“Quiet on set. Take one…Action!”
I don’t ever let my guard down. Why would I? Letting down walls means getting hurt. There’s no way around that one. I would never be like Quinn. Deciding that love was worth taking a risk, sprinting through the rain just so that he could possibly, maybe get his heart broken. Sure. Yeah. This movie has a happy ending. We all know life is very different.
I’ve never been in love, either, but I still have to get myself into that frame of mind. The fear. The hope. The excitement. That’s what I’d planned for in this scene, but a new emotion begins to bubble. The realization that I’ll probably never feel the way Quinn does. I’ll never be in love. I’ll never take my walls down, and because of that, I’ll always be alone. I’ve never been so alone in my life as I am now. I don’t know how to connect with people, and fuck—fuck, it’s painful to look at others falling in love, even fake characters like Quinn and Riley. It’s hard to see other people building friendships and relationships and families that I want, too, even if I’d never admit it out loud. I’ve given up. I don’t think I’m meant to have anyone in my life sometimes. I’m too fucked up for anyone to really love.
The scene starts with me sprinting, but the emotion leaves me gasping. I stop halfway and lean over, hands on my knees, face twisted in more pain than I’m expecting to release. Dave doesn’t call cut, so I keep going. Stand up straight, chest and shoulders heaving. Fuck. I’m actually crying. The realization makes me laugh. I shake my head, wipe my eyes. Have to finish the scene. I keep running.
I hit the end of the block. Dave calls cut, and I’m immediately swarmed by wardrobe. Dave comes up behind a woman who’s jabbing a soft towel at my face.
“Wasn’t expecting that direction, Gray,” he says. He doesn’t seem upset.
“Yeah. I don’t know. It just came out.”
Dave shrugs. “It works. More interesting than only running down the block like the script says. An extra beat of emotion.” He eyes me carefully. I don’t know what he’s thinking. Probably that it’s a good thing that I can act, because otherwise, I’d be nothing but an annoying piece of shit. “All right. Let’s do another take. Just try running down the block this time, okay? To give some options.”
“Sure. Okay.”
When I get back to the starting point, I notice Matt standing under the shade of the holding tent. He’s watching me. When I meet his gaze he looks away quickly. Huh. Maybe he’s studying up on me, too. It’d be good if he was. We’re going to need to be serious about our other roles if we want to fool anyone.
Mattie
Love Me Dearly had long days, and I wasn’t even a lead actor, but for whatever reason the schedule for Write Anything is much gentler. My scenes start shooting around noon. But…I’m curious. I stand beneath the holding tent. There’s a monitor where I can watch Logan from the camera’s perspective, but I want to see him in action, study his skill and see what I can learn. It’s embarrassing when he looks up and catches me staring.
I’ve got the script in hand. I’ve spent basically every free second going over my lines again and again, even though they’re so memorized I’m pretty sure they’re burned into my brain for the rest of my life. I took up Dave’s offer to get an assistant to rehearse with me, too. I was grateful that he made it sound like it was up to me, and not a firm request. That table read was pretty abysmal, after all, I have to admit. When I apologized to him for it, he shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You came in a lot later than everyone else. You haven’t had a chance to figure out your character yet.” His smile became just a little more forced in that second. “Just. You know. Try to figure it out before you get onto set.”
Riley is similar to me in some ways, like when it comes to shame about his sexuality—but personality-wise? He’s the opposite of me. He’s everything I wish I could be. He laughs loudly, freely, dances when he wants to dance and sings when he wants to sing. He could happily run through the middle of a field butt naked. I’ve always been the kind of guy who would rather suppress myself so that I won’t be judged. I think that’s why it hurts, more than anything, when someone says I’m boring. There’s nothing wrong with being an introvert, but I wouldn’t say that I am one. I actually love speaking to people—feel energized when I get to know others. But I can also be so shy and awkward and like I’m trapped in a shell, and…I’ll never be the life of the party, like Logan Gray and his celebrity friends, but I wish I could feel comfortable enough in my skin to just be myself.
Gray’s scenes wrap quickly. He’s talented as hell, no one can deny that, and he nails each take. There’s no point in wasting money and time by doing more than necessary. He has his mic taken off, and he’s given the green light to take a break. I’m surprised when I see him walking off set—and right toward me. He’s still wet, his hair dripping. He pats it dry with a towel, and some black strands cutely stick up straight. It’s funny that his hair’s texture also changes when it’s wet, like mine. Maybe it’s because he’s mixed. His father, Jameson Gray, is white. He seems like an intimidating man, from what I’ve seen in photos and interviews. Jameson’s production company tends to release Michael Bay–like films. It’s almost funny, how unalike Jameson and Logan Gray seem to be.
Logan’s smirk inches onto his face as he gets closer to me. “Staring at me longingly from across set? Isn’t it a little too early for that?”
My face heats up. “No. I was just watching. I was curious.”
He leans against the table where I’d set up camp. “Relax. I figured I’d come over. Check off our assignment for the day.”
Dave had created a literal schedule and even printed it out for us. “Your emails might be hacked,” he said, but I think he was just excited to hand us the papers like they were for an official production. Right now, Logan and I are supposed to be seen speaking and laughing, as if we’re starting to like each other. Dave is talking to his assistant, but he meets my eye from across set with a grin. He looks like he’s seconds from giving a thumbs-up. He isn’t as subtle as he could be.
“Right. This is going to be kind of weird, huh?”
Gray shrugs, grabs a cup, and presses down on a nozzle for some coffee. Isn’t it too hot for that? “Not really. Just got out of one of these—ah—arrangements.”
It takes me a second before it clicks. “Wait, really? Willow Grace was—？”
“Keep it down.”
I clear my throat and turn my back to the rest of set, also facing the table. God. Emma would flip if I told her about this one. “So, all of that with the breakup…？”
“Planned. She wanted to release the video. I went along with it.”
I wasn’t going to mention the video. I rub my cheek awkwardly.
Logan notices. “You’re not shy about my porno, are you?” He practically laughs at my silent non-reaction. “You’ll have to get over that shyness pretty quickly.”