Page 57 of Steamy on Set

Errol finally moves his hand from my back, using it to grip on to the new beer placed in front of him. I feel shaky without it.

“When I got my first studio film, he went crazy. He just kept telling me how unfair it was and that it wasn’t right. I broke then, and finally stood up for myself. It felt good to finally say that I deserved what was happening to me. That night he packed up and moved out.” He lowers his head, staring down at the ground.

I reach out and lift his chin up, forcing him to look into my eyes.

“You do deserve what has happened to you. You are talented, driven, and unique. You have earned everything you’ve got.” I speak the words, hoping they implant in him. Hoping they sink into whatever places that guy chipped away at and make him whole again. The shadows of this disbelief have followed him to this day. It lurks in every insecurity he has expressed to me, and outlines all the work he puts in.

His ex told him he wasn’t worth this, and some part of him still believes that. I want that part to go away.

“I mean it. You are amazing, Errol, and if anything, Hollywood should have noticed sooner.”

He smiles as he looks back at me, lips pulled wide. I smile back, wanting him to see that I believe what I’m saying.

He takes my hand from his chin and intertwines his fingers with mine, before placing them on the bar.

“Is it me or is cold in here? Must be from Hell freezing over with your compliment.”

I throw my head back and laugh. He does, too, at the sight of my amused response.

“Well fine, let me rephrase. You alright, I guess,” I tease.

He lets go of my hand to point at his chest an eyebrow raised in my direction.

“Me, just alright? I think not.”

“I mean, all in all, I’m not impressed.” I make an exaggerated eye roll.

He is laughing again, loud and raucous, taking over the space around us.

“Sure ma’am.” He smirks that cocky little smile he has been giving me since day one.

I gape at him.

“Did you justma’amme?”

He nods, biting his bottom lip to try and stop himself from smiling.

“I just turned thirty. I’m not a ma’am yet.”

He nods again, and I slap my hand down onto his leg. He lays his hand on top of mine, keeping it there as his stare turns heavy. The feel of it sweeps up and down my body while he squeezes my hand tighter. I pull it back and put it on my own lap, clearing my throat.

“So is this relationship why you’re a fuck-boy now?” Sweeping my straightened hair over my shoulder, I turn to look at him again.

“Who says I’m a fuck-boy?” He has the nerve to look offended, lips pursed and face crunched as he questions my statement.

“Well, let’s see: since starting on this movie, you have been seen with Erica, the guy from the pool party, and Piper, and those are just the ones I know about.” I tick a finger up with every name, showing him the grand total. He puts down my fingers until only one is left standing.

“That is how many of them I have actually slept with. The rest were just dates.” He looks proud of himself, his face ready to burst with delight at that clarification.

“Still a fuck-boy,” I deadpan.

“How?” he exclaims, pushing his hands out in front of him.

“How long has it been since you and your ex broke up?”

He tilts his head, calculating the timeline.

“Two years.”

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