Page 20 of Director's Cut

“Yeah, and she’s obsessed with California locals. She’s asked you about it, hasn’t she?”

What? Is perfect, poised Maeve actually really fucking weird? “Asked me about what exactly?”

Ty frowns. “Aren’t you from Pasadena? Maeve’s from Ohio, and she’s so starstruck by LA. She used to take local students out to Study Hall with the TAs she was working with to, like, buy everyone drinks and make the one local student feel like someone special. It was kind of sweet, you know? And especially after she saw Needlepoint with me at the New Beverly, she was so excited…”

And Ty just trails off, like he realized he made a huge mistake and hasn’t figured out how to remedy it. The fear filling his eyes is so intense that even I have to look away. Which, dude, calm down, I’m confused, but not because of him.

Is it possible that Maeve was so cold and stiff with me that first lecture in particular because she was trying not to fangirl over me? There’s just no way. And I swear she mentioned seeing only Goodbye, Richard! when we first met. When did she and Ty see Needlepoint? And Needlepoint—my stomach tugs, and stays taut. It’s official. Maeve has seen my sexy movie. Maeve has seen me naked. Maeve has seen me arch my back under a warm body, heard my fake orgasm, knows exactly what my body looks like beyond the slices of skin I expose in professional clothing.

Jamie’s weird comment about how I feel about people masturbating to that movie comes back to me as a flush spreads across my skin. That, and the way Maeve was so concerned with not crossing professional boundaries. Because, honestly, I do think about what Jamie talked about. People I’ve slept with have mentioned Needlepoint in bed. Hell, Luna thought I was using my real orgasm sound in that movie when we were hooking up last year and was baffled when she learned I wasn’t. Usually, the idea of my partners getting turned on by one of my films does little more than mildly flatter me. At best, it plays into the dom role I usually inhabit in bed. A little celebrity legend worship as a treat.

But Maeve has made it clear she doesn’t worship me. It doesn’t seem like she even respects me. The idea that Maeve thinks about me sexually is definitely not work appropriate. But I can’t get over the fact that she’s seen me naked on-screen and hasn’t brought up Needlepoint once.

Is it possible that Maeve did feel something when she saw the movie? The idea of Maeve even possibly getting turned on by that movie, it’s stirring something deep inside me…

“Valeria?” Ty says, his voice soft even as he prods. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head, returning to this moment on the Warner Bros. lot, grounding myself in the present. It’s like eighty-five degrees. Ty and I are planning a lesson for Rocky Horror Picture Show. We are only two classes into the semester. I cannot be losing it now. As I continue to pursue this teaching thing, I may need Maeve—kill me—to put in a good word for me someday. Meanwhile, I still have Trish’s obligations today. I have to meet with HBO after this and demand a gay sex clause in my contract if they want nudity for this limited series they’re circling me for, the only project I have in that seems vaguely interesting.

I sigh. I’d never admit it, but the new responsibilities Maeve gave to me are a lot. Ty and I haven’t even gotten to the minutia of lesson planning and my leg’s bouncing hard enough that the table between us is actually shaking. I clutch my thigh to keep it down.

“Yeah, sorry,” I say. “I imagine Rocky will mostly be a history lesson. How it got to be a cult classic. Talking about the shows.”

“Have you been to a midnight showing?”

I laugh. It’s supposed to be an actual laugh, but the sound chokes off at the end. “Ty, I’m gay.”

“It’d be amazing if you or Maeve talked about the queer angle,” he says, not skipping a beat. “Students love personal anecdotes.”

Personal fucking anecdotes. The blood drains from my face.

Okay, so. Maeve’s gay.

And has seen me simulate sex. And she’s attracted to women. Which I am.

Wonder if Ty would notice if I left to go throw up in terror.

“Yeah, sure,” I say.

What personal experiences do I have with Rocky? Maeve won’t even be in class when I do this deep dive into queer culture. And I shouldn’t care about that. I shouldn’t be thinking about who she does and doesn’t fuck at all. It doesn’t matter. I wave a hand in front of my face, hoping a breeze can bring some feeling back to my skin.

“Do you have any ideas for Little Shop?” Ty asks.

Work. I’m talking work with Ty. I need said work to go extremely well so I never have to do a half-assed lesbian-representation shit movie and talk about my personal life with scumbags like Winston ever again.

“Well, an obvious talking point is that the original movie aligned more with the off-Broadway ending, but that was cut from the movie because of the audience’s reaction in test screenings. So we can discuss what happens when you get too close to or too far from the source material. How movies often sanitize themes, especially anti-capitalist themes like the ones in Little Shop.”

Ty smiles. “Okay, I think you got that one.” He looks at his notes, and I wait to hear his suggestion. But Ty doesn’t speak. He’s just looking at me. “Seriously, are you okay?” he finally asks.

I have not interacted with Ty long enough to have come up with a canned answer.

“Yeah,” I say. “Just a lot of meetings today. We should keep going.”

“Okay, but I’m gonna talk to Maeve. She must be giving you some vibe.”

God, did Ty Dhillon actually threaten to do something more embarrassing than the time my mother called Sandy King’s mother and confronted her about Sandy making me eat sand in kindergarten?

“Please don’t do that,” I mutter.

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