“Extras are an important part of the production, even if they don’t make the final cut. They help scenes look and feel more authentic.” He snags my shirt from the back of the chair where I left it and tosses it to me. “Now stop arguing and put your darned clothes on so we can get out of here. I don’t want to be late for my first professional acting job.”
“My skates are back at the hockey house.” We went straight to Kolby’s dorm room after dropping Hannah off at the farm on our way back from Rhode Island, where we spent Christmas break. Or most of Christmas break. We had to come back early when Kolby got the call that he’d booked one of the lead roles in the music video.
It’s been a good week for him. He also got the go-ahead from the head of the theater department to start an improv troupe, although she vetoed his idea to call it Gag Reflex. I also vetoed his suggestion that I join the group. Improv will always hold a special place in my heart—it’s what brought me and Kolby together—but my acting career is over.
Or so I thought until my boyfriend brought up this extra business.
“We can stop and get your skates on the way over,” he says, his voice—and those damn eyes—pleading with me to say yes.
I admit defeat and finish getting dressed. Then we hop in my Jeep, which I convinced my parents to let me drive back to campus, and head for Lakeside Park, where they’re filming the skating scene, with a quick stop at the hockey house for me to grab my skates and a duffel bag that Kolby insists I pack with a few different outfits for wardrobe to choose from.
They’ve got the whole park blocked off with film trucks and equipment and security guards, but Kolby has a pass that he shows one of the guards, and we’re allowed in. I park the Wrangler in the lot, and we grab our bags and skates, planning to make our way toward the outdoor rink, where we’re supposed to ask for Todd, one of the production assistants. We’ve barely got our stuff out of the Jeep when someone screams our names from across the asphalt.
“Kolby. Adam. Over here.”
Ian’s standing in the grass at the edge of the parking lot, waving his arms like an air traffic controller. “The rink is this way.”
Kolby trots over to him, and I follow. Ian’s an extra, like me, so hopefully we can stick together while Kolby’s doing his star thing. Although knowing Ian, I’m not sure if being stuck with him is good or bad.
Don’t get me wrong. Anyone who’s a friend of Kolby is a friend of mine, and Ian’s been a good friend to him, even—maybe especially—when I wasn’t. I’m grateful to him for that. But the guy can be a bit over the top sometimes.
Kolby throws an arm around Ian’s shoulder, something that would make me jealous if I wasn’t so secure in our relationship. And if I wasn’t one hundred percent certain that Ian is firmly in Kolby’s friend zone.
“Still wish you were cast opposite me,” Kolby says, giving Ian’s arm a squeeze. “We would have made a great on-screen couple.”
My fingers curl into fists, and it takes all my mental backbone to make them to relax. Okay, so I still get a little jealous. But that doesn’t mean I can’t control it. I’m a big boy. And not just physically. I can act like a mature, rational adult when I have to, no matter how much it sucks to hear my boyfriend talk about being half of a couple with another guy. Even if it is only for the camera.
Ian shrugs off Kolby’s compliment and the arm around his shoulder, making me feel a little bit better. “It’s cool. They were clearly going in a different direction. And the casting director said she’d keep my headshot and resume on file for future projects. Who knows? Maybe next time she’ll need a sassy redhead who can speak three languages and finish a Rubik’s Cube in under a minute.”
“You can speak three languages?” Kolby asks. I’m more impressed with the Rubik’s Cube thing, but to each his own.
“Sure.” Ian counts them off on his fingers. “English, Spanish, and Klingon.”
Kolby rolls his eyes. “Klingon doesn’t count.”
“Tell that to Gene Roddenberry,” Ian snarks.
He leads us across the snow-dusted lawn to the skating rink. Although I’m pretty sure we could have found it ourselves given the huge number of people gathered around it, not to mention the lights and cameras. A guy with a clipboard and headset who I assume is Todd breaks free from the crowd and rushes over to greet us.
“You must be Kolby.” He sticks out his free hand, and my boyfriend shakes it. “I’m Todd, one of the PAs. I recognize you from your headshot. I’m supposed to take you to wardrobe and then hair and makeup. The guys from the band are already here, but there’s been an, uh, issue with your costar.”
Kolby’s eyes narrow, drawing his brows together and making those adorable creases in his forehead deepen into grooves. “What kind of issue?”
“I’ll explain on the way.” Todd turns to me and Ian, no doubt taking in our bags and skates. “You two must be extras. Do you see the woman in the bright pink parka?”
He points to her, and we nod.
“That’s Roz. She’s in charge of the background talent. Report to her, and she’ll tell you where to go.”
“Great, thanks,” I say, although I’m feeling anything but great and not the least bit thankful because this is where Kolby and I part ways. I knew it would happen eventually, what with him being the star and all, but I was hoping we’d have a little more time before we got split up.
Plus, it’s occurred to me that whoever this costar is and whatever issue he’s having, I’m going to have to spend the day watching him paw my boyfriend. Or worse. Hell, I got jealous just thinking of Kolby and Ian as an onscreen couple, and I know there’s nothing between them. Actually seeing Kolby getting cozy with a complete stranger is going to be fucking torture.
Yet another reason why me being an extra is a bad idea. At least if I was on the sidelines, like I was supposed to be, I could fade into the background. Instead, I have tobethe damn background and somehow figure out how to keep my inner green monster from rearing its ugly head.
My disappointment must show on my face because Kolby gives me the biggest, tightest hug and drops a kiss on my forehead. “It’s okay, babe. Ian will be with you. You’re gonna be great.”
Oh, good. He thinks I’ve got stage fright. Or camera fright, I guess. Either way, it’s better than him thinking I’m a jealous asshole, even if that’s what I’m acting like.
