by Anita Knight
Lights, Camera, Attraction
A Tempt University Steamy Short Romance
Anita Knight
Lunchtime Rendezvous Publishing
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Anita Knight
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
Published by
Lunchtime Rendezvous Publishing
www.anitaknight.com
Contents
1. Sasha
2. Luca
3. Sasha
4. Luca
5. Sasha
Fun Stuff
Also by Anita Knight
About the Author
A Note from Anita
Lights, Camera, Attraction
“Sasha is the most talented cinematography student I know, she’s unbelievably beautiful, and she’s the only woman I want. The only problem is, she’s my best friend.
We met four years ago as freshmen in Tempt University’s legendary Film Production program, and I’ve been too afraid to ruin our friendship by telling her how insanely attracted to her I am.
But one night during a particularly hot lighting test on my senior thesis movie set, sparks fly between us.
With graduation right around the corner, this may be my only chance to make a move.
It’s time to man up and make Sasha mine.”
Dear reader,
Lights, Camera, Attraction is a best-friends-to-lovers steamy short college romance.
Luca is the burly, bearded jock of the film world—a cinematographer who sees beauty to be captured everywhere, especially in Sasha.
And with a vivid imagination and talent for days, Sasha knows exactly how to help him set a scene. But in her opinion, Luca belongs in front of the camera, not behind it.
This story takes place at Tempt University, where academic tensions run high, and everyone is overdue for a sizzling, lust-fueled fling to get back on track (even the professors).
Welcome to Tempt University!
Yours truly,
Anita
Chapter One
Sasha
I fan myself with our shot list as Luca adjusts the key light illuminating our makeshift movie set. It’s unbelievably hot in this small apartment, the location for Luca’s thesis film, and it probably doesn’t help that the room we’re setting up in doesn’t even have air conditioning. Damn California historical districts. Regardless, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else tonight.
Looking around at the beautiful little movie set we’ve put together, you totally wouldn’t have guessed it was created within the last two hours by just the two of us. Luca’s apartment, which he shares with a few other guys, would typically feel dingy and disgusting, a la “classic frat-guy style.” But not tonight. Not in the small corner of the room that’s going to be on camera. As I sit on the old leather couch and admire the beautifully lit, albeit scorching hot area around me, I can’t help but feel like I’m sitting in a tiny corner of heaven. I’m inside a painting of light created by Luca, the twenty-three-year-old cinematography master.
I smile up at him, proud of what we’ve managed to create together, and catch a glimpse of Luca’s shirt creeping up his perfectly chiseled abs as he reaches above him. Damn, that man is built thick. He was always a strong guy, but ever since he added working out to his daily regimen of lifting and moving heavy film equipment all day long, Luca’s got muscles on muscles. He’s basically a mountain man, except his beard is a work in progress. I smirk to myself. He’s always trying to get that bushy brown beard of his to grow just a bit more. Even though it’s barely two inches long, he’s as proud as a parent on their kid’s first day of school. As if on cue, Luca strokes his beard in thought. I giggle. Such a nerd.
He catches me staring, his deep brown eyes as warm as fudge. His beautiful smile sends a heatwave scorching through my insides that makes the room spin. Woah. Maybe it isn’t just the lights heating things up here... I glance away, trying not to burst into flames, here, and remind myself that this is just a routine scene prep. Sure, it’s only the two of us, but it’s not like Luca and I haven’t prepped a scene together before.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
The truth is, we’ve prepped many film shoots together before, but this is the first time in the last four years in Tempt University’s infamous Film Program that all other key crew members were already booked on different sets. Meaning they were too busy to help us out tonight.
Meaning, it’s just him and me.
Luca moves his apple box, a small wooden block, a few feet to the left, and fixes the pink gel clipped to the backlight. He glances down at me every few seconds, and I know he’s just checking how the lighting looks bouncing off the blonde wig on my head, but I can’t help but feel butterflies zing around in my stomach every time I feel his eyes on me.
Oh, yeah, you read that right. I’m temporarily a blonde this evening. You see, I’m filling in for his main actress, and she’s blonde, apparently. To get the most accurate lighting test, we must re-create the scene close to what it will be on shooting day. Which means I need to cover my long black waves with short, curly blonde locks. I know it seems a little much, but Luca and I go all out. And the funny part is, I haven’t even read the script. But it doesn’t matter. I’d do anything for Luca, even wear a terribly itchy wig for hours on end.
We’ve been friends since freshman year when we met as grips (a film term for “stagehand”) on someone else’s thesis film. We’ve grown and learned together, always working as a team on set, always paying close attention during class, always having each other’s backs—this semester, especially. There are more cinematography students in our year than any other key crew majors in the Tempt University Film Program. (I guess all the other film majors are finally admitting that cine is the best job on set.) I’ve worked on three other students’ thesis films this semester, not including my own. It’s exhausting, but it’s excellent work to put on our resumes, that’s for sure. However, I would drop all those other projects in a heartbeat to help Luca, and I know he’d do the same for me.
A smile spreads on my face as he tilts the light to the side ever so slightly. We’re so similar—always paying close attention to detail, putting in extra work, and making sure we’re doing the best we can. For him, it’s the art of lighting that always gets his creative juices flowing. For me, it’s the angles. I love exploring the minds of the characters through different shots. You’d be amazed at the effect a closeup can have when you use it effectively, and the same goes for Dutch angles and wide angles and static shots and… you get the idea. I love bringing a script to life through cinematography, almost as much as I love being on set with Luca. Or just being with Luca in general.
I watch as he reaches above his head to adjust the gel on his key light, casting the room in a pinkish, orangey glow. It’s romantic and beautiful, and it almost feels like he’s unknowingly mocking the way he makes me feel. Luca’s every move has his thick biceps bulging and his thin white T-shirt revealing more and more of his perfect abs. As he leans to the side, I get a beautiful glimpse of a perfectly chiseled V leading straight to his groin, a place I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve thought about on more than one occasion. Even just now, I find myself imagining the exact details of where that V leads to…
“Sasha?” Luca’s familiar deep voice cuts through the dreamy reverie pulling me away
from the moment.
“Huh?” I clear my throat. “Did you say something?”
Luca gestures to his tool kit by the foot of the backlight. “Hand me the C-Forty-Seven in my bag, please.”
“C-Forty-Seven. Got it.” I nod and dig in his bag. A C-Forty-Seven is just a fancy name for a clothespin. I love the little nicknames on set. Apple Box for a wooden step stool, C-Forty-Seven for clothespins, and “Eighty-Six that” for “get rid of it.” They’re like industry-wide inside jokes that make me feel as if I were to step onto a Steven Spielberg set tomorrow, I’d fit right in.
I find two non-broken clips and hand one to Luca, simultaneously clipping the other to his belt loop. Another on-set joke—clipping as many C-Forty-Sevens to your friend’s outfit as you can without them noticing. One time, my girlfriends and I clipped twelve C-Forty-Sevens to Luca’s walkie. He didn’t notice until the end of the day. I love that about him. He’s so focused, so intent with his creativity, and so freaking beautiful when he’s in the zone, that he barely notices anything else.
“Thanks,” Luca says. I bite my lip, heat rising in my core as he flashes me a sexy-as-hell half-grin. It must be the warmth from the lights flooding the room because I swear I’ve never let myself think about him this much in this way, and never when there’s work to be done. Which is, conveniently, all the time because Luca and I are always on set together. It’s just, we’re never alone on set together. For the first time ever, I can really watch him as he works without revealing my thoughts to every other person on set. And I have to say, I’m enjoying myself very much.
Luca turns my way to check the lighting and catches me staring. He gives me a sincere smile, his dark brown beard moving with the twist of his lips, and it melts me. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with his forearm, revealing the underside of his luscious arm muscles. My eyes lazily roam his body. He should be in front of the camera, not behind it. Heat spreads from my core as images of us tangled up in each other on this very couch fill my head. I suck in a sharp breath, shocked at my own devilish imagination. Damn it, Sasha, focus on the task at hand.
“You almost ready to do a screen test?” I choke out.
Luca pulls a side light an inch to the left. “Yeah, just a sec.”
I bit back a sassy response. Usually, spending all evening on someone else’s set when I could be grabbing a burger or watching a movie would piss me off. But first of all, this is Luca’s set, which, by extension, makes it my set. And secondly, I’ve never had this much time alone with him since we met four years ago. I’m enjoying every sweltering moment under these lights with him, even if it means wearing a stupid wig and sweating like a damn pig. He can take his sweet time on those lights, just like I’d want him to take his sweet time with me.
Oh boy, here come the sexy thoughts again. A shiver breaks out from my neck to my toes, despite the sweltering temperature.
Luca hops down from his apple box and darts over to the camera, a beautiful Red Dragon model. He taps some buttons and makes a few minute adjustments, then lets out a low sexy groan. God, I love that sound. It means the shot is even better than he imagined.
“Lookin good?” I ask.
“You sure are.” He gives me a playful wink, and I roll my eyes. Thank goodness I’m sitting down already because that wink made my knees weak. What is going on with me? I’ve never let these feelings affect my ability to work in Luca’s presence. It’s probably best to just get through the scene and be done with it before I do something like try to kiss his alluring lips.
Oh god, did I really just think that?
“Haha, very funny,” I say, itching the wig suffocating my scalp. It’s probably not entirely necessary, but like I said. Luca and I, we take this seriously. The actress has short blonde hair, and I’ve got thick, dark waves that extend to just past my boobs. Two totally different looks on camera when it comes to lighting. Typically, on a professional set, we’d have the actress or her double stand in, but this is film school, and you do what you gotta do.
Luca laughs, adjusts a few more things, and nods his head. “Yeah, this is great. I love it.”
“Awesome. Let’s go through it,” I say, preparing myself to take on the role of the main actress in his film. Even if I don’t have to say any lines, I want to do my best for Luca. I want to make sure he gets an adequate lighting test, which means mimicking whatever actions will be played out on the big screen when production starts tomorrow. “What happens in this scene again?”
Luca runs his hand through his thick brown hair, something I’ve been longing to do since I met him. I grab my almost empty water bottle from the table and take a swig. It’s not cool anymore and does nothing to simmer down the sizzling hormones building within me, but at least it’s keeping my hands from touching his beautiful body. Jesus, I must be PMSing. I’ve never wanting to caress his bulging muscles this badly before. At least, not outside of my dreams.
“Uh, right,” he says, somewhat stiffly. Luca’s a burly kind of guy, but he’s usually pretty loosey-goosey on set. It’s his happy place, and mine too, so seeing him uptight feels pretty odd. I watch closely, noticing that he’s breathing a bit quicker now. He bites the inside of his cheek and taps the record button on the camera.
“Everything alright?” I ask.
He awkwardly steps up to the couch, moving as if he’s uncomfortable in his own skin. Luca stands beside me, his crotch eye-level with my face. I struggle to keep my eyes on his as he gulps and says, “It’s a sex scene.”
Chapter Two
Luca
“Did I say sex scene? I meant make out. They just make out,” I stammer. God, I’m a fumbling idiot. Sasha narrows her sapphire eyes at me, probably trying to figure out why I’m acting so fucking weird. She’s gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous in her on-set work clothes—a pair of yoga pants that accentuate every muscled curve of her long legs and a tight-as-hell shirt that suctions perfectly to her perky, round breasts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered what it’d be like to feel those beauties in my hands, to watch her come undone in my arms as I bring her to the edge of a shattering orgasm.
Shit, of course I couldn’t hold myself back—I wish this were a sex scene. If it were, I could finally play out all the impulses I’ve never acted on with Sasha. Every time she puts her hair up in her ponytail, every time she bends down to pick something up, revealing the corner of a Wonder Woman tattoo on her hip, every time Sasha fails to stifle a giggle when she clips a C-Forty-Seven to my walkie. She has no idea how fucking adorable and sexy and goddamn talented she is. She’s the whole package, she’s my best friend, and she’s my partner. No matter how many times I’ve wanted to make a move, to tell her how I feel, there’s always that one part of me, the damned stubborn bastard, that tells me I shouldn’t screw that up.
“So, just a kiss?” she asks like this is business as usual. Like it wouldn’t be a fucking dream come true.
I let out a choking sound. “Yeah, just a kiss,” I say. Unfortunately.
Sasha beckons for me to join her on the couch. “Okay, so sit down.”
My heart pounds in my chest like some middle schooler about to go on a date for the first time. Jesus, what is wrong with me? I’ve been friends with Sasha for years. She knows me better than anyone, yet I can’t stop my dick from getting hard at the brief accidental mention of sex with her? I gulp down my hesitation as I take a seat near her. Sasha eyes me with those beautiful irises, intoxicating me with the smell of her sweet sweat and her rose-scented deodorant. She unclips her green fanny pack, the one with all the pockets she loves to use in place of wearing a purse. I smile to myself as Sasha places it on the table by the couch. She’s so freaking cute. And when she leans toward me, her beauty has me breathless.
Wait, why is she leaning toward me? “What are you doing?” I ask, not moving a muscle. She’s inches from me now, and I feel like a fisherman caught in a siren’s song.
“We’ve gotta go through all the motions to make sure the lighting
catches on this stupid wig.” Her voice is low, conspiratorial. It’s so damn attractive.
I hesitate, not sure how to proceed without jumping on her in a rage of lust-fueled desire that would undoubtedly ruin our friendship. She makes her disappointed face, her lower lip slightly pouty, her eyes glassy. It always turns me on. I lean forward slightly, stopping halfway. She rolls her eyes at me.
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to actually kiss me to make the damn test work. Just pretend, move your head like this.” Sasha smirks as she tilts her head, inches from mine, blocking my face from the camera with hers. I’m so fucking close to finally tasting her lips, but I can’t do that to us. It wouldn’t be fair to our friendship. Right?
She moves closer to me on the couch and tilts her head in the other direction, her lips brushing mine for the briefest of moments, sending electricity straight to my heart, and the other place.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s senior year. I’ve been pining for Sasha since we were freshies. If I’m going to do anything about the way I feel for her, it better be now or never. And if it blows up in my face, at least I’ll finally know for sure whether anything could happen between us.
A burst of electrical energy courses through my veins as I decide it’s time to finally take action.
I cup Sasha’s face in my hands and plant my lips on hers.
Chapter Three
