Page 38 of Sizzle Reel

Romy chews on her inner cheek. “I’m just…I can’t figure out Valeria’s intentions. The way you guys talk and hang out outside of work seems to imply she wants to be closer to you in a friendship way. Or, hell, romantic, though that’d all kinda depend on if she’s queer or not for real. And if she is interested in you, that’s fine, like she’s, what, twenty-nine?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Yeah, so the age difference is whatever. But given how sensitive she is to #MeToo and paying P.A.s fair wages and creating environments where the lower folks on the ladder don’t feel taken advantage of, it’s like, she must know she’s your boss.”

I’ll admit it—Romy’s tone surprises me, puts a pit in my stomach that the coffee isn’t helping. She didn’t have all this criticism about what I was doing before. Is it revision stress? Something with her grandma and the rent help she’s giving? I can’t think of any other stresses in her life.

But I speak as if I haven’t noticed anything. “I don’t report to her.”

“But she’s there, Lune. And again, I’m not saying she’s being predatory or anything. It just makes me think that she’s thinking of all this in a very professional sense. Like you’re a project for her.” Romy throws her hands up. “And I think that’s a good thing! Why are we analyzing Valeria’s texts where you gush about art and culture back and forth for flirting when she’s clearly begging you to ask to collab?”

I hold my phone closer to my chest, as if defending the digital words inside. “She’s never said anything like that, and aren’t I only doing all this because I’m pursuing a romantic relationship with Valeria? Besides, I have the professional angle covered with Brendan. Everything’s compartmentalized and it’s good.”

Romy exhales. “Have you even changed your dating app preferences? I want you to have these milestone queer experiences, and it’d be a dream to be with someone as awesome as Valeria, but you need to have some perspective on this. You’ve been out for a month. What happens if Valeria is gay and does want to have sex with you and you realize you’re not ready? It could get messy so fast. And you’ve worked your ass off for years and now this Hollywood angel is ready to swoop down and push your career, and I’d just hate for you to ruin it by pursuing the romantic relationship too fast.”

Tears burn in my eyes, hidden behind my sunglasses. Could that really happen? Could I ruin all this because I’m not ready for a girl-on-girl encounter? I can’t screw this up that badly, can I? I firmly believe that Valeria is a good person, so she wouldn’t stop having an interest in my art because of a sexual encounter gone wrong, right? And she wouldn’t just be pursuing my art to get in my pants, would she? There’s no way someone like her would like plain old me that much.

No way. It isn’t that complicated. She likes talking to me, and maybe there’s a spark growing between us. Her love of my art is just a piece of that. Plus she’s someone who goes out of her way to boost underrepresented voices. I watch her do the same thing for the other P.A.s on set, all from marginalized backgrounds. Romy’s giving me her best advice as an outsider, but she’s clearly stressed about something else. It doesn’t matter. I can read another human’s intentions just fine.

But I do see Romy’s argument about going slower. Starting with the glaring fact that I don’t even know if she’s gay.

“I think it’s just something she likes about me,” I say. “I know her being the director is weird, but what if I treat it like that time I was in love with my history T.A.?”

“You were too scared to talk to your history T.A.”

The pit still isn’t going away. It’s like I’ve avoided some out-of-nowhere fender bender–type tension with Romy, but we still scratched doors. Even though I don’t think this is ultimately detrimental to our friendship, I can’t stand not having it fixed and soothed right now.

“Okay, I’ll make you a promise. I’ll only spend time with Valeria outside of work in professional circumstances. Like normal mentor-mentee situations. Once the shoot ends, as long as there’s nothing weird—which there won’t be—if something happens, it happens. Whatever she decides to do with my career is what it is.”

There’s a moment of silence. I sip my coffee, desperate for the seconds to fall away.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Romy says.

I fold and unfold a napkin I swiped from the sugar station. “Can I still try to figure out if she’s gay? In, like, a professional identity-politics way?”

Romy sighs long and hard. “You’re an adult, dude. Do what you want.”

“You literally just gave me, like, ten minutes’ worth of advice. I’m asking as a baby gay to the wise older gay. Is that a faux pas?”

“Not when you’re queer and don’t force the answer.”

This isn’t working. I know she said when you’re queer, but the bite in her answer feels more like if.

“Has your perspective changed on the queer thing?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Before Romy can answer, my phone goes off. A Venmo payment from Valeria. Five dollars and the caption: How dare you question the validity of the circle jerks the Beatles did together when Paul CONFIRMED it in 2018.

I let Romy read the message. She smiles. “Lemme test something.”

Finally, the pit releases. I take a deep breath as Romy responds.

When she hands me back my phone, though, I can only stare in horror as I read the caption Romy’s added to the five-dollar payment: COME TOGETHER, RIGHT NOW, OVER ME.

“How is this professional?” I squeak.

“It’s Beatles song lyrics and us responding to the queerness of the band.”

Valeria responds right away. Five dollars and:

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