“Ohhhh no.” He cocks his head to the side. The grin gets even bigger, if possible. “You researched.”
The heat spreads from my cheeks to my chest. I glance at my recorder, the red light blinking up at me. I’m going to have to relive the awkwardness later when I transcribe this. It’s already painful.
“Well, I’m supposed to,” I say, shifting in my seat. “Anyway, I guess that’s where I wanted to begin. You started acting when you were little, right? But you’re still pretty young. So how did that start?”
He leans back against his chair, lips pressed together. It’s kind of cute.
I should be taking notes on what he’s doing, but I can’t seem to form a sentence that doesn’t sound like a fangirl admiring a crush. I scratch it down anyway.
“I mean, my parents are really into movies, so we always watched them when I was little. They were in French, you know, but still the same sort of thing,” he says, bobbing his head. “And my mom is a director, so she’d take me to rehearsals with her a lot. I guess that’s why acting felt accessible.”
“So were you more interested in stage or film?”
“Film, definitely,” he says. “It always seems—I don’t know. I started off doing theater, and that always felt so normal for me, like practice for a sports team after school. But movies seemed so…romantic.”
My eyes dart up at that. The morning sun highlights streaks of gold in his hair and brings out the honey in his eyes. He’s talking about romance. It’s like he’s describing himself, breaking the fourth wall. I have to force myself to look away. Focus on the notes, Josie.
“Romantic how?” I make myself ask.
“It’s sort of like a fairy tale. It doesn’t feel real, not even when you’re filming.” He shakes his head, tapping his fingers against the table. “It’s like you exist in this alternate timeline. Normal people shouldn’t be able to be in movies, but there you are anyway.”
There’s something wistful about his face. I need to write a note about that—how expressive his face is. I guess it’s what makes him such a good actor.
“Wow,” I say. It seems to fall flat after the magic of his words. I clear my throat. “Uh, does that mean you’re studying film when you go to college? I mean—are you going to college?”
“I don’t know.” His mouth twitches. “You tell me. You did all this research, right?”
I freeze. It’s hard to figure out how to read this situation. I don’t know if he’s joking or being a jerk. Journalists are supposed to research the subjects of their profiles. Would it have been better for me to walk in here without knowing anything about him?
“Hey, hey,” he says, leaning forward. My breath catches. “I’m just joking. Sorry. I’m still getting used to this on the record thing. No one has really paid much attention to me until now.”
He gestures around the sleepy coffee shop as if to prove himself. It doesn’t even seem like he’s lying to make me feel better, because the smile is gone, even if his mouth is still soft.
“Well,” I say, tapping my pen against the side of my mouth, “I don’t think that’ll last that much longer. Not, you know, with all the awards you’re going to get.”
He actually blushes, ducks his head. It’s so boyish, it feels like someone wrote it. The guys at school don’t even act like boys. Maybe it’s a French thing.
“None of it feels real,” he says, voice low. “It really doesn’t. It was just—Incident was this indie movie I did because I thought the script was awesome and I had a free summer. I was supposed to be going to Brown this year, and now I’m deferred because of awards season. It’s crazy.”
“Yeah.” I don’t know what else to say. I’ve never been in this position. “You deserve it, though. You were amazing in the movie. I almost died at the end, when Peter met his boyfriend again and they were like completely different people. And then you were driving away and crying and I just felt my heart…”
I clench my hand. The corner of his mouth turns up. The blush is still there, but he doesn’t duck. He knows he’s a good actor. This is something I get. When Monique tells me I’m a good writer, I don’t disagree with her, because it’s true.
“Aw,” he says. “It wasn’t just me. There was an awesome script and director, and the rest of the cast was amazing.”
“Yeah, but I’m talking about you.” My words surprise me. “You made the movie, at least for me. I cried a lot.”
“Yeah?” His eyes crinkle. “So did I.”
I snicker. He leans back, smile wide again. I’m struck with sudden want. It pools in my chest, stealing my breath for a moment. Marius Canet is the type of guy I’ve only imagined hanging out with. Sure, there are cute guys back home, but none of them are like this. They don’t talk about movies like they’re fairy tales or express emotions as clearly as Marius does. It’s like he skipped over that part of a guy’s life where he learns to close himself off. I can look at his face and see everything flicker over it like a screen.
Stop. I shut my eyes. This has happened before, and it only led to hurt. Every time, I think it might be different, and it never is. Anyway, I’m supposed to be interviewing Marius. A crush would make this even more awkward. I glance back down at my notes.
“So, uh, you mentioned your parents. Do you think being raised by them played a role in your acting ability?”
The words are out of my mouth before I realize how formal they sound.
“Well, that’s a question.”
I wince.
“Are you asking because they aren’t from here?” He cocks his head. “I think the different culture had an impact.”
“Um,
