Page 8 of Baby Love

“Yes, we went to the same university here in Bangkok,” Spin says. “P’Park was two years ahead of me and also in the theater arts department.”

“Good. Then you aren’t starting as complete strangers. The acting coach, Khun Aat, will work with you after lunch. By that point, I expect him not to have to tell you to relax or to sit closer to one another.” She looks pointedly at the space between us as she stands, and Spin and I scoot closer to one another on the couch. Satisfied, she walks to where Daeng and Aod sit on the other side of the room.

I smile encouragingly at Spin. “I’ve heard we’ll be doing the scenes at Khao’s parents’ house first because that’s the only time the house is available for filming. We can start practicing those now.”

Spin nods. “Boom and Khao have an argument there, don’t they?”

“Yeah. Then the argument turns into a love scene.”

Spin’s eyes widen. “And we’re filming that first?”

“Yes.” He looks panicked. “I know you played a secondary character in your last series. Was there a love scene?”

“Just a chaste kiss, like the ones you and I had in Dirty Dancing. I’m really worried about the love scenes, P’Park. I don’t want to let you or Khun Lee down.“ He twists his fingers in his lap.

Putting out my hand, palm up, I beckon for his hand until he places it in mine. It’s small and warm. I squeeze it and then turn it over, feeling the tension leave him.

“Are you going to read my palm?” Spin smiles that winning smile of his.

“No, I just want to get used to touching you.” I look up. Spin’s cheeks are pink again. “You blush easily. I remember that about you.”

“It’s annoying,” Spin mumbles.

“It’s cute,” I correct him.

“I’m growing to hate that word. Everyone says I’m cute, but I want to be handsome and sexy.”

I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it. “That’s…cute,” I say.

Spin huffs and tries to pull his hand away, but I shift my hand in his, lacing our fingers together. “This is what I’ve learned while acting in bl’s. Every second we hold hands, it feels less awkward. It’s the magic of skinship.”

We sit that way a while, and I tell Spin a little about the house we’ll be filming in. It’s a place used in a lot of series—one of the producer’s homes, I think—with subtle changes made each time to make it look like a different home.

“Don’t worry about the love scenes coming up. By that time, we’ll be very comfortable with each other,” I assure him.

When I look around, I see Khun Lee has left the room. Daeng and Aod are cuddled together on another couch, practicing skinship while reading from their scripts. Someone’s playing music on their phone, and I suddenly recognize the song as one from Dirty Dancing.

“Do you remember any of our dance routines from the play?” I ask Spin.

“Sure. Sometimes I do them while cleaning my apartment. Do you?”

Cream, who joined us as I asked the question, sits down on the other side of Spin. “What play?”

When I tell her, Cream’s face lights up. “Oh, do one of the dances!”

Spin and I look at each other.

“I don’t know…" I say, but she’s motioning to the girl who is playing the music on her phone. “Taey! Start the song over, and turn it up full volume.”

I shrug. Maybe this is what we need to really break the ice. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” Rising from the couch, I pull Spin to his feet.

As Joe Cocker begins to sing The Time of my Life, I put my right arm around Spin’s back and join our left hands together. His upper body sways backward in an arc while I keep him steady, and then we begin to move, our bodies remembering the steps we performed so many times even though a few years have passed since we last did them together. A deep flush spreads up Spin’s neck to his face as I sensually run my hand down his side, bending so we’re almost nose-to-nose, and then the music picks up and we’re spinning and twisting as the members of the Heartbeat cast clap their hands rhythmically to the beat.

Every time we come back to face one another, Spin’s eyes meet mine steadily, and my stomach flips. I can tell by the way he looks at me that he’s becoming immersed in the part, and that allows me to do the same. Someone lets out a whoop from across the room, and someone else whistles.

I don’t even have time to worry if I can handle my solo dance, I just do it, and miracle of miracles, I don’t flub up. A few people cat-call and whistle, and in my peripheral vision, I see Spin climb up on the couch, ready to leap off and run to me on cue. I don’t have an entourage dancing behind me like I did in the play, but I dance as though I do, and when Spin leaps off the couch and runs toward me, I lift him high above my head at just the right moment in the song and the group watching us goes crazy. Memories of performing in front of an audience in the university auditorium rush back to me, bringing a wide grin to my face.

As the music slows and Spin slides down my body to stand on his feet, we stare into each other’s eyes, and the responsibilities and worries that have weighed me down for what seems like ages seem to wash away with the high of the performance.

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