Page 158 of Reel Love

Stevens steps out and the crowd cheers. Some even shout his name. But his focus is fully devoted to me. He extends me his hand and smiles down at me. I step out and people cheer and shout, “Alana!” “Alana!” “Over here!” “We love you!”

Stevens extends me his hand and we walk the red carpet together, pausing to have our photo taken or to answer brief questions along the way.

We make our way inside the theater and are escorted to the front row. This is my film—the one where I played Ember, one of the few survivors of an apocalypse. I had to use my martial arts training, hone my skills at sword fighting, and do a few technically challenging stunts. My parents did produce the movie, and I’m grateful for their support. I only hope they can extend that same level of support to my private life someday.

The theater fills with more cast members and crew along with other invited guests. My co-star Bensen Stiles is sitting next to me and Stevens with his date for the evening. My parents are also in the front row with Rex, about ten seats down from us. I don’t focus on them. I hold Stevens’ hand and take in the movie, watching myself as if I’m someone else on screen.

When the show ends, the lights go up. Stevens stands prematurely. I’m about to discreetly tell him to sit back down when he walks toward the stage. Our director, Abraham, walks up the opposite set of stairs and meets Stevens halfway at center stage.

What is going on?

“Thank you for coming out,” Abraham says in that naturallycommanding and charismatic voice of his. “Alana has no idea we’ve planned this, but as a special treat I’d like to invite her up here to demonstrate a few sword handling moves. Of course, we won’t ask her to show off her proficiency for the martial arts in that stunning Monique Lhuillier gown she’s wearing. Wouldn’t want her to pop a pearl!”

The audience laughs.

“Come up here, Alana!” Abraham says with a flourish of his hand.

I point to myself, even though I know I’m the only Alana who can wield a sword in this crowd. At least, I think I am.

“Yes. Yes. Alana, dear, come up here for a moment.”

I stand from my seat and walk toward the stage to the cheers of my cast mates, other actors and prominent people in the industry.

I give Stevens a questioning look and he softly winks at me. I don’t know how he does it, but that simple gesture puts me at ease. Whatever this is, he’s in on it.

A stagehand walks out and hands me a sheathed sword.

Abraham thanks him and then says, “Oh. Wait. I forgot something. I have a clip I want to show first. Come stand over here, to the side of the stage with me, Alana.”

I’m even more confused. Maybe they’re reshowing one of the scenes where I engaged in a sword fight.

I follow Abraham. We’re not a quarter of the way across the stage when the house lights dim and the screen comes to life. But it’s not a clip fromOnly the Remnant.Taylor Swift’sInvisible Stringplays through the sound system while a slide show of me and Stevens fills the big screen. There we are on his boat, me laughing when he said something funny, us at a bonfire with friends, him holding me in his hammock and taking a selfie of the two of us, there’s a shot of us on Sharla’s couch at the interview, us in my kitchen, a snorkeling clip from the GoPro he brought on a dive. We’re underwater, making goofy faces with our goggles on. There’s a series of photos of us with his family at Christmas, abunch from our trip to Hawaii, us at Kai and Mila’s wedding. The slideshow ends, appropriately, with a shot of us on my deck playing scrabble as the sun sets over the water in the distance.

The house lights come up, and Stevens is still standing center stage, staring at the fading image of us on my deck. I was so caught up in the slideshow I lost sight of what might be happening. What did that montage of me and Stevens have to do with me demonstrating sword skills?

Abraham leans in toward me and quietly says, “Maybe you ought to hand me that sword. We don’t want anyone getting hurt. After all, my insurance for this production only covers so much.”

I look at him with an obvious expression of confusion. I feel my brow draw in.

“What’s going on, Abraham?”

He simply extends his hand and I place the sword in it.

Stevens starts to calmly stride toward me and Abraham.

I notice he’s got a telltale earpiece in his ear. He’s mic’d up.

Before I can make sense of this bizarre string of events, Stevens drops to one knee.

All the seemingly unrelated pieces from the past fifteen minutes fall into place in an instant. Stevens … the slideshow … that song.

Stevens looks up at me. “Alana, I’ve known you for most of our lives, and I found you in the most unconventional way. We’ve talked about this before—how serendipitous our repeated connections were. And, at every turn, it’s been you. You’re my best friend, the one I wake thinking of and the one I dream about. You’ve shown me sides of myself I didn’t know existed. And you’ve shared with me parts of your heart that belong to no one else. I’m the most privileged man on earth—not because I love Alana Graves, but because I love you, my Saturday Island Girl. I’ve got a question I want to ask you.”

He stands and points out into the audience.

I thought he was proposing. But now, he’s standing, and there’s no ring in sight. This night keeps getting weirder.

I follow the line of vision to where Stevens is pointing. The doors at the back of the theater open, and people enter, walking down the aisle until they’re lined up on stage holding up Scrabble tiles. A few people have two tiles, most only hold one. The image of this group is shown on the screen so everyone in the theater can see.

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