It doesn’t really matter how many times I tell myself to calm down, the adrenaline keeps surging through me. I don’t know how many times I circled the small set before I finally left. Vancouver is a beautiful city, but I don’t see any of it. All I see is him.

I ignore the texts from my PA, grab a tea to go from a little shop I’ll never be able to find again. I keep walking. Keep trying to think about anything else.

Keep thinking about nothing but him.

Tanner as Bobby. Me as Grace. My feelings in her words, her words in my mouth. It was just acting, just a tough scene I tell myself. Just transference. It meant nothing.

       So then why am I still walking?

       My body tells me the answer before my brain allows me to think the truth: that kiss wasn’t acting.

It was more powerful than the first-scene kiss we shot. It was full of anger and passion. And maybe a little relief? We finally yelled and screamed some of the things we’ve both been holding onto for years. Scripted or not, it felt good. Maybe we should have talked earlier, when he’d first contacted Carrie after I signed on. It would have been awfully nice to have gotten that rage off my chest without an audience.

On the other hand, the scene was absolute perfection.

In more than one way, I think, as I absently brush a finger over my lips.

I can still feel Tanner’s kiss on them. It was like we were back in that pool where we first met, introducing ourselves and kissing for the first time all over again. He felt the same. He tasted the same. And instead of pushing him away, instead of being Grace, I’d kissed him back. He felt it, too, I’m sure of it.

And that makes everything so much worse.

How was I so turned on after he grabbed me and pressed his lips against mine? Why does he still have that power over me all these years later?

I’m confused and angry with myself. This was not supposed to happen. At least when we shot the on-screen kiss in the restaurant, I’d known it was coming. I thought I had more time, but I’d still been ready for it. This time, I was caught completely off guard.

It wasn’t scripted, and it wasn’t expected. Here I thought he was just being an asshole, but apparently he was feeling something else entirely. Although I’m not sure what. Was he truly moved by my obvious heartache, or did he simply feel that the scene was missing something? Does he have feelings for me or was that just a choice as an actor?

And if the kiss was for me, not for my character, what does that mean?

Did the fight turn him on, or is he also feeling this weird mix-up of past and present? I need answers, but I am not about to go get them from the source. The thought of even being near Tanner right now is making my body buzz all over, in more ways than one.

In the meantime, a big glass of wine and a long chat with Walter will get me through until tomorrow. We’ll come up with a plan. If nothing else, I’ll feel better for talking it out instead of looping it in my head the same way I’ve been looping around these streets. A quick glance at the map on my phone reveals that I’ve wandered back toward the set, so I decide to stop by my trailer and grab tomorrow’s script before heading back to the hotel.

I peer around cautiously before crossing the parking lot to my trailer. I am not in the mood to see anyone from production, but hopefully they’re long gone by now. In particular, I can’t stomach the idea of Angela lying in wait for me like a vulture, ready to snatch the news of our unscripted kiss like a delicious tidbit.

Once I see that the coast is clear, I bolt across the asphalt and throw upon the door.

Then I scream bloody murder.

“Shit! Sorry! Hi...” Tanner says, frantically trying to calm me down. “Just shush a second, will you?”

I take a long inhale in, not entirely certain I’m done screaming.

“Thank you,” he says, and his sincerity halts me from making any further noise for the time being. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I was just afraid you wouldn’t talk to me any other way.”

“Correct assumption,” I say, placing my hand over my still-pounding heart and trying to catch my breath. “Because I don’t want to talk to you off camera. I want to maintain professional distance. I explained this on the first day.” I’m terse, but how can I not be? He’s in my freaking trailer! After the set has closed down. After we kissed!

For some reason, the realization that we’re alone only makes my heart beat faster.

“You’re right,” he says, earnestly. “I’m only here to apologize. Jenna, I’m sorry about what happened back there.”

I’m too stunned to speak, which turns out to be a good thing because Tanner continues with even more apologies.

“I shouldn’t have done that back there. Kissed you. It was unprofessional and inappropriate. Please forgive me.”

“Hiding in my trailer absolutely falls into the unprofessional and inappropriate category, Tanner,” I snip, lashing out against the feeling in my chest that’s squeezing my heart. The feeling that despite all my big talk about professionalism, what I really want is be lost in his arms, just one more time.

“I know. But your PA couldn’t get ahold of you. And I got worried.”

I force myself to look Tanner in the face. He looks like a guilty puppy dog – big eyes, head hung low. I did ignore a lot of texts. And regardless of how messed up the situation is between us, it was sort of nice that he wanted to make sure I got here okay.

And I want to be reasonable. Even if my insides are all wrecked from the past, we still have a present to work through together. Maybe if I raise the white flag we’ll actually get through this thing in one piece.

I sit down next to Tanner, just to let him know I’m not planning on shoving him straight out of my trailer anymore. And then I dig deep and play nice. “Obviously our bodies have some sort of muscle memory. We’re just reacting to that. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughs. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

“Also that was totally in the heat of a big scene moment. Good actors let themselves get carried away. That’s what happened. We can still be adults about this, moving forward. We can still be professional.”

“Right, right. We’re professionals.”

He’s looking at me now. I can’t quite make out the expression on his face.

Part of me hopes that he’s as confused as I am.  

“Today meant nothing,” I say. “Our past is in the past.”

“Totally in the past. But when I’m working with you…”

I feel myself inch closer to him. “...what?”

“Sometimes I can’t tell where we leave off and our characters begin.” Is he sitting nearer than he was a few seconds ago?

“I know. I feel the same way,” I confess, and then I’m definitely moving closer to him. Definitely staring at his lips. We’re like two magnets. Simply telling them to stay apart never stops the pull.

“But that’s the job, right?” he says, and his eyes are on my mouth now.

I nod. “We have to put everything aside and just focus on the work.”

“Right. Yes. I can do that.” He’s so close we’re almost touching. Then he reaches his hand out and places it on my thigh. I feel a chill run up my body, and I close my eyes. The warm, heavy feeling of his hand is so familiar and so exciting at once. “Can you do that?”

The honest answer is that I don’t know. I open my eyes and find him staring at me. I get lost in his stare. For a moment, we hesitate.

Then the next thing I know, my lips are pressed against his and his tongue is finding its way inside my mouth. I don’t know who started it, but neither of us can deny this is what we both want in this moment. Have wanted since this afternoon. Maybe since we first saw each other outside craft services two weeks ago.

He cradles my face between his hands and shifts me closer, as though afraid I’ll break our connection.

But I’m not going anywhere. I want more. I swing my leg over to straddle him, so I can press my hips into his pelvis. I groan when I feel how hard he is, groan with the need that’s already built up unbearably between my thighs. I rock back and forth, desperate. Only a few scraps of cloth stand between us, but they’re enough to frustrate me.

He stands up, me still astride him, then he tosses me onto my back in front of him. He kneels on the ground, and I’m lying on the couch of my trailer looking up at the ceiling, and a part of me is wondering how the hell this happened again. But a much louder part of me doesn’t want it to end before we’re both naked and screaming out all our unresolved anger in orgasm.

Before I have time to register what’s happening, I feel Tanner’s fingers creep up my thighs and under my panties. He plays with me, teasing before he plunges two fingers inside my body.

I gasp in surprise and delight.

This. This is what I need.

I let my thighs fall farther apart, giving him all the access he wants. Tanner dances and swirls his fingers around, first deep inside me and then up to brush my clit. I grip the couch, nearly paralyzed in anticipation. My legs begin to shake, and I can’t remember my own name anymore. All I can think about is how incredible this feels, and how, improbably, he’s become even more talented at touching a woman over the years.  Holy shit.

I’ve never been fingered like this before.

He leaves one hand to work every centimeter of my clit then takes the other and dances it up and down the inside of my thighs until I’m crying out. His free hand covers my mouth, but that doesn’t help. It isn’t until he stills that I quiet, although my hips are still rocking greedily, trying to get what I want from his fingers.

“Sshh,” he says, “Someone might still be around.”

“I don’t care,” I moan, and, in the moment, I swear I don’t. Let everyone hear how glorious this is. Tanner grins as he presses his fingers back inside me, bending them and twisting them, showing off more moves that get my body pulsing and my pussy soaking wet.

I’m going to come. I’m so close. “Fuck, Tanner, yes…”

“Yes,” he growls, and that’s all it takes to send me flying over the edge into ecstasy.

...just as someone knocks on the trailer door.

        Tanner’s hand goes back over my mouth, and I bite down on my cheek to contain my moan as the last few aftershocks rack my body. He stares at me, helping me come down, our bodies rocking together as I slowly stop convulsing.  

       “Hello? Jenna?” a voice calls from outside. It’s one of the production assistants. “If you’re there, Polly was hoping to re-shoot a few lines before we wrap for the day,” she says. “Can you be on set in five? And do you have any idea where Tanner is?”

But the more important question at the moment is, what the hell just happened?