“You’re right,” he said. “You don’t. I just . . . wanted to . . .”

This was it.

His fingers didn’t tighten on the side of her neck. He didn’t pull her. It was important to show that she wanted this as much as he did, that they were on the same page, partners in what was to come.

Carmen rose from where she leaned on the counter, lifting her chin up toward him, reaching for him. He slid his other arm around her waist and used her own forward momentum to bring her closer. In a single smooth move, they were suddenly tangled up in each other, in the heat and closeness, with the comforting smells of home all around them.

For a split second, their eyes met, an unspoken confirmation. Yes, this was happening. Yes, they both wanted this. And then they were leaning in, their mouths meeting in the middle in a crush of lips.

Carmen sank her fingers into Victor’s hair as he fisted his hand in the back of her dress. Lips pressed and nipped, chests heaved, mouths gasped as they shared a passionate kiss that seemed like it could go on forever.

The silence surrounding them was deafening, the only sounds their soft moans and breaths, picked up by the boom mic above them. Their attention was 100 percent focused on each other, except . . .

Except for a nagging feeling that something was missing.

And then:

“Cut! Going again!”

Chapter 14

As soon as Ilba released them, Ashton gave Jasmine a cursory high five and disappeared. Exhausted, Jasmine grabbed her sweater and phone from her actor chair. When she turned it on, the screen lit up with a series of texts from her cousins in their Primas of Power group chat.

Ava: Don’t keep us in suspense! How was the kiss?

Michelle: I bet it was weird.

Ava: Probably, but I still want to know what it was like to kiss . . . EL LEÓN DORADO.

Michelle: And I’m sure EL DUQUE DE AMOR is GREAT at kissing.

Ava: Better than EL MATADOR, certainly.

It went on from there, with the two of them speculating about Ashton’s kissing prowess while sharing emojis related to his many telenovela roles.

With a groan, Jasmine went in search of coffee while she read. Once she had another cup in her possession, she went to her dressing room to reply.

Jasmine: Omg you guys . . .

Michelle: You’re here!

Ava: Was it amazing?

Michelle: Was it awful?

Jasmine: It was so . . .

God, how could she even describe it?

Jasmine: It was . . . fine.

After a short pause in which Jasmine imagined them howling in disbelief, Michelle’s message popped up first.

Michelle: FINE?

Ava: Fine?????

Michelle: WHAT DO YOU MEAN “FINE”?

Jasmine rubbed her forehead and took a deep chug of coffee before answering.

Jasmine: Rehearsal went well, but then we didn’t get to practice all the way through until it was time to film and then . . .

Michelle: THEN WHAT

Jasmine: And then the director made us shoot the take 17 FUCKING TIMES

She added a skull emoji to the end.

Ava: OH MY GOD

Michelle sent a line of seventeen kiss emojis.

Ava: That’s so many times!

Jasmine: Tell me about it!

My face is sore!

Ava: So what made it just “fine”?

This part was harder to put into words. Ilba hadn’t been able to put her finger on it during filming either; she just knew it wasn’t working. Ofelia had hovered around the edges, darting in occasionally to offer advice and suggestions. She must have asked if Jasmine felt “comfortable” at least fifty times—she’d clearly been prepped by Vera.

And Jasmine had been comfortable, at least for the first ten takes or so. As comfortable as one could be smashing faces with another human being in front of a room full of people. Ashton certainly wasn’t the worst guy she’d ever had to kiss for a role. He smelled wonderful, and his lips were soft. And she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t enjoyed being held in his arms. But still, there’d been something . . . missing . . . from the scene. Her mind kept drifting to Vera’s instructions about the importance of communication.

Maybe it was just that simple. She and Ashton were missing the communication piece. True enough, they barely spoke to each other. She’d started to feel like he was warming up to her—she didn’t think she’d imagined his reaction to her over the mofongo broth—but after that, he’d only looked at her when the script called for it.

Not to mention, their high fives were shameful. If they couldn’t even get that right, how could they convince an audience that they were madly in lust?

And they had to. The show hinged on the rekindling of Carmen and Victor’s romance. If they couldn’t nail that, then what was the point? The show would flop. She’d be back to the dwindling world of soap operas, and it would be another mark against mainstream Latinx-led projects.

Jasmine: I think we’re just not communicating well.

Michelle: “Communicating.” Is that what the kids call it these days?

Jasmine: You know what I mean. We never talk, so of course our characters are going to be weird around each other when it’s time for THOSE scenes.

Ava: Is there one of THOSE scenes? Asking for a friend. Who is me.

Jasmine: I’m not 100% sure. We don’t get the whole season of scripts in advance.

Michelle: What, are they scared they’ll leak?

Jasmine: No, the writers are still working on later episodes as we film.

Ava: I don’t think talking to him is a bad idea. You can get on the same page and agree to work together to make the show a success.

Michelle: LOL “on the same page.” Nice one, Ava.

Ava added a winking emoji sticking out a tongue.

It seemed simple—just talk to him! But Ashton’s behavior stirred up all her old fears of being rejected, and reaching out seemed like the most difficult task in the world. But if they weren’t communicating well, sitting in separate dressing rooms between takes wasn’t going to change that. He clearly wasn’t going to bridge the gap between them, so that meant it was up to her.

Jasmine: All right, I’m gonna do it.

Michelle: Do what?

Jasmine: I’m going to go talk to him.

Ava sent a row of confetti emojis.