I’m reading some scripts my agent has sent over. The thought of doing another project is really exciting. It helps me remember that August is a moment—a big one—but a moment. There are plenty of other characters to play. There is a script about a mean girl who gets pregnant, one about a mermaid based on another bestselling book series, and then a period piece where I’d play the daughter of the male lead. It shoots in Seattle, so I’d be close to home, which I have mixed feelings about. I’m almost through it, and the script is pretty brilliant.
I set the pages down next to me and stifle a yawn. It’s chilly outside, cooler at night than it was when we first got here, and I tuck my feet under me, readjusting myself on the lanai chair. If I close my eyes, I’m back in Portland in the winter. I imagine Cassandra and me trekking through the pouring rain to the Saturday Market, our umbrellas up, feet sloshing. Or drinking hot chocolate at Jake’s, his mom rolling her eyes at me as Jake lectures us about the ramifications of cane sugar burning or the ill effects of some bacterial strain spread by seagulls.
Cassandra. Jake. They flash like photo negatives.
Something is happening out here, something I didn’t expect. I’m forgetting who I was. It’s becoming normal to be on a film set, to hang around with the crew, to have someone else cook all my meals and have my favorite snacks show up in my refrigerator without a Post-it or follow-up with Mom. I don’t think twice about the fact that my hair and makeup are always done or that my inboxes—e-mail and voice mail—are constantly being clogged by handlers. I have a million messages from my agent about everything under the sun. I thought acting was just about acting, but I was wrong. There is so much more to all this—so many ins and outs I feel like I’ll never learn.
I can’t shake what Jordan said this morning, about keeping some things private. But I have no idea what in my life to keep hidden. What in my life is sacred? I thought my friendships were, but I haven’t spoken to Cassandra or Jake since they left. And my family doesn’t even understand what I’m doing, what my new life is. Perhaps my dream, this movie, is sacred. But isn’t it also the very thing that has made me someone people are going to want to pull apart? And how do I know if Rainer is sacred when all I can hear is everyone’s voices in my head, weighing in on us?
“Knock, knock.”
I look up to see Rainer leaning into the lanai doorway, his aloha shirt blowing in the night breeze, a plumeria tucked behind his ear. The interruption makes me jump. It’s freaky that he has appeared just as I’m thinking about him, and after this morning’s near death I’m also feeling a little off. “Is that your idea of knocking?” I ask.
He nods slowly. “Yes.”
“How did you get in my door, anyway?”
He smiles. “I wanted to see you.”
My heartbeat speeds up. “Doesn’t answer the question.”
He walks toward me and takes a seat in the chair next to mine. “I have some friends in high places. Specifically the front desk.”
I laugh. “So now you’re flirting with the receptionist?”
“All in your name, PG,” he says.
I won’t tell Rainer about this morning. I’m not sure why except I know it has to do with Jordan. I just know Rainer wouldn’t like us sharing something. Even if that something is mostly me not dying. Talking about Jordan seems loaded, too loaded for tonight.
“How was your day?” Rainer asks.
I loop my arms around my legs and tuck my head down on my knees. “Fine,” I say.
“Why are you hiding then?”
“Not hiding,” I say, turning my head to the side. “Just tired.”
Rainer and Jordan had off today. We had to film some scenes where August is alone on the island. It was just me and Wyatt and the crew, and I can barely keep my eyes open right now.
“Come here,” Rainer says. He puts an arm around me, and I feel myself being lifted out of my chair and into him, into his arms. It feels so good to be here. Some of the tension of today begins to drain out of me.
He settles me in his lap, pulls back, and puts a hand on my cheek. Then he leans in close, and I half expect him to kiss me, but instead he plucks the flower from behind his ear. He holds it out to me.
“For you.”
“Thanks.” I take it and run the stem between my thumb and forefinger. I put the petals up to my nose and inhale. It’s sweet and spicy, like real vanilla.
“What’s going on?” I ask him slowly, carefully, my eyes trained on the plumeria petals.
He shrugs. “I watched some TV today, grabbed a sandwich. It was nice to have some time off.” I feel his hands on my back, traveling up my spine. I suppress a shiver.
I set the flower down. “That’s not what I mean,” I say.
He cocks his head. “What are you referring to, then?” His voice is light, singsongy. Flirtatious.
I knock him lightly on the shoulder. “Us.”
The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. “Us?”
I feel ridiculous. I’m sitting in his lap and his hands are on me, and I still don’t even know what that means. “Yeah. Um, you kissed me.”
“I’m aware of that,” he says, still half-smiling at me. “Why do you think I’m here?”
The soft fluttering in my chest turns into full-on eagle-flapping wings.
He leans closer to me, but this time he doesn’t hand me a flower and he doesn’t pull back. “I’m here because you’re smart.” He leans closer. I can feel his eyelashes brush my cheek. “And funny.” Closer. His nose grazes my jaw. “And beautiful.” He hovers right above my lips. “And I really like kissing you.”
My pulse is racing. It feels like it might run away from me. “Okay, but…”
“What else?” he whispers.
I inhale, try to keep my voice level. It feels like I have to struggle to get each word out. “What do you want?”
He sighs and places one of his hands on my knee, on top of my hand. It’s soft and warm. “I thought that was pretty obvious,” he says, threading his thumb through mine. “I want you.”
“Rainer…”
He lifts my hand and puts it in his, right up against his heart. I feel it beat—strong and steady. “Just relax,” he says.
I suck my bottom lip in. “Okay,” I say.
“Good.” He takes both his hands and grabs the sides of my face, and then he’s pulling me toward him. He kisses my nose, and then my forehead, and then right over the creases of my eyes. When he pulls back, he is breathing hard. “You’re so gorgeous,” he says.
“You’re kidding.” I exhale.
“I’m not.” He kisses the side of my neck, right below my ear. It’s getting almost impossible to think clearly.
“Why me?” I ask. I clear my throat. I push him back. I think about what Jordan said, about how he dates actresses because he likes being in the spotlight. But how could that be true? I’m nobody yet. “Besides the obvious point that I’m the only girl you know on this island.”
“Not true,” he says. He threads his fingers through mine. I look down at them. “You forget about the receptionist.”
“And Jessica,” I say, keeping my gaze down.
Rainer nods. “And Jessica.”
“So?” I untangle our hands and rest mine in my lap. I have to hold them together to keep from sticking my fingernail between my teeth right now and biting.
“Why you?” Rainer asks. “That’s what you want to know?”
“Yes.” I pick my gaze up to meet his.
He shakes his head like I’m the one who’s missed the point. “That, right there,” he says. “You have no idea how people see you. You’re incredible.”
Then he kisses me. For real this time, right on the mouth. I want to say something, but it gets caught up in our kiss. Tangled in his hair and fingertips and the strong beat of his heart. You’re incredible. With his mouth moving against mine, his hands on my waist, they seem like the only words that matter. The way he sees me. The way he feels about me.
His hands are everywhere—my back, my waist. He presses me against him. I reach forward and knead my hands into his shoulders, feeling the muscle there. I feel him sigh into my mouth, but he doesn’t break our lips apart. He keeps kissing me, and slowly I start to feel it, too. That maybe he’s right.