But now, I’m stuck in an awkward as fuck situation. Walking into the room and seeing Sloane half-naked fills my gut with dread.
Why didn’t I pick someone with dark hair? Or red hair? Or someone petite? Or extra curvy? It would be easier for me to go through the motions and disassociate from the experience if Sloane didn’t resemble Annabelle. But every feature they share is a reminder that it feels like she's a cheap replacement for the real thing.
It doesn’t matter that it’s acting. It still feels wrong.
A stylist greets me, separating me from Annabelle and steering me toward the corner of the room where hair and makeup are set up. The woman, wearing an intense look of concentration, pushes me into a chair. She adjusts the cowboy hat on my head before styling each individual strand of hair that peeks out from beneath it.
As she works, Colt talks, walking me through his vision for the next part of the video, mapping out the upcoming sequence of shots.
Once the cameras roll, Sloane and I stumble into the motel room. I shut the door behind us, pressing her up against it. At first, it’s okay. But like a lobster dropped into water that’s slowly coming to a boil, the heat creeps up. Before I know it, it’s too much. Too hot. Too real.
Standing outside camera range, Colt directs us, telling us what to do and how to act.
“Hayes, shake off the nerves. Loosen up.”
“Run your hand down her side, Hayes. Slide your hand under the bottom hem of her T-shirt and then pull it off.”
“Sloane, take his cowboy hat off and put it on your head. That’s it. Give him a sassy smirk. I love it. Love the energy, Sloane.”
“Nuzzle her neck, make it look like you’re going to kiss her, Hayes.”
“Now run your fingers through his hair.”
With every touch, every article of clothing that is shed, it feels like torture. Like I’m betraying Annabelle. I sigh with relief when Colt finally yells cut. But I know this is only the beginning. From here on out, each scene will only get more intense.
A hairstylist swoops in to adjust my hair, artfully tousling it while someone from wardrobe questions Colt. “What state of undress do you want Hayes in, Colt? Stripped down?”
Colt tilts his head from side to side. “Not yet. I want him rumpled, but not naked.”
“Shirt off? Jeans on but unbuttoned?” the stylist suggests.
“I like that idea,” I chime in, desperate to keep as many barriers between Sloane and me for as long as possible. Especially since I see another person from the wardrobe department instructing Sloane to remove her outerwear, leaving her in only lingerie.
Colt nods. “Yeah, let’s try that.” Calling Sloane over, he preps us for the next scene. “We’re starting off with some hazy, wide shots before the camera will zoom in, focusing on Hayes lying on the bed.Half-reclined, lounging against the headboard. One hand behind your head, one hand on the waistband of your jeans.” Colt then turns from me to Sloane. “Sloane, I want you to crawl across the bed slowly. When you reach him, hover above Hayes’ lap. This scene is all about building tension. Keep it slow, but keep it charged. Got it?”
We both nod, and Colt calls for quiet on the set. My eyes dart to where Annabelle stands next to Charlotte and several crew members. They’re huddled just outside the open door, standing on the concrete walkway, but she still has a perfect view of the bed.
God, I hate this.
The music starts up, and Sloane moves into position. She bites her lower lip, keeping her eyes at half-mast, like she’s a little drunk and overcome with desire. She sashays across the room as she approaches the bed.
“Cut!” Colt barks. The music stops. The cameras roll back. “Hayes, stop looking around. Your focus is entirely on Sloane.”
So, we start again.
And again.
By the fifth take, I manage to keep my attention off Annabelle and on Sloane as Colt murmurs instructions as filming continues.
“Sloane, move your hand to his chest.”
“Do what feels natural.”
“Hayes, grip the back of her head. Make it look like you’re about to pull her in for a kiss.”
“Sloane, lean forward. Get closer to Hayes.”
“Bring your mouth to her neck.”
