Page 29 of The Actor: Harrison

“I love it. I don’t think I could live without it.” He looks almost dreamy as he answers.

I think Harrison and I have a lot more in common than I thought, and the realization is scary enough to make me want to run away from his house.

A soft knock at the door startles me.

“Come on in,” I say, looking out the window and barely making out Sienna’s outline. It’s pitch-black, what time is it?

“Thank God, you’re alive. What are you doing here? It’s almost ten.” She looks a bit worried.

I rub a couple of fingers over my eyes and sigh. “Sorry. I lost track of the time.”

“What are you doing?” she asks, coming closer.

“I was going over tomorrow’s scenes. I can’t get this one right.” I point at the script.

She turns her head as though to leave, but then seems to give up and sits next to me. Her long hair is tied up in a messy bun. After yesterday, when she walked out of my pool house with that red bikini, I can’t stop thinking about her glorious curves in my arms. I know we had our disagreements. Okay, maybe disagreements is putting it mildly. We ripped each other’s throats out, but the truth is she’s an intriguing person wrapped up in an unbelievably amazing body. She’s smart, she’s funny when she relaxes a bit, and she has those luscious pouty lips I want to kiss.

“Is it a problem that Viola isn’t here to run lines with you?” she asks.

“No, it’s not like that. I know she has her little girl to take care of.”

“If you want, I can run lines with you. I don’t mind,” she insists.

“Sienna. I’m fine, really,” I reassure her with a smile.

“Doesn’t it bother you that she can’t ever rehearse with you off set because she has to run home?” she flat-out asks.

I know she’s a perfectionist and the fact that Viola can’t be here twenty-four-seven freaks her out. There’s no such a thing as personal life in her vocabulary, and while she doesn’t blame her or make her stay longer, she doesn’t understand how an actress can live like that. It’s a foreign concept for her. She breathes,livesfor her job. I’m the same way, but only when I’m focused on a project. I enjoy my life when I take time off between movies.

I shrug. “No, not really. I’m used to working with different costars and I don’t find it difficult to adapt to different lifestyles. At the end of the day, I’m the single one with a more flexible schedule. She’s a single mother who has to juggle her job with having a five-year-old. I can adapt and help her out.”

She looks at me for a long moment, those dark gorgeous eyes scrutinizing me with an intensity I’m drawn to. She’s one of the most gorgeous women I have ever had the chance to meet and I want to kiss those lips. I really,really, want to. My gaze flickers lower on that pout and it’s difficult for me to divert it. And when they part a bit, I almost give in.

“You’re not what I expected,” she says, dragging me out of my daze.

“What? Rich and spoiled? I am rich. You were right about that.” I grin and wink at her.

She bumps her shoulder against mine. “Spoiled. I thought you were a brat throwing tantrums but you’re not.”

I know what she thought about me and that’s why I wanted to prove her wrong. “Sorry to disappoint.” I laugh.

She is silent for a long moment. “You’re a perfectionist, aren’t you?”

I nod. “I like to plan in advance so I can improvise without feeling weird when I’m on set,” I explain.

She studies me again and I start to squirm in my seat a bit. I’m not used to such scrutiny, not by a director I’m working with, at least.

“Explain. It’s an interesting theory.”

“It’s not rocket science. I have anxiety, so knowing what happens next helps me to be comfortable in my own skin. When I study a scene and feel confident with it, it’s like muscle memory, I can do it without thinking about it. Then I can pay attention to my surroundings, the other actors in the scene with me, pick up some nuances of their performance and adapt to it. I can’t do that if I have to focus on my acting, my lines, how to move in the space I have.”

She nods and seems fascinated by my explanation. It’s who I am: I’m an anxious person dealing with a job that requires me to be under scrutiny every day of my life. It’s stressful; it requires me to pull off high-level performances, but I love it and would never change anything about my life.

“What is it that bothers you about tomorrow?” she finally asks, looking down at the drawing the production assistant made for me.

“The problem is, I haven’t seen the location.”

She frowns but waits for me to clarify.

---