Chapter 8: Day One

Day one started at six in the morning in front of Captain's blue house.

Captain's house was the girl's house now.

His lemon tree was her lemon tree. His porch was where the surfer would stand in episode one and ask if she needed a ride.

Mom had turned her salon station into a makeup table on the porch.

"Hold still," she said, with a curling iron an inch from my ear.

"I am holding still."

"You're vibrating. You've been vibrating since you were four."

Izzy was on the lawn setting up the camera.

Eleven crew in Zeller Shorts T-shirts they'd turned inside out, so the logo didn't show.

Plus one new face. Our riggers had told Izzy they needed a third hand for the pier stunt, and her group chat had found a grip with his own truck.

He was quiet and fast. He'd already hung lights in the costume trailer, an old camper Mom's client had lent us, parked behind the salon.

Lennon came around the corner of the house in the surfer's board shorts and a faded T-shirt, with his red hair wet.

The crew went quiet.

They'd heard him in the garage. They'd heard about the app's office.

They hadn't heard him act.

"Places," I said.

My voice cracked on it. Mom squeezed my shoulder.

"Episode one," Izzy called. "Rolling. Action."

Lennon leaned on the porch post.

"Bus doesn't come on Sundays," he said. "You know that, right?"

"I know that," I said.

"So you're just standing here."

"I'm just standing here."

"Want a ride, or want to keep standing?"

It was a dumb little line. I'd written it in ten seconds.

The way he said it, like it cost him something to ask, made it a better line than it was.

He did the whole episode, every word, in one take.

When Izzy called cut, the gaffer started clapping.

Keep reading free with an account. Start Kissing Me Harder, Stepbrother from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.