It’s a very strange feeling to be a grown man riding on the back of another grown man, but maybe the skinship Pravat and I have developed in the short amount of time we’ve known each other really works because I find myself relaxing, wrapping my arms around Pravat’s neck, and resting my head against his.
As we approach the others gathered under a large pole tent, no one seems to think Pravat carrying me like a kid is out of the ordinary. He sets me on my feet.
“Rama’s shoe broke,” he explains to Tida and Maha.
Tida nods. “I’ll send Nahm for a new pair. Pravat and Tait, you two go first with the makeup artists. Aran, Maha has a couple of things to go over with you. I want to have a chat with you, Nong.” Hooking her arm with mine, she leads me a few feet away to a set of chairs facing the ocean. The sky’s clear and the sun strong, but when Tida raises a wide umbrella over the chairs, it gives us ample shade. Twenty yards away across sparkling hot sand, the gentle surf looks inviting lapping against the shore, and I stare at it until Tida speaks.
“How are you fairing?” she asks, regarding me from behind large tortoiseshell sunglasses.
“I’m doing well, thank you.”
She smiles. “Great. Are you nervous? Is there anything I can do to make all of this easier for you? You’re a little difficult to read.”
I let out a breath, telling myself to relax and be straight with her. “I’m a little nervous about the pictures. I have trouble relaxing in photos, but Pravat says he’ll help me.” Looking down at my hands, I admit, “I’m also nervous about filming. I’m new and don’t want to be any trouble to the rest of you.”
“You’ll catch on quickly, and Pravat will help you with that, too. You seem to be getting comfortable with him.”
I nod. “He’s easy to be around.”
“I’m glad there are no issues.”
I silently promise myself to make sure I never seem anything but completely happy with Pravat. After what he’s been through, I don’t want him to have any trouble.
“You two have great chemistry. I’m sure you’ll be fine. We’ll have several photo shoots over the next few months, and by the time shooting begins, everyone will have heard of the two of you as a couple and be anticipating the series. Photos are already circulating, and youseem very relaxed and at home in them, so I wouldn’t worry about this shoot.”
I hope she’s right, but I can’t help imagining her face as she looks over dozens of photographs ruined by my stiff posture and unnatural expression.
Finished with their makeup, Pravat and Tait rise from their chairs, and the makeup artist waves a hand for me to come over.
He introduces himself as Beam and wraps an apron around my neck before pinning my hair back from my face. For the next ten minutes I sit as he brushes and swabs my face until I think I have to look like a clown with all the makeup he’s putting on me. But when Beam holds up the mirror for me to look, what I see is only an enhanced version of myself with more color in my face and lips slightly pink and glossy. A stout woman moves in to do my hair, and then I’m ready. Aran has finished before me, and I see him and Tait following a couple photographers down the beach.
Pravat insists upon carrying me across the burning sand to the large beach umbrella where a short, athletic man with a camera waits for us. He directs us to sit on a dark swath of material with me positioned between Pravat’s legs, leaning against him.
“Relax,” Pravat whispers in my ear, running his fingers down my side and making me laugh. Evidently, he’s already learned my ticklish spot.
“Look intently into the camera,” the photographer instructs. “Good. Now turn and look into each other’s eyes.”
I stare into Pravat’s eyes while the photographer takes photo after photo, extremely grateful for the staring exercise we did at the workshop. Without that, I know I would be too uncomfortable to hold this intimate pose for long. Puffs of Pravat’s warm, minty breath fall onmy lips as I gaze into his eyes. Have I ever studied someone so intently before? I don’t think so.
“Now lean your heads together, nose to nose,” the photographer directs. “That’s it. Lower your eyes. Beautiful.” Over the ocean breeze and the accelerated beating of my heart I vaguely hear the soft whoosh and click of the shutter closing repeatedly. I find this is actually easier than smiling for family photos. All I have to do is sit here andbe.
“Rama, part your lips. That’s it. Beam. More gloss on his lower lip.”
Beam moves in, dabbing more color to my lips before moving away again. More clicks of the shutter.
“Marvelous. Pravat, I want to see desire. You want to eat his man up. Yes, perfect, just perfect.”
My pulse gallops at the way Pravat’s looking at me. I’m thankful when the photographer tells us to move again.
This time, I kneel behind Pravat, arms loosely wrapped around his neck and our faces together with mine slightly turned, my attention on him as he stares straight ahead into the camera. Next, we lie down on a blanket, Pravat hovering over me, one leg bent in a catlike movement.
The poses go on and on, until finally, after straddling Pravat’s shoulders, my upper half tumbling over the side of him while we both attempt to look sultry rather than awkward, the photographer calls for us to relax. I sprawl to the sand, and the team gathers to take a look at the results.
“What was with that last pose?” I say, brushing sand off my arms.
“You’ll be surprised at how good some of the weirder poses turn out,” Pravat says.
The photos must have been satisfactory because a moment later we’re instructed to walk hand-in-hand up the beach and play in the surf for some candid shots. By the time we’re called to change outfits,I’m exhausted. Judging by the sun, it’s well past noon. My stomach growls.