Page 19 of Romance Is Dead

“Alright, I will.” In one swift motion, Teddy jumped up and canonballed himself into the lake, spraying frigid water all over my very exposed skin.

I yelped. “Damn it, Teddy.”

“You said prove it.” He shook his head to get the sopping-wet hair out of his eyes. “It’s kind of nice actually.”

I rolled my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I eased my body into the dark lake, clinging to the deck to keep my shoulders out of the water. The icy cold bit at my skin, taking my breath away. I treaded water furiously, trying to warm up.

Natasha filed in, taking her spot behind the camera as she started to check its settings.

The prop head, which Teddy and I were already familiar with, thanks to our spying, waited on its own chair off camera.

Scott sat nearby, likely guarding it from careless cast or crew members.

I smiled and gave him a wave; he grudgingly raised a hand a few inches from where it rested on his knee.

“Alright, folks.” Natasha stood and clapped her hands once, loudly. “We’re ready to go.”

At the top of the scene, my character and Teddy’s have just finished hooking up on the boat when the spirit of the witch appears. We’re able to jump into the water and hide under the dock as Brent’s and Chloe’s characters rush in, too late to warn us.

The scene took just a few takes. The cameras and lighting were reset, and Teddy and I resumed our places under the dock so we’d still be visible in the background for the rest of the scene.

I was thankful our parts had been quick, but it also meant that for the rest of the shoot, we would be hiding under the dock looking scared.

Scared and naked. Scared and naked and wet and clinging to each other.

Next, the script called for a confrontation between Brent’s and Chloe’s characters and Audrey as the witch.

Chloe escapes, using her cheerleading skills to jump and somersault out of the way, but poor Brent’s character meets his gory, spectacular end when his head meets the business end of the boat propeller — switched on magically by the witch, of course.

Huddled in the water, I was happy to have a front-row seat to the rest of the scene.

Brent might not always bring professionalism to set, but one thing he took very seriously was his character’s death scenes, striking the perfect balance between camp and realism.

Usually. He had come dangerously close to overdoing it in the one where a crocodile devoured him, starting at his feet.

Just before the croc got to his head, Brent had kissed the beast goodbye on the nose.

How his character would have accomplished this with no blood pressure remained a mystery.

The take started smoothly. Chloe and Brent burst in, yelling for us loudly as they struggled to see in the dim light.

Audrey appeared at the precise moment she was supposed to, and Chloe screamed at just the right annoyingly high pitch.

Then, Brent’s character was supposed to duck as a spell was cast his way.

Supposed to.

The first time he missed his cue, we figured it was a fluke.

But then he missed it again. . . and again.

. . and then a third time. His eyes looked unfocused and he wavered slightly as he waited between takes.

I squinted at him as he blew take after take.

Was he on drugs? It wasn’t unusual for him to show up a little high, but this seemed a bit much, even for him.

Teddy leaned closer to me, his chest brushing against my shoulder. “Is this what it was like watching me on the first day?”

I muffled my laugh with my hand. “Kind of.”

“At least we weren’t operating in subzero temperatures that day.”

“Subzero? That’s dramatic.”

“Let’s just say I’m glad no one can see me from the waist down right about now.”

My cheeks warmed at the implication and the image that quickly formed in my mind. Thankfully, my train of thought was broken by the thudding of footsteps as Natasha emerged from behind the camera.

“Cut! Cut, cut, cut.” Natasha tugged at her hair as she approached the dock, quietly fuming as she walked toward Brent.

“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.

“The damnedest thing,” he muttered. “Who the hell would do that?” He was talking to himself, still in shock.

“Who did what?” Natasha snarled. “That was thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment!”

The crew member looked back to the boat, as though convincing himself this was really happening. “There was a brick on the foot throttle.” He shook his head. “Someone had to have put it there.”

My blood chilled. Someone had sabotaged the boat — someone who had likely known Teddy and I would be huddled underneath the dock when the boat yanked away one of its supports.

“Fuck.” Natasha kicked a nearby duffle bag. “There’s another shoot we’ll be behind schedule with.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Teddy muttered. He wrapped an arm around my waist, starting to steer me away from the boathouse. “It’s not safe.”

“We should at least look around, see if there are any clues.” I twisted, looking back toward the water. “There might be something on the boat.”

“No.” Teddy’s voice was firm. “We’re going.”

Before I could protest any further, he was pushing me toward the parking lot, a hand firm on my lower back.