Page 75 of Take It Till You Make It
His gaze locks on mine. It’s intense and heated. “You know it.”
As he leaves, I keep my expression even, though the passion behind his eyes kick-started a furnace inside me. When he disappears from the room, I meet Remi’s gaze in the mirror. “I’ve never been looked at like that before.”
Her smile is full of the devil himself. “That boy is definitely hot for you, little one.”
“He’s not a boy.”
Remi shrugs a single shoulder.
“That’s what I don’t understand. You are literally making me up to look like a thirteen-year-old. How can he find me hot when he sees me like that more than in my usual state of…well, nothingness, I guess.” I growl. “There’s like nothing to me. I have no figure. I’m super plain-looking. That’s why it’s always been so easy for me to dress in character for my videos – my features barely exist, so it’s easy to disguise them.”
Remi stops what she’s doing and places her hands on my shoulders, staring at me with a look that is both confused and sad. “Have you talked to your mother about this?”
I fight the urge to shut the conversation down now that it has turned to my mom. Remi seems to really care, and I need to talk to someone. “She’s been…since we lost Dad, she’s been going through it.”
Remi squeezes my shoulders before letting go and purposefully getting back to work. She must recognize that Mom is an off-limits topic. “You have an immature view of yourself.”
I frown, holding my neck straight as she rolls the round brush through my hair. We have to talk louder over the sound of the hairdryer, and I realize any one of the secondary actors and extras in the chairs around me could be listening. But I’m too curious to know what Remi has to say to stop now. “What does that mean?”
“You still see yourself as a young girl. It’s probably why you can portray a thirteen-year-old so convincingly.”
I blow air through my lips. “It’s the lack of height and the pre-pubescent body that does that.”
Remi shakes her head. “There are plenty of twelve and thirteen-year-old girls with boobs and hips, little one. But you still embody that age. Therefore, you don’t see yourself accurately. You don’t recognize your womanly body, your mature features.” She runs a finger along my cheekbone before curling the brush under another hank of hair and blasting it with the dryer. “You don’t see what I see. What I have to erase and remake each day so that you don’t look too old. You don’t see what that boy sees.”
“I thought I was figuring it out, but today I’m back to square one again.” My gaze hops between her and the cheekbone she pointed out. Because suddenly I’m realizing that it’s more pronounced than I’ve ever noticed.
We’re shooting the funeral scene today, so Remi is leaving my hair down and making me look like a clean thirteen-year-old who took the time to comb her hair. But since I don’t have makeup on yet, it’s just me looking like me. And she’s absolutely right. I’ve been seeing that middle school-aged me in the mirror and in my mind. I’ve never noticed the changes my body has gone through. Maybe because my body hasn’t changed all that much, but also, it has. My shoulders are strong and square, not thin and concave like they used to be. I might not have much of a waist, but it’s definitely more defined than it used to be, which means I do have some semblance of a curve to my hips. I lean forward to stare at myself because I’m only just realizing that all my facial features are angled. I turn my face to see my profile and then angle it to see the other side. My chin juts in a rather alluring way, and the plane of skin from my cheekbone to my jaw is flat and smooth. When did I lose my baby fat?
Remi waits for me to finish my examination, holding the brush in one hand and the still-blowing dryer in the other.
I sit back. “Huh.”
She chuckles and continues with my hair. “How are you feeling about today?”
I shrug. “It won’t be as hard as that scene with the police officer. We didn’t have a traditional funeral for my dad, so there are no memories to associate with it. But I suspect any emotion I portray will be genuine.” I shrug. “I can’t get out of this one. It would be weird for me not to be in this scene.”
“I’ll be there. You send up the bat signal if you need me to interfere for you.”
I grin. “Thank you, Remi. I’m so thankful I have you on my side.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I don’t blameHank for his trepidation as he eyes me waiting for the scene to start. I smile at him and give him a thumbs up, but he doesn’t appear convinced I’m ready to shoot this scene.
Sally and I stand at the “graveside” as we wait for things to get going. It isn’t really a grave. It’s a green screen where they will add a hole later. There is a coffin sitting over the green screen, though, and the set is made up to look like a cemetery. It’s the same set we shoot all our outdoor scenes, and it never ceases to amaze me that they can transform the same space so effectively into completely different places.
“I love your shoes. I totally had shoes like that in middle school,” Sally says.
“I did too. I love that they’re still in style.” I lift a foot and admire the Mary Janes with the chunky heel. “I’m really digging my whole outfit. I think I feel more my character’s age in these baggy tights and too-big dress than I’ve felt the entire time. Even though Grimilda is an excellent wardrobe mistress, she just knocked it out of the park this time. I admire Sally’s outfit. “You look really pretty.”
She smooths a hand down her black dress and whispers, “I’ve never been to a funeral.”
“I haven’t either.”
Her surprised gaze snaps up to me. “But…”
“We had a wake for my dad. It’s very different. It’s like a party. I think the entire town showed up. It was exhausting, but it seemed to do everyone else some good.”
