He took the punch, rolling his head to the side as Chris’s knuckles smashed into his jaw.
“Fuck.” Chris staggered to the side, shaking his hand as he opened and closed his fingers. “That hurts.”
“Chris.” Rowan’s murmur echoed through the silent dormitory like a shout. “You are overreacting. It was more than sex on a…a bike.” Her cheeks turned pink.
“You’re blushing?” Chris said, his obvious shock piquing Aslin’s interest. “Jesus, sis, you never blush. Ever.” The actor turned to Aslin, his stare intense, contemplative, before he pinned Rowan with a narrow-eyed look. “Is it serious?”
“I…” Rowan began, her cheeks—Aslin was delighted to see—growing pinker.
“As far as I’m concerned it is,” he said, letting his intent fill each word.
“It doesn’t matter if it is or not, Chris.” Rowan flicked Aslin an ambiguous frown. “You can’t just go around punching people because—”
“They kiss my sister?” Chris interrupted. “I can if they’re just trying to get in your pants. But if they’re serious…” He let the rest of the sentence go unfinished, grinning at Aslin.
“Oh, Chris.” Rowan shook her head. “Really? This is you being a protective brother, is it?”
Chris’s lips twitched. “Yeah, it is. Aren’t you lucky? Now shut up and stop bothering me. I got a scene to film. You can kiss your boyfriend better when we’re done.”
“He’s not my—”
But whatever Rowan was going to say, the surrounding onlookers seemed to believe the show was all over. Like that, noise returned to the set. As if someone flicked a switch, all the activity Aslin had noted since first stepping foot on Dead Even’s set yesterday—people shouting commands, sound equipment being moved, hammers whacking nails, trolleys and cameras being pushed from one spot to the next—instantly erupted into a cacophony of organized chaos again.
From out of nowhere, Nigel appeared at Chris’s side, as did a pink-haired woman who began brushing the actor’s face with a large make-up brush, another woman who attacked his hair with goop-covered fingers, and a man who hovered about holding out a small black device Aslin recognised as a light metre.
Aslin looked at everyone, unable to keep the bewilderment from his face. It was all so weird. So surreal. By the time Nigel had finished telling Chris what he wanted him to do, the actor looked like he’d been through hell and back, his hair a disheveled mess, his face smudged with what Aslin assumed was meant to be dirt and sweat.
“Okay, Chris.” Nigel took a step back. “Are you ready?”
Chris’s gaze found Aslin. A tension flickered in his eyes, and Aslin knew what had started with a punch to the jaw wasn’t finished yet. But, with one final adjustment to his hair by the woman with the goop-slicked fingers, the actor rolled his shoulders and neck and then gave the director a sharp nod. “Ready.”
“Ready, Vin?” Nigel called over his shoulder, hurrying back to a stool as the film’s bad guy ambled into the stark white glare of the trolley lights.
Aslin took his own step backward, dodging a rapidly moving camera operator as he sought a place out of the road. He stopped at the chair marked with Chris’s name, folding his arms across his chest just as Nigel raised a megaphone to his mouth and yelled, “Action.”
It was the subtle kiss of her heat on his body that told him Rowan stood beside him. Her heat, the delicate scent of her perfume… He stiffened, wanting like hell to turn to her. To smooth his hands over her face, cup her jaw and kiss her. To say sorry for what had taken place. Instead, he stood still and watched her brother beat the shit out of Vin Diesel as a traitorous CIA agent, surrounded by hammocks the film’s props department had created to replicate the historical ones normally hanging in the convict dormitory.
Nigel called cut often, each time asking Aslin to comment on the scene’s action, more than once getting him to check what was captured on playback. Every time he did, Aslin would step away from Rowan, leaving her sitting in Chris’s chair. Every time he turned back to her, his advice on the fight sequence given, he would find her smiling at him.
It was a wholly wonderful experience, made all the more special by the fact he was enjoying every second. Telling Nigel how the fight would unfold, having Chris and Vin ask questions and listen to his answer, watching the actors take it all in and put it into play…it was rejuvenating. Exhilarating. Hell, he’d go so far as to say addictive.
Three hours later, when Nigel called an end to the scene, Aslin was surprised to discover he was disappointed.