanted fame. I wanted people to respect me. I wanted validation; I wanted to be admired and loved.
But what did the village boy want?
“I want Chronis,” I said.
“Why’s that?” Reese tested, his steps getting faster and faster.
“Because I suspect he’s a bastard of the king, and I want to use that to my advantage,” I said, sliding deeper and deeper into character.
“Right. And what’s your line?” Reese said.
“You look just like him,” I said, reciting the line from the Google Doc that had burned its way into my eyelids.
“Perfect. Say it just like that when the time comes,” Reese said.
Then he opened a curved wooden castle door in front of us and we stepped into an extravagant bedroom.
Mason was already there in costume, looking like a god as he stared out the window. We hadn’t even started yet and he already had command of the scene; it was impossible not to look at him.
Reese gave another speech, talking about the circumstances in the book that would lead up to this scene. But something was missing from it; that creative spark that captivated an audience was gone. Something was on his mind.
Regardless, whatever Reese lacked at that moment, Mason made up for. He was already on.
He avoided my eye until the cameras started rolling. I didn’t know what he was playing at; all I knew was that it was getting to me.
“Action!” Reese cried, and it felt like all of the air went out of my lungs.
I had practiced this over and over when I had a few hours alone yesterday, but it didn’t prepare me for the unique thrill that came from being in front of the camera. There was something ethereal in the room that shifted, and suddenly I wasn’t Charlie anymore. I was a random villager, suddenly alone in a room with Chronis.
Chronis, the guy I’d coveted and been watching for weeks.
Chronis, my ticket out of poverty.
He didn’t know he was the king’s bastard yet, but I did.
Chronis turned from the window, and rushed at me, sweeping me into an embrace.
I forgot the cameras were there, forgot who I was pretending to be. I even forgot I was acting. The chemistry between me and Mason was so powerful that I could let that carry the scene.
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