I chuckle. “Film is nothing like school plays, so you’re not missing out. Have you read the script?”
She nods. The ballroom dancing scene will be part of a montage scene on the film, where it shows slow-motion clips of us dancing over voiceovers and flashbacks of the rest of the movie. There’s not much talking, and not much to do but dance.
“We’ve got this,” I say, giving her a professional smile, as opposed to the smile I wish I could give her. Theyou are so beautiful it makes my insides hurtsmile. If I weren’t famous and she was just some woman I met in my regular life, I’d give her the second smile. But that’s not our situation and I have to hold it together here.
When the scene begins, a beautiful slow song plays over the ballroom’s speakers. It’s not the same song that will be in the movie because those sound effects will be added later on, but this music is for our benefit so we know what tempo we’re dancing to. The director gives out a few more directions to the extras—all couples who are supposed to see us dancing and then slowly move to the edge of the room, giving the romantic couple a moment to themselves while everyone watches on adoringly.
For now, Annie and I are standing in the middle of the extras, two cameras on either side of us. The director yells, “Action!”
I slide my hands around her waist and pull her close. She smiles up at me, a nervous smile that I wish I could turn into a happy smile with just a quick look—but she remains nervous over the next minute or two. We dance—I lead and she follows—while surrounded by all these extras.
When the music gets louder, it’s the extras’ clue to take notice of the romantic couple and start backing away. I hold Annie close, doing the actor thing of pretending I’m my character, and she’s Andrea’s character, but even though I look professional on the outside, I’m internally thinking about how dang beautiful she is.
Even with her face covered in white plastic dots, she’s striking. Her slender nose, and heart-shaped face, and adorably cute eyes that keep flickering up to mine nervously.
I breathe her in, holding tightly to her back, my hand slippery on the silk fabric as I spin her around, dancing to the song.
“Cut!”
The music stops and so do we.
“Let’s take it from the top,” the director calls out.
“What did I do wrong?” Annie asks him.
“Nothing, you were great.”
She turns to me, fear in her eyes as the extras move back into position.
“It’s a movie,” I whisper. “We often have to do the same thing over and over.”
She draws in a deep breath. “Okay.”
I smile, my hand slipping down to take hers. “You’re doing great. Just breathe.”
“I’m trying,” she says with a little chuckle. Then we begin again.
Again, and again, I sweep her into my arms, hug her close, smell the light floral scent of her perfume, and look deep into her beautiful eyes.
The makeup crew powders our faces between takes, and then we start again.
After a couple of hours, I’ve been dancing with this woman so much it feels like second nature. I’m no longer leading the dance—we are in sync, moving rhythmically to each other’s bodies, getting lost in each other’s eyes.
At least that’s what it feels like to me.
Annie seems more at ease. Like she’s no longer in fear of puking or passing out. But as for her feelings about me? I don’t know if she’s just acting or what. But every time we get to the part where the extras back away and it’s just us, she looks up at me through her eyelashes and her cheeks turn a little bit pink and I feel like this moment is just for us. Every single time we do it, it feels like the first time. I’ll never tire of dancing with her—if anything, I’m growing addicted to it.
“Perfection!” the director calls out on his megaphone. “Absolute perfection.”
He hasn’t cut the scene yet, so we keep dancing, keep staring into each other’s eyes. This is the kind of scene where he can give us stage directions because the sound won’t be used for the final film.
Then he yells, “Now let’s seal this moment with a kiss!”
Internally, my eyes widen with surprise. But on the outside, my actor self has been trained against reacting to my thoughts—that’s an easy way to ruin a scene. I tip my head down a bit so it looks like we’re about to kiss, the same way Andrea had said we’d pretend to kiss since she didn’t want to actually kiss until it was necessary.
But Annie must not have gotten the memo because she slides her hands around my neck and smirks just a tiny bit before she kisses me.
My entire body lights up.
