My Leading Man | Timothée Chalamet

chapter twenty-two

    This was our worst production day yet.

    All the struggles of the week before with Syd were heightened by about a hundred percent. Her and Timothée's chemistry on screen had depleted to a clean zero. It was only one p.m.; we were recently back from lunch, and I had hoped the hour break would let us start fresh, but this footage was worse than it had been all morning, which was terrible to begin with.

    "Okay. Run it again," I called halfheartedly, massaging my temples. "Action."

    Timothée and Syd, or rather their characters, Theo and Naomi, were attending an event together organized by Theo's grandfather, in a reception center we rented for the day and next. Syd was wearing a tight, one-shoulder red dress that made her look elegant and wealthy, with dark, dramatic eye makeup making her blue eyes and blond hair stand out in contrast. Timothée was like an angel of death in his sleek black suit with his black undershirt unbuttoned at the collar, exposing his elegant collarbones and neck. I still couldn't believe we found Syd's dress at a thrift store and Timothée's suit from a rental place for only seventy-five dollars. The hollows in his cheeks stood out even more dramatically in his formal getup, and his lips looked pinker and fuller than ever; the curve of his mouth turned up just so, making him look handsome and arrogant. His lean chest and angular shoulders fit the suit perfectly, and they both looked like something out of a GQ magazine.

    They definitely looked the part, but the scenes were coming out all wrong.

    I watched as Timothée led Syd into the room, a graceful hand guiding her forward by the small of her back. He whispered something into her ear, she smiled, and they walked to the corner of the room to have some more privacy. My heart squeezed at the sight; I wanted to have Timothée's hand on my back, his whisper tickling my ear. I forced the thoughts away and focused on my leads.

    I looked to the small screen jutting off Ava's camera, as she zeroed in on their faces near the back wall.

    "Don't be nervous," Timothée teased Syd. "My grandfather's nothing but a rich, bored man who can't find anything better to throw his money at." The way Timothée was saying it was condescending yet intimate at the same time; he was doing the scene exactly as I had imagined.

    Syd giggled. "Help me ease the worries?" She said with false innocence, and nothing about it was believable. She looked like a thirteen-year-old girl with her middle school crush, not a grown, accomplished woman who was a professional spy and master of seduction. I groaned.

    "Cut!" I saw Syd roll her eyes through Ava's lens. I felt people turn to me for an explanation, but I just slumped in my seat, defeated. This had to have been the fiftieth time we'd run this shot, and it seemed to be getting worse, not better. "Take five," I called, also for the umpteenth time, and waved Ava over. "What do I do," I asked her quietly, and she just shrugged. "I don't know," she sighed. "This is the worst I've ever seen her." I unfortunately knew who "she" was.

    Then, inspiration struck. I sat up ram-rod straight in my seat, and announced to the crew I had an idea. "Let's run the scene again, but I will be taking Syd's place; I want to feel the scene and experience it first-hand to get a better idea of what needs improvement." I saw a few looks of surprise, but muttered sounds of agreement nevertheless. I thought I heard Syd whisper an annoyed "whatever," but I barreled forward anyway.

    I rose from my director's chair and strode onto the set. I instantly felt out of place; all the people around me, not to mention angelic Timothée, were in beautiful, bold colors and draping fabrics, meanwhile I wore a thrifted skirt and white t-shirt I'd embroidered little flowers on a couple months back. Timothée's eyes fell on me as I walked toward him, and I felt my cheeks heat as his gaze traveled languidly along my figure before resting on my face, smiling encouragingly. I could feel my nerve waning with the entire crew silent and watching me, but as he held out an arm to me, I grabbed it like Syd would have and squared my shoulders, deciding to fake it till I made it.