The Make-Up Artist

Chapter Thirty: Keep It Professional

Taron takes much longer to wrap up the scene than you thought he would, so you pass the time by napping a little more, calling your mom and catching up on things back home. You are just scrolling through Twitter when Taron finally returns, fully clothed and looking quite exhausted. You notice that his face looks a little pale and his eyes are bloodshot.

"Hey you", he says with a smile. "You ready?"

"Yep", you answer, climbing off the bed and gathering your things. "How'd it go?" You ask, as the two of you make your way out of the trailer and on to the parking lot.

"Good, we were in the water most of the day filming the pool scene", he responds with a sigh. You had read about the scene in question so you're somewhat familiar with what he's referring to.

"I bet that was different", you offer.

"Yes, I've done water scenes before, but this one was a little tricky", he admits. He then proceeds to tell you all about the difficulty he had at first with the depth of the pool, but then how it became easier after awhile. It's fascinating listening to him talk about the process and you know you will miss this when filming is over. Because it's so late, you decide to just go back to his apartment and get take-out, which is actually perfect. You wonder with the long day and him being so tired if he will even bring up the things you said to him last night. But in true Taron fashion, as soon as you're done eating your Chinese take-out, he turns to you and says, "Ok, about last night..."

"Yes?" You ask innocently, and he cocks an eyebrow at you. You are certain he's going to ask you about Anthony, and you have no idea what his reaction will be when he finds out he's been texting you daily since you returned from L.A.

"What is this about your chest hurting?" He asks, scrutinizing your face, and you are more than a little surprised. You hadn't planned on explaining this one, especially since you can't explain it to yourself. You haven't wanted to mention it out loud for fear of there being an actual medical problem, but you don't want to lie to him either.

"Well...it's not really that big a deal. I'm sure it's nothing...," you stall. "But I guess, my chest has kind of been hurting off and on since I got back here...," you stammer, and his lips press into a hard line. "Actually, it started when I was back home, but it's not too bad...most of the time", you add, then glance up into his eyes. You see anger there.

"Since you went home?? Why didn't you tell me before now?" He asks, looking like he's trying very hard to hold himself back from what he really wants to say.

"Like I said, I didn't think it was a big deal and that it would go away...eventually."

"Where does it hurt?" He asks, glancing down at your chest.

"Right here", you say, pressing your fingers to the hollow space between your breasts and rubbing slightly as you do when it flares up. He covers your hand with his own and presses it flat against your chest. He then looks back up into your eyes and now you see something different, sadness...and worry.

"Is it all the time?" He asks.

"No", you are quick to say. "Only sometimes..."

"Ok, when does it hurt? When you're doing something specific or...?" You think about this for a moment. It doesn't seem to hurt when you're doing anything in particular. Usually just thinking.

"No, it's pretty random. And it doesn't last too long", you add. The less he worries the better. He sighs heavily and swallows.

"I want you to start paying attention to when it hurts. Write it down if you need to. And I want you to tell me when it does." You nod your head in agreement. "And...if it continues past this week, I want you to go to the doctor." At this you roll your eyes.