Noah's breath hovered over mine. In the dimly lit room, our hands tangled together. My heart sped up, and I could feel his eyes weighing on me.
"It's okay," Noah reassured me, dipping his head down to mine.
"I know," I replied, lifting my face up into the light. Our knees knocked gently as we drew closer, and then Noah's lips fell onto mine. We kissed.
Noah maneuvered us back until my shoulders touched the lockers behind me, and a shallow breath escaped me.
"Jasmine," a deep voice said to me as Noah and I continued to kiss unperturbed, "Move your hands higher on Noah's back."
I did as he directed, running my hands up higher on Noah's back and imagined that I was kissing him instead.
"Good," Eric voiced, another moment passed, then, "we've got the cut."
Noah and I pulled apart. He smiled at me and flicked me on the nose. "Those mints are good," he said, "I could taste them in your mouth, on the tip of your tongue."
I laughed. "You can have some if you want."
"Do you want to see it?" Eric asked, his piercing blue eyes lifting to look at us.
My gaze immediately met his and I could feel warmth suffusing my cheeks. Jeez, I had it bad.
I blushed, for no apparent reason, as I nodded. Noah rumbled his agreement and we walked over to see what Eric had directed Gerard to film.
I looked at the screen - Noah and I talking quietly in the shadows - and I was jolted into awareness of how others must see me, dark brown hair, olive skin, Asian features.
Noah and I kissed on screen and I felt hot, flushed; getting embarrassed watching Eric analysing our technique.
"This is good guys," Eric commented. "Jasmine, you look a lot less awkward in this shot, have you been practising?"
"Yes..." I had to resist the inclination to call him sir. He was only a couple of years older than me. But he emanated authority, and weirdly, kindness. You couldn't imagine Eric saying a bad word about anyone. Maybe that was why he commanded such respect.
"I think we're done for today," Eric said, dismissing us.
But I couldn't leave, at least, not yet.
I said goodbyes to Noah and Gerard as they collected their stuff and left, then I worried the bottom of my t-shirt.
"Are you okay Jasmine?" Eric asked.
"Yeah, I'm good," I said, before gathering the courage to tell him what was bothering me. "I'm worried about my next scene."
Eric ran a hand through his light brown hair and frowned in thought. "The scene where you cry to camera?"
I nodded. "I don't think I can cry on demand, is there another way to do that?"
Eric hummed, and I could see that he was thinking seriously about what I asked.
"Do you want to sit?" Eric finally asked me. I went to sit in the seat that Gerard had vacated but Eric shook his head, he nodded to where Noah and I had been standing before. In the purview of the camera.
"I'll run the take. I know you can do this."
My heart swelled with pride and I rushed forward to sit in the space Eric had indicated.
"Take off your jacket," Eric instructed, his throaty voice sending shivers down my spine. I pulled my arms out of the jacket.
"Get comfortable."
I felt oddly calm as I threw my jacket aside and sat cross-legged on the floor. I watched Eric change the angle of the camera until it was facing me.
"There," he said with satisfaction, pulling away. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, and with just us here, I revelled in it.
"Are you comfortable?" Eric asked.
I nodded, tucking a loose lock of hair behind my ear. "What do you want me to do?"
"Tell me something you really hate about me."
I was stunned by his statement. He was joking, right?
"What?" I frowned at him, positive that I hadn't heard him right, that sounded kind of fucked up. Was he an emotional masochist?
"Tell me something you really hate about me. Don't be worried, you won't be fired from the project, I promise I won't tell anyone."
"That's a kind of fucked up thing to ask..." I responded instead. "I don't think there is anything I hate about you. I don't know you that well."
Eric waited, and when he could see that I wasn't going to elaborate he stood up. "Hate is better than apathy," he finally said. "I'd actually prefer if you hate something about me. I'd rather that than disdain."
"Still..."
"It's going to be uncomfortable to cry in front of the camera. You're going to feel overexposed. Vulnerable. This is an exercise in pushing your boundaries, dealing with uncomfortable emotions. If you want, I can go first."
I cleared my somewhat dry throat. "Yeah, could you?"
Eric moved out of the shadows to join me on the dimly lit floor, he sat down cross-legged just a touch in front of me. I was hyper-aware of his proximity, I yearned for the feeling of his lips glancing across mine.
"I really hate the way you ask for permission."
I looked back at him in confusion.
"You always sound like you're asking a question - as if you don't have a right to be where you are now. I hate how you don't realise that you were selected for this role for a reason."
"Is this some kind of compliment battle?" I wondered aloud. Then I winced when I realised I'd just confirmed his statement.
Eric chuckled before his expression sobered. "I hate that you dated Patrick. He didn't deserve you. He didn't treat you right. And I hated that you thought that was the best you deserved."
"I don't anymore," I said quietly.
Eric nodded, glancing away. "I hate that you're not upfront about your feelings. I hate it when I feel your eyes on me when you think I'm not looking. I hate that you're my best friend's little sister."
My heart froze in my chest. What did he mean? Could he possibly mean what I thought he did? Or was I reading this all wrong, like always?
"I hate that you're my director," I said. "I hate that you direct me to put my hands all over some other guy. I hate how kind you are to everyone because it means that I can't tell if I'm special, or if you just treat me like every other girl."
"I hate watching you kiss 'some other guy'."
"I hate that you were my brother's friend first."
"I hate directing you to pull another guy closer, to kiss him more, to look more convincing. I hate your influence on my feelings."
"I hate that you're so fucking talented, it makes me wonder how I can ever measure up. If I even deserve to be in your presence."
"I hate that you think you're not worthy of being loved. And I want to love you so bad."
"Bad?" I raised my eyebrows.
"Bad," he said, a knowing smile on his lips. His eyes twinkled mischievously, and my heartbeat increased at the thought of all the sinful things I wanted him to do with me.
I knew exactly what kind of bad he meant.
"I want bad," I whispered.
Eric's eyes flashed to my lips, before meeting mine again. "I want to do wicked things to you, Jasmine," his voice was gruff, deeper.
"I want to stop playing pretend and fantasy. I want something real. I want you."
"Fuck â" Eric stood up abruptly, walking back to where the camera had been pointing at us.
I blinked my eyes at the change in his demeanour, before slowly standing up too. I felt overexposed now. I went to pick up my jacket. But he was striding back toward me.
"Leave it," he growled.
I was so used to him directing me that I did as he said. He nodded to where I was standing before with Noah, the start of this scene. I instinctively moved to where he wanted, wondering why I didn't just leave. If anyone else treatment me this way I would be out of the door. But I was besotted with Eric, and that muddied any rational thought I possessed.
I was putty to his whims.
Eric stepped closer to me. "Am I really what you want?"
"Yes," I answered, resolute in my feelings.
"It's not because you get a kick out of it because I'm your director?"
I looked at him in puzzlement.
He sighed and shook his head. "You have no idea how many women have propositioned me when I've been directing them in something. A lot of people have a kink for getting ordered around."
I could see that, but the origin of my feelings had been much earlier. "That may play a part in it. But I've liked you since last year's Halloween party. Working with you has just solidified my feelings."
He winced sympathetically. Yes, we were both recalling last year's Halloween party; where I had spent most of the party clinging to the toilet, puking my guts out, and he'd been holding my hair back instead of revelling in the party.
I continued talking to get that image out of both of our heads, "I really admire the art you do Eric. Your work is incredible. I have such confidence in your ability and your direction. I know we're making something great and I'm so proud to be a part of it."
"I love the way you're so effortlessly optimistic and friendly to everyone. How you're at ease in your skin, unashamed of your body, and willing to learn from those around you. You're the most responsive person to my direction, and every time I see you on screen, you've improved from your last performance."
"Do you have any pointers for today?" I asked, unable to help myself.
"There was just one thing," Eric said.
"Hmm?" My gaze was focused on the way our bodies kind of swayed together. I loved watching the shadow of his jaw, and the way his mouth formed words. The way he spoke was so sexy.
"When I imagined this scene, I always envisioned you kissing me."
My breath stalled in my throat.
"Yes," I said, somewhat stupidly as it wasn't a question. I was just ready for whatever he was going to suggest.
Eric smiled again. "If you were the director, how would you envision the scene? What do you think this scene needs?"
"Definitely you," I said earnestly.
I stepped back until my back hit the lockers that Noah had pushed me up against earlier. Eric's eyes trailed over my body. I felt a rush that I commanded his attention, that his desire for me was so blatantly on display.
"Step closer," I directed him.
He took a step closer. And I smiled at what he was giving me, the hedonistic power that he had assumed over me for the duration of our project.
"Until we're sharing body heat," I told him.
He moved closer until we were a breath apart and he was before me, standing between my legs.
"Your hands land on my waist and pull me closer."
My breath quickened as he did just that.
My hands naturally rested on his chest, feeling him press into me. This was heaven.
"I want to know what you want," I said breathlessly.
Eric smiled before his head bent to meet mine, his breath fanning across my lips.
"I think you know what I want," he murmured. "I want you so bad."
His hand cradled my jaw as his lips brushed mine softly. In question.
In answer.
My heart shuddered in my chest, and it felt like life blossomed under my fingertips. He drew away, almost reticent, and a pregnant pause filled the air between us before we both attacked each other with renewed vigour.
His lips caressed mine, and our mouths worked in tandem, teasing, turning on.
I never imagined making out could be this perfect. I never thought that I would ever feel this level of attraction to someone.
But I did to him.
And he evidently did to me by the way he ground his hips into mine, startling a gasp out of my mouth and a thrill to surge through my body.
After some time, Eric drew back. Both his hands cradled my face, and he gently brushed the hair out of my eyes. "That was fucking amazing," he whispered.
I tilted my chin up to look him directly in the eye. I smiled. "I know."