Lights camera passion, p.14
Lights, Camera, Passion, page 14
To my surprise, he never reached out after that wrap party. I definitely expected him to, and I’m not sure if that’s narcissistic of me or just hopeful, but I was waiting for him to at least text.
Sure, I never did either, but I was still holding on to my anger.
The week following our wrap party, photos started coming out of Jacoby and Faye being out together, so there’s rumors of a rekindled relationship and gossip about mine and Jacoby’s friendship.
Of course, we haven’t been seen out together, so it fuels the story that we’re still fighting over the same girl. However, the social media team for Another Life have been posting behind the scenes photos and videos that were taken while filming. The hope is that this will keep the hype up on the movie and put an end to the rumors. So some people believe we’re just as close as ever, some choose to believe we hate each other over Faye, and others are hoping we’re secretly together, which sort of makes me laugh.
As I wait for the shoot to begin, I scroll through social media and find photos of Jacoby and I from when we were filming the end of the movie. Fans get a hold of behind the scenes pictures, or even scenes filmed on public streets and put together edits. I click on the comments of one video and read through them.
Oh my god, the way he’s touching him.
They’re low-key fucking. At least I hope so.
Y’all are crazy. You can see the tension in Jacoby’s face. He hates him.
Wrong. That’s sexual tension. He wants to jump his bones.
They are so cute!
I can’t wait for this movie.
Did you see the way Roman looked at Jacoby’s mouth?? Lord have mercy. If someone looked at me like that I’d be on my knees.
I’m feral.
I want my boyfriends to be boyfriends!!
I laugh, shaking my head, and then stumble across some thirst trap edits of Jacoby at the Venice film festival. Everything is in slow motion as he smiles and poses for cameras. He winks at someone in the crowd, and I hate what that wink does to me as I watch.
“Hello.”
I jolt, nearly dropping my phone as I look up and spot Jacoby right in front of me.
“Shit.”
He doesn’t grin, he just watches me as I turn off the phone and pocket it.
“How are you?” he asks.
“Fine.” My heart is still racing slightly, but I push my shoulders back and give him what I hope is a casual once-over. “You?”
“Great.”
His tone implies differently, but I don’t question it.
“Well, good. So, I guess we’re back to being fake best friends for the interview.”
“I guess.”
“Anything new I should know? Dating anyone?”
I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. They come out bitter and jealous, but they don’t taste good for another reason. We both know even if he’s “dating” someone, it’s not real.
He flattens his lips into a straight line. “Nope.” Looking away, he asks, “Are you? I’ve seen you’ve been photographed with Malia recently.”
“Ah. Keeping an eye on me?”
His head swivels back and his eyes stare into mine. “It’s not like I’m watching fan edit videos.”
My jaw drops as I realize he saw what I was watching. “I didn’t search for it, it was just in my feed.”
“The feed that caters to your likes.” His lips finally twitch into an almost grin.
Before I can continue arguing, his assistant comes up to him. “We’re ready.”
Shortly after, mine approaches and informs me of the same thing. We’ve both been dressed and made up for the pictures, so we make our way to the set and get started.
We start with shots of both of us in front of a white background, with the direction of maintaining stoic expressions. We switch outfits and backgrounds and have more of a playful shoot. We’re directed to pretend like we’re playing a card game, but I bend half the deck and let them go flying at Jacoby. He laughs and brings up his arms to block them, and the director thinks it’s fantastic.
After another outfit and scene change, we take turns with individual photos. I chat with my assistant, Pilar, on the sidelines as the photographer directs Jacoby into positions. He’s on a chair in one of his classic black suits, but the top few buttons are undone, and the makeup artist and hairstylist are in front of him making slight changes.
His hair is mussed up and not in its usual pristine condition. I can’t take my eyes off of him as he moves, removing the jacket for the next set of photos as someone comes to help roll up the sleeves of his shirt in just the right way. They’re taking apart his normal put-together facade and I find myself fascinated.
He’s told to slouch and lean, when he’s usually so stiff and proper. They undo the buttons on the shirt, revealing a tank top underneath, and he’s handed a glass of liquor to hold onto as he sits on the floor in front of the chair with his legs bent.
His eyes find mine briefly before he’s staring back into the lens.
“Holy shit,” I say under my breath, taken away by his beauty.
“What’s that?” Pilar asks, typing into her phone.
“Oh. Nothing.”
Except I’m thinking I want to renege on what I told him before. He doesn't have to beg me, because I’m damn near ready to beg him. For what? Anything. A kiss. A touch. Just a reminder that what we had was actually real. That it wasn’t a fever dream.
The stubborn part of me wants him to crawl back to me though, and my anger still bubbles under the surface.
Once he’s done, it’s my turn. My photos are taken in a similar way, but my starting outfit is what I’m known for. Bright colors and eye-catching designs. They slowly strip me down, changing my positions and hair, but as my eyes dance around, I notice Jacoby isn’t watching. And that bothers me.
When I’m down to the last shots, my button up completely open and exposing my naked torso, I lie across a vintage couch with one leg planted on the floor and the other dangling over the end.
Movement catches my attention, and I watch as Jacoby comes to a stop in the back. The way he’s looking at me makes me swallow, because he’s not looking at my face. He’s drinking in my entire body, and it sets me on fire.
The photographer gets my attention and snaps a few more.
“Oh, wait. Jacoby,” he calls out, spinning around with the camera in his hand. “Is Jacoby still dressed?”
“He’s here,” someone says.
Jacoby walks forward, still mostly in what he was wearing for his own shoot, except he put on a T-shirt.
“Come. Take this off,” the photographer says, touching the shirt.
Jacoby removes it and hands it to someone nearby.
“Shoes off for both of you.”
Assistants come to set to take what we discard as the photographer seems to come up with a new idea on the spot.
By the time he’s ready to take pictures again, we’re both barefoot, and my shirt is still open but now the button of my pants is undone. Jacoby has on his undershirt that reveals his broad shoulders and toned arms, and black slacks. I’m directed to lay just as I was before and Jacoby sits in front of the couch. The photographer tells me to let my hand fall over Jacoby’s shoulder, so I do it.
After a couple dozen or so shots, we’re done and invited to look at some of the photos. The first thing I think of when I see the most recent shots are that it looks like we just got done hooking up, which makes me think of our last time together.
“Looks really good, right?” the photographer says with a wide smile.
Jacoby’s studying them intently. He stands up straight and smiles. “Yes. Very good. Thank you.”
His eyes land on my face and I try to read the emotion in his gaze but I can’t. He’s gone before I can even think about it.
With one final peek at the pictures on the screen, I know that one from this collection will end up safely tucked away in my house somewhere.
CHAPTER 29
After I’m changed, I get ready to meet up with Jacoby in another room on a different floor of the building. We’ll be interviewed by an outside party, and then we’ll interview each other in what’s supposed to be a fun, carefree sort of thing.
“You have thirty minutes to eat and take care of anything else you need to before I bring you over to the interviewer,” Pilar says. “They have sandwiches and other things set up over here,” she tells me, pointing toward an open door. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Thanks.”
I make my way into the room she pointed out and find a couple tables and chairs and a small loveseat. There’s food set up on a long countertop and a fridge with a variety of drinks.
I grab a finger sandwich and eat half of it in one bite, then put a few more on my plate. As I’m picking up baby carrots with tiny tongs, the door opens and Jacoby and his assistant walk in.
Turning my back on them, I scoop some ranch onto my plate and finish eating my first sandwich.
Jacoby whispers something to the other guy, and by the time I turn to take a seat at one of the tables, his assistant is gone.
I give him a quick inspection before continuing to eat my food as he gathers his. When he turns to sit down, I lean back and watch him, waiting to see if he’ll choose to sit with me or at the other table.
He debates it, his eyes scanning me before flicking toward the empty table. He decides not to sit with me, but chooses to face my direction, watching me as he picks up his sandwich.
I shake my head and continue to eat, choosing to give him the silent treatment rather than my usual sarcastic comments.
Halfway into the thirty minutes we have before the interview, he finally speaks.
“Roman.”
I glance up, leaning back in my chair with one leg outstretched. “Jacoby.”
“I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings. I’m not used to having to worry about that.”
“You’re used to being an uncaring asshole?”
He twists his lips as he levels me with a stare. “I’m not used to having anyone in my life who cared enough to be hurt by anything I did or said.”
I sit up straight, emotions tugging at my heart. “Well. Okay. Thank you for the apology.” I swallow, knowing I need to say more, but feeling conflicted about the whole situation.
He seems to realize that’s all he’s going to get, so he gives me a nod and picks up his plate to throw in the trash. God, I hate when he’s so controlled like this. So stiff and not himself.
“I’d still like to hear you beg.”
He turns around, his eyes showcasing a bit of shock. “Not gonna happen.”
“You don’t want me?” I tease, giving him a smirk.
His blue-green eyes drink me in from head to toe, cataloging every inch of me. My body warms under his slow perusal. He’s looking at me as if I’m naked, and I quickly want to be.
When his gaze lands on my face, he gives a slight shake of his head. “That’s not what I said.”
My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and it feels like we’re back to our old ways. He has me under his spell, and I’m willing to do anything he wants as long as he tells me exactly what it is. But that can’t happen. He has to beg me. He has to prove how much he wants me before I just drop to my knees. I’m not the one in the wrong.
I force a bravado I don’t feel, since it’s my go-to anyway. Fake it and nobody will know just how hurt and broken you are.
Standing up, I take a couple steps toward him. “So, you do want me?”
He swallows. “I’ve wanted you since before I knew it was a possibility to have you.”
I freeze in place, not expecting that answer. “Then why—”
Jacoby cuts me off. “I’m afraid, and you’re not someone to keep hidden.” He shakes his head. “I can’t—”
“All right, let’s start heading up,” Pilar says, bursting into the room.
Jacoby straightens up and looks at Pilar over my shoulder, but I stare at him a few seconds longer.
“Yeah, we should get going,” he says after clearing his throat.
He walks past me, giving me a sidelong glance before disappearing through the door.
“Come on, let’s go,” Pilar says.
In the middle of the interview, I still can’t stop thinking about what Jacoby said. He’s never had anyone in his life care enough to be hurt. That pangs me, and I know it has to leave him with an ache in his chest. But here we are with plastered smiles, talking about romance.
“And how do you feel about bringing these beloved characters to life? I imagine there’s readers all over the world that have their own interpretation of how these two men look and behave,” the interviewer, Malcolm says. “So, is there any pressure?”
“Well,” Jacoby starts, “I read the book when I was chosen for this role, and immediately understood why it’s so adored. I fell in love with Andrew and William’s story like so many others had. We were lucky enough to be able to have discussions with the author, and I’d ask him if there were any more bits of information that could only live in his brain, you know? He created these people and had backgrounds for them and personality traits, and sometimes not everything makes it to the book, but it’s still his vision, and I wanted to know everything. I really put myself in William’s shoes, and I hope that everyone thinks I gave him a little justice. Roman and I put everything we had into these characters.”
“I read the book as well,” I say. “Twice, actually. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking, sexy and heartfelt, and because of its large fandom, I definitely felt the pressure. Having Jacoby as an acting partner in this really helped. He’s amazing, right?” I say with a laugh. “Everyone knows that, and to have someone like him work opposite me, it really helped elevate my skills as an actor.” I nudge Jacoby’s arm. “Can’t have him showing me up too much.”
Malcolm laughs. “And you two are friends, right?”
“Well, I think the media has kind of run wild with our story. One day we’re best friends and another day we’re enemies.” I glance at Jacoby who’s watching me with curious eyes. “The truth of the matter is, we weren’t exactly friends when this movie started filming. We had run into each other a few times, but that’s about it.”
“Really?” Malcolm questions. “I’ve seen some behind the scenes footage, and you guys seem really close.”
“Yeah, well, we got close. I’d say we’re friends now, but it’s not like we grew up together or anything.”
“Like you mentioned, the media has had a field day with some stories about you two. One particular rumor that had a spotlight on it didn’t just include you two, though. Is that not true either?”
Jacoby chuckles. “We already know what this is about, and no, there were never any problems between us when it came to a specific actress.”
“Definitely not,” I add.
“Okay, I heard the director put you two in a cabin for three days so you’d be more in the headspace of William and Andrew. Is that true, and if so, how did it go?”
We both laugh and Jacoby starts. “Yes, it’s true, and it was fine. This one showers way too long.”
“And this one can’t drink regular milk.”
Jacoby rolls his eyes. “We didn’t have a TV, so we just cooked, went over the script, and…” He shrugs. “We got to know each other a little better.”
I glance at him and nod. “Yeah.”
“I imagine it was good that you did get along and became friends. With a film like this, where there are so many intimate scenes, did you ever feel worried about how it would come across on camera?”
“No, I was never worried,” Jacoby replies, messing with his tie. “We’re actors, and regardless of whether it’s a fight scene, a crying scene, or a sex scene, we’re doing our job and giving the best performance possible. I could’ve hated Roman and still made you believe I didn’t.”
I snort. “What he said is true, however, I will say this—it was nice knowing I could go to Jacoby with some trepidation, and not for any other reason except I had never done scenes like this before, and he’d offer advice and make me feel comfortable and confident. I don’t imagine every actor is like that, and again, that’s why I’m glad he was the one I was working with. He really did make me better, and I’m excited for everyone to see that when they watch the film.”
I feel his gaze on me, but I can’t look at him. Not now. Not while Malcom is watching our every movement.
“The director is a gay man, the author is a bisexual man, and you two are perceived to be straight. Did you ever think that maybe—”
“I’m going to stop you right there, Malcolm,” Jacoby says, making Malcolm's eyebrows reach for his hairline. “Our sexuality is not the point of this interview.”
“I suppose you’re right, but there are people out there who question why these roles weren’t given to queer men.”
“Again, to think that, would be to presume. And I do believe gay actors should get roles, but I don’t believe they should only be given gay roles. There aren’t enough queer movies being made, and to limit them to only those roles would mean they wouldn’t work very often.”
“To your point,” Malcolm continues, “since there aren’t many queer movies, don’t you believe that queer actors should get those parts? Why you?”
I stare at Jacoby in shock. He’s fuming. His jaw is clenched and his nostrils flare with each intake of breath. He’s trying not to lose it, but I can tell he’s mad.
“I believe that’s a question for the casting director or perhaps the director of the film himself,” I say, chiming in. “Mike trusted us with these characters, as did the author of the story. We are doing what actors do and transforming into people who aren’t us and have experiences that maybe we don’t. I was never the son of an alcoholic mother, and yet, I played one. And back to what Jacoby said, when people question the sexualities of others they don’t know, you could be forcing them into an uncomfortable situation. It’s best to tread lightly.” I relax in my seat a bit more and give him a forced smile.
