“What?” I looked at him again.
“If you don’t want to write about it anyway, why did you ask?” he asked, challenging me the way he always did.
“Because…” My jaw tightened. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
Sighing, I threw my hands in the air. “No, Callan, I don’t know. Maybe I was being talked into it by Holland, or maybe I truly thought that it would be a good idea. But it’s fine. I can write about some indie production.”
I was ready to end this conversation and head upstairs to lock myself in my room, but my feet wouldn’t move, and my eyes wouldn’t stop staring into his.
Get a fucking grip, Lana!
“No.”
I raised a brow. “No what?”
“No, you won’t write about some indie production. You can write about this,” he told me while waving his hand at the room behind him.
I frowned. “You just said no.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
He looked past me for a moment, then down at the floor, like he was trying to find the right words. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer. “Because you’re right. What we do is film production. It’s not random. It’s not cheap or meaningless, no matter what people think.”
He pulled the door closed behind him and took a step closer. His defensiveness wasn’t directed at me, but he still frowned as I had somehow offended him. “The movies we makeinvolve more than what Hollywood does half the time. We think about people first. The ones in front of the camera and the ones who’ll watch. Every actor is taken care of from start to finish. We think about how they’ll feel, how they’ll look, how the story will translate for whoever’s watching it later.” His eyes lifted to mine. “It’s not just about money. Or shock value. It’s about connection, and that’s still storytelling. No one ever gives us credit for that.”
I pursed my lips and nodded slowly, finding myself agreeing with him. But I wasn’t sure what to say.
“Point is that every fucking person on this planet has sex, and just because we film it, shouldn’t make the act of having sex a taboo topic.”
He was right, and I admired him for being so passionate about his work. I’ve always respected those people the most who were proud of the work they did, and Callan was one of those people. And, just like he said, even though porn was frowned upon by many, there were even more people who watched porn on a daily basis.
It was only a taboo topic because some were uncomfortable talking about intimacy, but then they go home and have sex themselves.
“It’s hypocritical,” I heard myself say.
“Yeah.” He crossed his arms again, making his biceps flex. “If you want to write about the real part of it, you can. And I know it will be brilliant.”
I bit my cheeks and felt heat rising up my neck as he kept looking at me with his intense, brown eyes. I didn’t want to mess this up. Not because it was his world. But because I knew I could turn something so frowned-upon into a discussion that could get people to stop talking badly about the adult film industry.
“Okay. Thanks for trusting me with this.”
That was a first. Getting so personal with him. But it showed me that Callan wasn’t just a broody asshole who dictatedto others to stay in control. He was a real human with real feelings and a passion about his job that not many had.
He nodded, then studied me again before saying, “That means you’ll have to watch.”
I knew what he meant. “I know.”
“Think you can handle that part, too?”
I wasn’t sure, but I was willing. “I’ll sort of have to if I want to write abrilliantessay about an adult film production.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “When is the essay due?”
“In three weeks.”
