James sits in the airport and looks at the arrivals board. 15 minutes late. They’d planned their respective trips from JFK and LAX to SUN so that they would arrive within 30 minutes of each other, but her plane was late. If anything, he thought that he’d have had the more difficult leg, but he landed to text messages from Lily about a delayed take off: “The plane is broken. They are literally flying a part here from another airport. Next plane leaves in 3 hours. I can’t even.” He could have just taken a cab to the Deer Valley cabin that they were sharing with the rest of the team, but he didn’t want to miss her. He knew that it was illogical for them to make up time in the air, but couldn’t there be some magic wind current that brought her plane there more quickly. He was nervous enough about flying alone while it was snowing. He didn’t like to think about her flying through it. “It’s been two months,” he thought. What’s 15 more minutes?
He approached the gate with a sign bearing nothing but a hand drawn sun. He saw a flash of her red hair peeking out of an adorable crocheted beret, and before he knew it, her hands were behind his neck pulling him into a kiss.
They were usually more careful about PDA—what with their rabid Jily fanbase and the fact that there were more than enough kisses documented to last a lifetime—but Lily didn’t care. She missed him. She missed this. Once she declared herself on his doorstep, that was it. There was no turning back. She just hadn’t expected it to be this hard. After so many months of kissing him because she had to, she couldn’t stop kissing him because she wanted to. Damn the fans, he was her sunshine and she was flying close to the sun.
There were worse things than having a movie that was a “hot ticket” at Sundance, but when even your cab driver was talking about getting tickets for a screening, it was hard to take advantage of the only 15 minutes that they’d probably have to themselves all week. Between the screenings and the interviews and the “lounges” and the cabin full of people—including his baby sister—he wished that he had used his first Marvel Studios paycheck on a private suite or some ridiculous couples spa package at one of the fancy resorts just so that they could steal away some time to themselves.
They are at the EW lounge and halfway through their interview it veers off course toward Jily; Lily swears that the thin mountain air is making her loopy because she doesn’t even mind talking about it. When the reporter mentions the recent cover of the Nylon “Young Hollywood” Issue and says that they might be the “next Emma Stone and Andrew Garfield,” Lily replies, “Well, aside from being a natural blonde turned redhead that fell in love with her co-star, I think that that’s where our similarities end. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t stand him for the first three films we did together. And when I realized what an idiot I’d been, and that he was a pretty awesome guy, it was too late, we’d already developed a rhythm. But this film was different. We were different. There was this one take—oh god, James is going to kill me for telling this—but we were doing a pretty pivotal scene in the film, a really make or break moment, and I can’t speak for James, but I just got lost in the kiss. The director said cut, and we didn’t. I’d like to say that it was because I had achieved a place where I had become my character, but it was more than that. And then he handed me a towel and my world turned on its head.”
They move to the infamous photo booth, and after doing some silly shots and some serious poses, James sweeps her off her feet and says, “Shall we give them what they want?”
Lily rolls her eyes and says, “I’m through with giving people what they want, I’m going to do what I want” and she pulls him in for a kiss.
Not loopy, just happy.
James hates watching himself onscreen, but he has trouble tearing his eyes away. He misses working with her and the past few months have only amplified it. Sure, being with Lily in real life was so much better than those stolen moments while the camera was rolling, but that was what life was like for so long and he realized that he was watching the end of an era. He wondered if it would be different if they worked together again. Would they be one of those couples that lose all of their onscreen chemistry once they began to react in real life?
As if she could read his mind, Lily put her hand on his thigh and gave it a squeeze. He intertwined his fingers with hers and looked at her. Their eyes met, and she gave him a smile. As she turned her face back to the screen, he watched the light from the film flicker over her porcelain complexion. In that moment, he knew that nothing else mattered. It wouldn’t matter who would be at the after party. It wouldn’t matter whether or not their film was bought by a major studio. And it wouldn’t matter whether or not they worked together. They were together and that was what was important.
n. the desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.
Yep, this is what I want. And I know it will never happen. I just feel things too deeply. I don’t know how to quit things.
This is going to go somewhere on my personal/professional website. You know, once I decide if I’m going to merge the two.