Page 42 of Romance Is Dead

“Everyone else, stay in your places. That means you.” Natasha gestured at Teddy and me. “Brent, come here.”

I groaned as Natasha dragged Brent off to the side to regroup. It would have been a great opportunity to dry off, warm up, and clear my head of any thoughts of Teddy’s body. My toes were numb and my shivers were rapidly progressing to shakes. My teeth chattered.

“Are you ok?” Teddy’s eyebrows were creased with concern.

“Just. . . c–cold.” I tried to keep my teeth from clanking together, but they rattled violently.

He hitched an eyebrow. “Your lips are turning blue.”

“I’ll be alright. This won’t take m–much longer.” But even as I said the words, I could see Natasha hunching down as she demonstrated something with her hands to Brent, the two of them deep in conversation and giving no hint they were almost done.

“Seriously. Come here.” With one hand still gripping the dock, he reached out his other arm, inviting me closer.

I bit my lip. Any other time, I would have refused—my pride generally didn’t let me accept help from anyone. But it really did feel like I was about ten seconds from hypothermia, and what was the point in starring in one more movie if it meant I ended up frozen at the bottom of a lake?

“Alright,” I conceded, letting go of the deck and pushing myself through the water.

I slid through the water and he caught me easily, scooping an arm around my waist and pulling me close until I was notched neatly against his hip. Warmth immediately spread from his chest to mine, and my arms slipped instinctually around his waist as I huddled closer, my fingers brushing wet, smooth skin. He tightened his grip, making sure I was secure and supported.

“Better?” He looked down at me, the ever-present stubborn lock of hair damp and drooping over his forehead, sexy and endearing at the same time.

“Yes,” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat. I started to slip and he hoisted me up, hitching me higher until my legs were wrapped around his waist.

“Is this ok?” He swallowed, adjusting his grip on my thigh. I could feel his heart pounding, our chests pressed together. My own was galloping behind my ribcage, and I was sure he could feel it, too.

I nodded, my gaze sliding down to his lips. They had a natural pout to them, his bottom lip slightly puffy. I imagined what it would be like to press my own lips to them, run the tip of my tongue along them, perhaps give them a nibble. I imagined what they would feel like against me: against my lips, my breasts, my—

Natasha barged back on set. “Alright, back to first marks, people!”

The words hit me like a jolt. I pulled away and Teddy released me, his hands returning to the dock as I slid back to my own spot. I quickly dunked my head under the water as I went, hoping the chill would clear my thoughts and chase away any lingering, lusty feelings.

“We’re moving on,” Natasha announced. “We’re picking up with scene twenty-seven.”

I raised my eyebrows. It was unusual for Natasha to drop a scene once we started filming—Brent must be in really bad shape. I craned my neck, looking for him. But he hadn’t come back into the boathouse. Natasha must have decided to film the shot of Brent’s severed head flying out of the water while he regrouped.

“Do we need to stay in here?” Teddy whispered, stealing a glance at Natasha, who was staring intensely at the camera. She also looked intensely angry.

“I’m not risking it. I don’t want Natasha chopping off my head to replace the fake one.” As cold as I was, I drifted slightly away from Teddy, not trusting myself to get too close to him again.

Setting up the shot went quickly. A crew member climbed onto the boat and Natasha moved her camera so she’d have just the right angle to film the head coming out of the water. One poor PA was on standby, tasked with the job of going underwater and launching the head into the air. They treaded water nearby, looking frigid. I gave them a sad thumbs up.

Once the camera was rolling, Natasha gave the signal and the PA ducked under the surface of the lake. A moment later, the crew member climbed onto the boat, which was still tethered to the dock. They would make sure the engine turned on but the propeller remained off, both to preserve the safety of the PA in the water and to keep the boat stationary.

This was not what happened.

As soon as it was turned on, the boat lurched forward with a loud rev of the engine. Natasha froze above us as the rope securing the boat to the dock strained and pulled taut.

“Stop! Turn it off!” Natasha hollered.

But the crew member on the boat was still fighting for his balance after the unexpected motion. His arms windmilled as he grappled for something, anything, to hold onto. The engine whined as it surged forward, fighting against its tether. But while the rope held fast, the dock didn’t. The pole snapped in half as the boat, finally free, jetted out of the structure and onto the lake, dragging the splintered wood behind it.

Above us, the dock groaned. Before I could register what was happening, Teddy pushed first me and then the PA out of the way. A wave swept over us as the dock sagged into the water where we had been mere moments ago, tipping Natasha and her camera into the water. Natasha popped up a moment later, but her camera did not.

“What the fuck was that?” she sputtered as we all climbed out of the water.

“I don’t know.” I looked down—a towel had manifested around my shoulders. Next to me, Teddy was draping the PA in an identical one.

“What the fuck happened?” she repeated, this time directing it at the crew member, who had finally succeeded in getting the boat under control and was guiding it back. After resecuring it to a stable part of the dock, he came over to join us.

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