Page 38 of Crocodile Tears
“Yes.”
“What do I do?” Dove eyed the crew as if suddenly realizing they were all there. She held her hands out awkwardly like her sides were made of wet paint.
I chuckled and smoothed my hands down her arms. “Just relax. They won’t bite, unlike your co-workers.”
“There are like twenty people staring at me,” she whispered.
“They're staring at a million other things: the lighting, the juxtaposition of the shot, the costumes,” I assured her. “You think they’re looking at you, but they're actually just doing their jobs.”
“That doesn't comfort me.”
“Here.” I took her by the shoulders and shuffled her over to her mark so that I was standing in front of her, my back to the camera. My broad shoulders obscured her from view. “Just us now.”
She glowered up at me. “For some reason, I don’t feel any better.”
“Have you ever been dipped before?” I asked.
She screwed up her face. “This might surprise you, but I don’t frequent many fairytale balls.”
“It's just this.” I wrapped one hand around her waist, shifted the other up her back to her neck, and dipped her to the side, taking some of her body weight into my arms as I lunged. “Good?”
We stayed there, her leaning back in my hold to meet my eyes. “Does your face have to be so close to my face?”
“Yeah,” I replied with a grin. “We're supposed to be kissing, but we'll film that bit tomorrow when Ivy finally leaves her trailer or her assistant breaks through her barricades.”
“She barricaded herself in?”
“She has a flair for the dramatic.”
“Actors,” Dove muttered as I pivoted us back to a stand.
“Right, when he calls action, I'm going to do that just a little faster, okay?” She nodded and shook her hands out like we were about to start sparring. I winked. “You’ll be great.”
When Gavin called action, I grabbed her and dipped her . . . apparently with more urgency than she was expecting, and Dove let out a little screech as her arms flew out to catch herself.
“Cut!”
“Okay, that was good,” I assured her, trying to drown out the sounds of Gavin bitching behind me. “Just leave your arms at your sides this time, okay?”
“Oh my god, I can't do this,” she whined.
“You're doing great.”
“Liar.”
When Gavin called action again, this time she was prepared. I dipped her without any hand flailing. As we held the position, I tried really,reallyhard not to think about how easy it would be to breach the distance between her mouth and mine.
“Why are we still dipped?” she whispered, her breath hot on my lips.
“Because he hasn't called cut yet,” I whispered back. “I think they're slow zooming in.”
“I'm sorry my breath smells like Flamin’ Hot Cheetos,” she replied, and I laughed. “I would’ve brushed my teeth if I had more warning.”
“Cut!” Gavin barked from behind us, and a chorus of whispered groans sprang out across the set. “It's not working. The head is weird, and the angles are wrong. It's just—” The vein in his forehead bulged. “Can you just kiss her? It'll look better from this angle if you just kiss?—”
“No. It’s unnecessary and I’m not springing that on an actor who hasn’t agreed prior.” I held up a hand, positioning myself farther between Dove and Gavin. “We can do it as many times as we need to get it right, but I’m not going to?—”
“Oh, just kiss me,” Dove cut in, making me choke on my words.
