Page 62 of The Actor: Harrison

“What happened?” he asks me worriedly.

“Kevin happened,” I mumble as he pecks my lips.

“Oh. That’s something that would put anyone in a foul mood.” He gifts me a smile that eases my nerves a bit.

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to sound happy about it. He doesn’t deserve to put up with my shitty day just because he’s the one hanging out with me tonight.

“Are you up for sushi? I was thinking about Nobu,” he suggests.

I’ll spend a fortune, but at least the food is great there. And the location is fantastic with the ocean view and the easy vibe.

“Are you ready for the paparazzi? That place is crawling with them,” I say when he slowly slips into the traffic.

He gives me a quick glance, assessing my reaction. After my conversation with Kevin, I don’t even know how to react about it. I was never particularly aware of them, because I’m not famous enough to attract their attention. But it took just one weekend with Harrison to be thrown into the spotlight and now I have to deal with them.

“You saw the magazines today?” he asks.

I nod. “The cover, I didn’t read the article.”

He seems to think about my answer and how to lay out the next question. Is he worried that I’m freaked out about it?

“And what do you think? Are you uncomfortable about that?” His tone drips with uncertainty. I never saw Harrison be anything but confident and he’s almost cute.

“I don’t read those kinds of magazines, so I don’t care what they say about me. If that’s what you are worried about,” I reassure him.

He nods. “Yes, but they’ll take pictures of you and sometimes they can be quite annoying. I’m used to it, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable about that.”

He thinks I’m going to leave him because I can’t handle the pressure of being in the spotlight. I didn’t think about our relationship, I haven’t put a label on it, but it’s quite clear that we are not fooling around. This is going somewhere and I’ve invested some feelings, even if I didn’t plan to fall for him.

“I know how this industry works, Harrison. I’m not in the big Hollywood scene, but I was well aware when I started to date you that this is your reality. I’m not pissed about it,” I state firmly.

He nods but he doesn’t seem reassured. “Okay. Good. I’m happy to hear that. But? I feel there is abutin this story.” He raises an eyebrow, glancing quickly toward me.

I take a deep breath, not sure how to say what’s been bugging me since this morning.

“But there is something that Kevin told me, and I don’t know how I feel about it,” I blurt out.

“Okay…” He drags the word out, waiting for an explanation.

“He suggested talking to you and selling our story to a newspaper, or talk show, I don’t even know what he was suggesting exactly.” I hold my breath, trying to discern his reaction.

He is stunned silent for a heartbeat. “What?” He almost chokes on the word.

“I’m not saying I’m on board with it, but he has a point. Someone else is gaining from us, from our pictures, from living our life, and we don’t have a say in it. I’m pissed about it. I mean, I’m okay playing the fame game, but why does someone else get to make money from my relationship, my body, my persona, and I’m here struggling to find funds for my movie? It’s not fair.” It sounds more like a rant than an explanation, but I can’t express all the reasoning I went through today in a decent way.

“So—what? You want to sell us out like we’re some kind of entertainment?” he shouts.

He’s angry, furious. I shouldn’t have said anything.

“They’re already selling us out for anyone’s pleasure and getting money from it. Aren’t you even a little bit pissed about that?” I shout back.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s the deal of being famous. I gain popularity, they gain money. But selling my private life for cash? That is a new low for me. Are you that desperate to whore yourself out?”

His words sting because they go straight to the point. Willingly giving up that part of my life for money is exactly like selling my body for sex. There is no difference, in both cases I sell a part of me that should be private.

“Easy for you to say. You’re a billionaire,” I mumble.

“I offered you a solution and you spat on it. You have no right to complain,” he says before taking the first exit and entering the freeway going the other direction. I assume we’re not having sushi tonight, and I’m not sure we still have a relationship either.

---