Chapter Text
“CUT!”
As soon as the director left the set and headed toward the camera operator, Anna Kendrick pressed her lips to a tight line and hummed the song “Titanium” quietly to herself, feeling a sense of awkwardness settle in the pit of her stomach.
This happened every time she and her co-star were made to stand—nude—in front of each other… waiting.
They would remain standing there for the first six seconds, glancing at the surroundings to pass the time when the camera stopped shooting. By the seventh second, a long inhale, some bored head-swaying, or some nervous lip-biting.
Anna tried to exhibit patience. By all means, she wasn't impatient with her co-star, but she was becoming a little restless with all the off-screen/on-screen changes from "nude" to "robed," without knowing if things would start up again right away or if there would be a long pause. Thus, she just stood there and waited for more instructions.
By the eighth second, Anna would feel a set of bright-blue eyes sweep over the side of her face, making the enclosed space, divided by partition walls to present a shower stall, feel a bit cramped.
The redhead standing in front of her had taken a tentative step backward as she tilted her head, mindful of where she put each foot so as not to knock down cables or step over fake shampoo bottles.
Anna tried to be amusing and alleviate some tension by flashing the woman in front of her her bright smile.
“What?” the redhead asked, furrowing her brows in uncertain amusement.
“Britt, I’m trying not to look down,” Anna said blankly, her eyes staring straight ahead and unblinking as her lips quivered to fight a mad grin.
“Kendrick, Gosh! You’re unbelievable,” Brittany squeaked and hit her playfully. “We’re on set. Grow up,” came a weak chastise, but followed by another giggle, “besides, I know you’ve already looked.”
“Yeah, but only 3-4 times each take,” Anna replied nonchalantly.
“You’re so weird.” Blonde-by-nature Brittany Snow, who dyed her hair red for the role of “Chloe Beale,” pulled it back into a loose bun and wore it curled. Her sky-blue eyes held a hypnotic allure. As she giggled self-consciously and covered her chest, she rolled her eyes. “How many times did Moore call cut by now?” she asked Anna behind her hand but refrained from expressing her annoyance with the entire situation.
“Maybe he’s foreign with other film jargon.”
They giggled like schoolgirls as they looked over at the film director.
They'd been out since 4 a.m., arriving in their trailers while dressed in sweatpants and sweatshirts to get their hair and makeup done for their respective roles… for each new scene. A while earlier, they had to undertake a number of preparations, including mental ones, to be prepared to face one another while nude. Also, learning their lines, and yeah, they underwent some grooming, and her character had to get all those tattoos and piercings on her body, before moving on to the actual shower scene, which had been taking place for the preceding five hours.
Anna's stomach was growling a little. Hours ago, she and Brittany were competing to see who could eat the most of a takeaway box of Chinese fried noodles while waiting for their next scene to film, without throwing up.
This was the norm, though, and she was used to it. It was either snatching quick bites between filming sessions, or the alternative was starvation.
Her co-star, a year her junior, Brittany, seemed just as exhausted, yet as excited and dedicated to this role.
It was just… both of them felt uneasy about something about this scene in particular.
They couldn't recall how many takes they had shot in the faux shower setting, where it was perpetually warm and humid. They might as well have been in a sauna.
Brittany slung her robe over her shoulders and fanned her face with her hand before stepping out of the stall. She walked over to take a seat on the prop bench by the same entrance that Anna had come from when she entered as "Beca Mitchell." Maybe exhaustion was catching up with the redhead, and part of it was her growing frustration, as visible in her features.
Sally, the set’s assistant—a slightly older blonde woman with a pixie cut and piercings—handed them both a towel and offered them their water bottles.
Anna grabbed her robe while adjusting the modesty patches that were covering her breasts and crotch. She never once asked why they had to be nude from the waist down, as they’d only be filmed from the top-up, anyway. Sure, the scene required Anna, playing the role of Beca, to strip off her robe and be filmed through a pane of chalky glass to suggest that she was naked as she showered. And it had been mentioned to do an over-the-shoulder shot, from Chloe looking at Beca and her backside. And a shot of Chloe’s nude back. But other than that, the characters wouldn’t have to be naked.
“Trust the director, Anna,” she reminded herself under her breath. She was sure to make a couple of suggestions once she was fully clothed and feeling more like herself again.
It was just a small crew, very intimate and private, to make it comfortable for the young actors. Cameron Deane Stewart as “Tom,” Brittany Snow’s film partner, who was in his 20’s, briefly left the set and excused himself to use the real facilities. And he wouldn’t be in the next few shots, anyway.
The film crew huddled around the screens, behind the storyboard, and in front of the monitors to review what they had so far. The young director, Jason Moore, who was in his 40s, seemed unsatisfied with any of the footage.
“Hey, you okay?” Anna asked the other woman.
When compared to her character as the bubbly and upbeat Chloe Beale, Brittany was totally Chloe. It was like Brittany was practically playing herself. Part of Chloe's personality shone through in Brittany, although without the redhead's peculiarity or… maybe even that.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Brittany said when she adjusted her robe, looking down at her black-painted toenails. “It's hot in these robes, but I can't stand the feeling of having my boobs on display.”
“Yeah, right?” Anna sighed, knowing the struggle. She walked over and sat down next to her friend as she watched the film crew mill about the set, some of them gathering in the shadows at the back, occasionally throwing glances at them, discussing that particular scene in the script, and comparing notes. Anna then stated, in a conspiratorial tone, “This kinda feels like shooting a porn scene, huh?”
“Ugh, Kendrick!” Brittany exclaimed in mortification at the thought, covering her blushed face and shoving her with her free hand. “Don’t make this more weird!” she squeaked, giggling, “Admit it, you must already be feeling uncomfortable about us being naked for hours.”
“It’s not weird,” Anna told her, knowing that teasing her younger co-star was her only source of amusement to make the situation less tedious and awkward between them, “c’mon, a naked Brittany Snow? Yes, please! You know, it’s the reason I’m doing the movie.”
“God, Kendrick!”
Laughing and shoving her back, Anna headed for the tables with the goodies, where she poured herself a glass of water and shoved two mini donuts into her mouth.
Cleaning her fingers off her robe, she spun around hastily, mouth full of food, and tripped awkwardly over her flip-flops as she staggered forward. She rubbed her head and looked around, hoping no one had noticed.
But she spotted Brittany staring at her and laughing hard behind her hand.