Fat Funny Famous

Chapter 4

We're filming on Australian soil; all the glamourous European scenes have been shot, and now we're going back to the start of the story where Trish and Alrick first met in tropical Queensland.

Today, we're shooting inside a small bar overlooking the ocean. It's a real location; according to the royal biographers, it's the actual place where the couple shared their first kiss.

"Right," says the director, an older woman with impeccable style and an industry reputation for turning any fluffy script into a weighty feminist narrative, "you've come straight from the beach. Trish, you have no idea he's a prince. Alrick, you are entranced by this woman. You dance, you talk, you kiss." She raises her voice. "Okay, people – let's capture something beautiful."

The usual cries of "sound" and "speed" echo around the bar as the film set machinet clunks to life. Someone halts the process; there's a problem with the lighting.

I'm glad for the reprieve. Nerves clutch at my throat, but it's my stomach that talks in anxious, loud burbles.

Erik hears the audible gurgling. He smiles kindly. "Are you okay?"

"Not really." I gesture around. "This is getting real."

"Filming in a 600 year old palace while wearing a crystal-encrusted wedding dress wasn't real for you?"

"Nah, that was easy, mate. This is the serious stuff."

His strong jaw drops open in a maw of slight disbelief, his usual expression when talking to me. "You'll have to explain this logic to me, Mila, because I'm afraid I simply don't understand."

"Okay, all the stuff we filmed in Europe, that comes at the end of the story. Like, you reconcile with your dad, we get hitched, happily ever after – there's not much meat in that part of the tale."

I wave my arms at the beach and the bar. "But here... This is where it began. We know how it ends – but Trish and Al had no idea what was coming for them! And you and I have to play to that and keep ourselves in the present. That's the challenge."

What I don't say is that I'm riddled with fear that I won't be able to nail the chemistry with Erik. During the wedding scene, Erik and I had shared a classic Disney-style kiss – easy enough to pull off. But this kiss is something else altogether. According to the couple themselves, this was the moment they fell in love, when they realised they'd do anything to be together. It needs to be sweet, sexy, emotional, filled with promise, all while angling my face for the camera and hoping like hell he couldn't smell the onion on my breath from the burrito I'd slammed down a few hours ago.

Erik reaches for me, rubs the back of his knuckles along the bare skin of my arm. "Hey. Don't be stressed. No worries – isn't that what you Aussies always say?"

Goosebumps rise on my skin as the sensation of his touch travels up my arm, down my torso, causing all kinds of tension everywhere. I'm wearing a thin cotton maxi dress in a vibrant red; beneath the fabric, my badly behaved nipples have solidified into horny headlights. I've been fighting these reactions towards Erik for weeks; I have no idea if he even sees me as anything other that the weird Australian girl who is constantly trying to make him laugh.

Finally, we're ready. The director calls action, and Erik and I begin to dance, swaying slowly to a rhythm of our own making. There's no music in the room; that will be added later in post-production. But inside my heart, something is already singing.

The lines are simple, a short exchange between two people with a clear attraction and frighteningly little in common. My final line is, "Maybe we should just kiss instead." I deliver it, allowing the genuine tremble in my voice to break through, then tilt my face up towards his.