His eyes are like ice in the golden sunlight cutting through the window. They’re cold, hard, but something else too. He’s wearing that same frustrating look he’s had on his face all day.
I’m not sure what my face does, but it must not be right, because the director calls, “Cut!”
Dex hesitates for one moment, then two. Finally, he takes his hand off my back and steps away.
“Let’s try that again,” the director says. “Softer faces, both of you. And smile. You’re supposed to be in love.”
I let out a scoff, and the director glances at me, but he doesn’t ask for an explanation. Behind him, two women in the film crew exchange knowing looks.
“Reset!”
The music turns off, and Dex and I go back to our original spots to try again.
It takes a few more tries to get the window scene right, and then the vanity scene goes by quickly. I just have to sit there pretending to touch up my makeup while Dex watches and smiles at me in the background. But then it’s time for the last scene: the bed scene.
There’s a quick wardrobe change, and they bring in one of those folding screens for me to get changed behind. I slip out of the silver dress, then into a sexy white nightgown that shows the majority of my back and has lace along the edges. A silky robe goes over the top, and one of the stylists tousles my hair a bit to make it look softer.
When I’m done and they move the screen away, Dex is waiting on the other side. He’s sitting at the end of the bed, shirtless, completely tatted up, wearing just his black pants now. His blue eyes latch on to me, then sweep up and down my body.
It makes me feel powerful. But why? Why can I still draw his gaze? I’m not Serena, will never be Serena. So why is he looking at me like that?
The director swoops in, offering guidance for how he wants the scene to go. I listen in a vague sort of way, but really, I’m just remembering that day at Dex’s house, the look on his face when I asked him what I meant to him.
And he told me without saying a thing: Nothing. I mean nothing to him.
The director has the camera crew move to the side of the bed so they can film us at the end of it.
Once everyone is ready to go, he calls, “Action!”
I paste a fake smile onto my lips and move toward Dex. His hands come up to touch my hips, and it’s not acting when I soften into his touch. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Dex leans his head in so it’s resting just below my sternum, his arms snaking around my body to pull me into an embrace.
And again, I need no direction. I lower my head, bury my face in his hair. He smells fresh, and the scent of his shampoo takes me back to the shower we shared, when he touched me so tenderly, placed kisses along my bare shoulders. I move my fingers through his hair, and his arms tighten in response.
He’s acting, I remind myself. This isn’t real.
The director calls for us to cut, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think Dex hesitated a moment longer than necessary before releasing me. I step away and turn my face so I can’t see his eyes.
The director has us switch it up now so that we’re both lying in the bed. Dex still hasn’t said a word to me. Not a word.
The music starts up, and Dex’s vocals bleed through the speakers.
“I’m just a ghost without her, wandering in the cold, caught in the shadows of a love story I never let get told. I let her slip away, too scared to face the truth. Now I’m haunted by her absence in this lonely fuckin’ youth.”
The song lyrics meant little to me while we were recording, but now they hit me hard, right in the stomach.
The music continues to play, and now the cameras are rolling.
“I see her face in every shadow, hear her voice in every sound. But she’s gone, lost to the dark, and I’m left here to drown. I was a fool to let her go, blinded by my fear. Now I’m left with nothing but the ghost of her so near.”
Dex meets my eyes as I shift in the bed, slipping one bare leg over his body so I’m straddling him, but it feels like he doesn’t see me, like he’s looking right through me.
Maybe I really am a ghost.
“I’m just a ghost without her, a specter of my past, haunted by the memories that continue to amass. I let her slip away, too scared to love for real. Now I’m haunted by her absence and the pain that I conceal.”
I move in for the kiss, reaching for his lips with mine, waiting for the sensation I’ve yearned for all these weeks. But at the last moment, Dex pulls back.
“I can’t do this,” he says. His hands are gentle even as they push me away.
Humiliation swirls inside me. All these people are watching, and he refuses to kiss me? Suddenly, I can’t hold my anger and hurt back any longer.
“Why not?” I snap. “You had no problem before.” I search his gaze until he averts his eyes. I’m still straddling him, his hands on my hips, but he refuses to look at me. Angry tears burn my eyes.
I told myself I wouldn’t cry, didn’t want to give Dex the satisfaction of seeing how badly he hurt me. But I can’t seem to keep them at bay. One streaks down my cheek, probably taking my mascara with it.
“Is it something I did?” My voice is quieter, and it seems to draw Dex’s eyes. He’s looking at me now, watching as another tear streaks down my cheek. “Or am I just a game you don’t want to play anymore? Is that it?”
He opens his mouth, and I hold my breath, waiting to hear his explanation. Maybe he’ll finally tell me what I meant to him. But then he just closes his mouth again, eyes averting once more.
Rage rips through me, and I shove his chest, forcing him back into the pillows.
“You are such an asshole.” Slapping his hands off my hips, I climb out of the bed, silky robe sliding around my bare legs. When I whirl around to face him, he’s sitting up, watching me. “They warned me about you. I knew I shouldn’t get involved. But I was stupid.” More tears are streaking down my cheeks now. “So, so stupid.”
His brow furrows, eyes a strange combination of soft and guarded. “Nora,” he says, and the sound of my name on his tongue does something to me—something it shouldn’t. It reminds me of all the times he said it before, of the shape his mouth made against mine, and suddenly, I can’t look at him anymore, can’t stand to be in his presence.
“Fuck you,” I whisper. “I never want to see you again.”
I whirl and stride from the room, only now noticing the director kept the cameras rolling the whole time. One is aimed directly at my tear-streaked face, but I don’t even care. I just have to get out of here.
