Page 31 of Romance Is Dead

When the set was ready, Teddy and I were given the signal to disrobe.

I averted my gaze, focusing on removing my own clothes in the least awkward way possible.

I wasn’t sure which was going to be more embarrassing: stepping out of my pants to reveal my padded thong or pulling off my shirt to reveal my stickered boobs.

Deciding not to overthink it, I yanked them both off quickly, before reaching up to make sure I hadn’t knocked my wig out of place.

Sensing eyes on me, I finally let myself look in Teddy’s direction.

He was staring, his eyes glazed and mouth slightly ajar, and not at my face.

I wanted to say something, tease him about letting his eyes wander.

But I couldn’t make myself open my mouth — I liked feeling his eyes on me, like he was devouring me with his gaze. Like he was hungry.

“Ready?” Gabby laid a hand on my shoulder and I jumped. Teddy’s eyes snapped away from my body and he turned away, both of our cheeks flushing.

“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “Sure am!”

“Fantastic. Let’s head back into the kitchen.”

Trying to forget the way Teddy had been looking at me, I forced myself into work mode as we approached the table.

Gabby walked us through the choreography, and Teddy and I gave feedback as necessary.

Luckily, since it was such a short scene, it was fairly straightforward.

After our make-out sesh on the counter, the camera would cut to us pounding away on the table for a few moments before it cut away again.

Therefore, the only thing we needed to do was pound away.

“The movements are simple, but we also want to make sure everyone is as comfortable as possible,” Gabby said. “That’s why we have. . .” — she reached into a duffle bag that lay out of view of the cameras — “this little guy.”

She removed her hand from the bag, clutching a half-inflated volleyball. Teddy and I started at it blankly, not comprehending.

Teddy leaned in close to my ear. “Is there a volleyball subplot I forgot about?”

I snickered, but managed to turn it into a cough.

“Look!” Gabby positioned herself near the edge of the table, placing the ball between herself and the wooden edge. “All of the movement, none of the contact.” She pushed her hips against the ball, which had enough give to let her thrust without hitting the hard surface.

“Talk about a subplot,” Teddy whispered.

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. But then Teddy caught my eye, one eyebrow raised, and an ugly snort escaped from my nose. I clapped a hand over my mouth, realizing we were veering dangerously close to being unprofessional.

Thankfully, Gabby didn’t notice.

“Ready?” She clapped her hands together. “Let’s begin!”

Teddy and I tried to get serious, but unfortunately, climbing onto the table and placing the ball between us didn’t help the situation.

We tried one, two, three, then four and five takes, and neither of us could stop laughing.

The sight of Teddy bouncing above me, face scrunched in concentration, as he thrust against a volleyball that was deflating more and more by the second was too much for me to take.

I buried my face into his neck to try to muffle my laughter but failed, and Teddy collapsed on top of me, not even trying to hide his own amusement.

We clutched each other, laughing, as Gabby watched with growing restlessness.

Finally, she clapped her hands, pausing us. “Why don’t we try something different? Let’s scrap the volleyball.” Apparently catching herself, she paused. “If that’s alright with both of you, of course.”

Teddy looked down at me, a serious look on his face. “Quinn, do you consent to removing the volleyball?”

“Yes, Teddy.” I bit my lip, trying my hardest not to laugh, the image of him furiously bouncing against the ball still strong in my mind. “I consent.”

“Great.” He leaned back on his heels and tossed the ball to the side.

“It was rubbing me the wrong way, anyway. Literally.” He looked at me, held my gaze a beat too long, his eyes smoldering.

My giggles died on my lips and I struggled to suss out his meaning.

Was he still just making a joke about the awkwardness of our previous takes?

Or was he, too, thinking about how much closer our bodies would now be, minus one very big barrier?

We got back into position, Gabby hovering nearby as we arranged ourselves and made sure our modesty patches weren’t visible to the camera.

“Here, let’s change the angle.” Gabby gestured for us to move a few inches to the right. “This way, your bodies will look much closer together than they are. Give you a bit more wiggle room, so to speak!” She ran through the movements with us once more now that the ball was out of the picture.

At least, of the volleyball variety.

When Natasha called action, it took us a moment to begin.

I hadn’t realized how much space the floppy piece of sports equipment had been creating between us, and I was a little taken aback by how intimate the shot now felt — Teddy’s muscular legs tucked between my thighs, his chest pressed against my own.

“You ok?” Teddy whispered, his face hovering inches away. He looked different too. Like he was nervous.

I nodded. My eyes dropped to his lips and anticipation fluttered in my stomach, as though we hadn’t just spent the last hour making out on the counter and grinding against the tabletop.

“Good.” He shifted above me, bringing up his arm so he could cradle the side of my face in his palm. “You look super-hot, by the way.”

I breathed a laugh, some of the tension escaping. “You look pretty good yourself.”

Natasha called action, and then we started to move.

Just like he had in the takes before, Teddy gently lowered his mouth to mine to begin the scene.

But this time, it wasn’t Teddy’s character kissing my character.

It was Teddy kissing me, his lips sinking into mine with an urgency that hadn’t been there before.

It was his hand caressing my cheek, his thumb running along my cheekbone, a bit rougher now.

Then it was his hips pressing into mine, hungry, like he was using all his energy to restrain himself.

And now it was me kissing him back, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to pull him closer, like I couldn’t get enough. Like the cameras weren’t there at all.

This time, it wasn’t funny.

Logically, I knew that Natasha was still rolling, and that Gabby was watching us from somewhere nearby.

But everything had become hazy, and the only thing I was paying attention to was Teddy’s mouth, working against mine like a fever, and his hands — one tangled in my hair as the other gripped my hip.

It was enough to tell me that whatever has passed between us on the back porch hadn’t been a fluke. It’d been real. It was real.

Then he started to thrust, his hips snapping toward mine, and an aching heat surged through my body.

Teddy seemed to agree, breaking his mouth away briefly to swear under his breath.

His lower body wasn’t close enough to actually press against me with every thrust, but I could still sense his long, thick hardness just out of reach.

I arched my back, desperate to be closer. Desperate for friction, for relief. But then I pulled back, stopping myself because this wasn’t real, this was all fake, and Natasha was about to call —

“Cut!” She popped up from behind the camera, looking breathlessly pleased. “Wow, that was great. You guys were really — ”

“Excellent! We’re done?” Barely sticking around to hear Natasha confirm it was a wrap, I hopped off the table, grabbed my robe, and hurried off, suddenly desperate to get as far away as I could.