The Jacket Snatcher

Chapter 21- The Scenes

When Andy explained to me that I would simply be filming an every-day activity with each of the boys, I had no idea that one of those activities would involve cuddling with Luke on a bed. Had I known that, I probably would've declined right there. But I didn't know, so here I lay, propped up against Luke as we lounge on a big bed.

I feel completely uncomfortable, and I know Luke does too. I can feel it in the tension of his shoulders as I lean against them and in the stiff way his arm wraps around me. Why couldn't I have another scene like Ashton's? All we did was pretend to make pasta in the fake kitchen set, which was a complete breeze since we had literally done that very thing last night.

Michael's scene would've been better than this, too. In Michael's, we sat together on a couch where he "taught" me how to play guitar. We had to sit close, and I was practically between his legs at some points so that he could reach around me to place my fingers on the strings, but even that would be better than this torture right now.

"Stephanie, angle your head down so that you're leaning on his chest."

"Luke, your hand looks weird, lay it lightly on her hip. No, don't make a fist!"

"Lean closer."

"Put your head on top of hers."

These commands and more are yelled at us as we lay on top of the bed like two mannequins, while cameramen circle around us and angle their lenses at our faces. After several very frustrating minutes, Andy seems to have even had enough.

"Okay, okay!" he says, stomping over to us. "What the hell is going on? What happened to the two lovebirds that couldn't look away from each other during the concert? There was such fire, such passion! Where is it now?"

We both sit up and look at him. I try to put on my best scolded face, but in reality, I am cracking up on the inside. The truth is, that fire and passion Andy saw was probably just me wanting to poke Luke's eyes out or rip that stupid smirk off of his face. That fire leaned more towards flames of anger than romance.

In the end, I make the mistake of glancing over at Luke who is wearing a similar expression during our chastisement. When our eyes meet, I can see that he is also holding back laughter. As soon as we both realize this, the floodgates open. We both crack up.

"Yeah, Steph...where is...your burning...passion for me?" Luke asks between laughs.

I can't even answer him; I'm that far-gone. I laugh so hard that I eventually fall back onto the bed. Luke follows soon after me, and we both find ourselves calming down as we stare up at the tall ceiling of the warehouse.

My laughter subsides into small chuckles, but the smile stays planted on my face. That's when I feel Luke's arm wrap around my shoulders and pull me up against his side. When I don't object to the proximity, he turns slightly on his side to hold me easier, his hand resting lightly on my hip. I put a hand on his waist, which he grabs with his and entwines our fingers. My legs somehow find themselves woven with his and we just lay there, facing each other. AS I stare at our intertwined hands, I can feel his breathing steady and just know that he's looking at me.

Reluctantly, I glance up and confirm my suspicions. His ice blue eyes are staring down at me, and when I meet them, they soften.

"You know that I'm sorry, right?" he whispers so quietly that I'm sure no one else besides us can hear. "About what I said to Ashton. What you overheard."

I let out a sigh and just nod, snuggling closer into his chest. He might be sorry now, but that doesn't mean that he won't say something awful again. It seems to be a pattern with him. But I don't say any of that. Instead, I let the closeness of our bodies fix any of the distance the past few hours created between us. Call me naïve, but I would just rather start over than fight.