Oh Baby, I'm a Fool For You

"Mister Barnes, we have to be on set in half an hour, we don't have time to wait for your primary makeup artist."

"Just give her five more minutes, I'm sure she'll be here."

I burst through the trailer doors just in time to catch the end of their conversation, nearly collapsing onto the linoleum floor. "I'm here," I panted, holding my side.

"Told you," Ben boaster, then immediately ran to my side and put a supporting arm around my torso. "What took you so long?" he asked quietly, pulling away from me to let the man he was talking to pass.

"Will fell in the water and I had to get him dried off and re-apply his makeup. It took an extra hour," I sighed in exasperation.

"Ah," he replied. "Well you better get going on me."

"Oh yes, your first day of shooting. From what I understand," I said as we walked over to his chair, "you're getting dragged by a horse today?"

He chuckled. "I'm not going to give you any openings for jokes," he warned.

I just rolled my eyes and pulled out a flat brush, and began running it through his long brown locks. "Your hair is really soft," I commented absentmindedly.

"I have an idea, and you can't get mad," he said suddenly, catching the hairbrush and taking it out of my hand.

"Okay?" I replied, taking a small step back.

"Remember back in London when you told me that you get uncomfortable with prolonged touching?" I nodded, and he continued. "I've decided that I'm going to help you get over that fear."

"Oh, uh, Ben that's sweet of you, but I'm fine." I took my brush back and continued with pushing it away from his face.

"I'm serious," he replied, catching my hand and pulling me closer to him.

My whole body stirred. "Please let me go?"

He instantly released my hand. "See? You were fine for the first couple of seconds." His devilish smile made me slightly angry, until I realized that he was right.

"Oh, Ben," I said, shaking my head and continuing his makeup. "How do you come up with these things?"

"What can I say?" he asked rhetorically. "You're my muse."

"And... Action!"

I watched the silver cart drag my friend my the foot through a forest in the middle of New Zealand. He reached up and began trying to untangle his foot from the stirrup that was attached to it, struggling in vain.

"Cut!" the director shouted. "Makeup!"

I dashed down ten yards to Ben, and knelt at his side, taking out a white sponge with his matching foundation color. "Are you having fun?" I teased, dabbing the areas in which some makeup had faded off.

"I love my job, I love my job," he repeated, staring up at me. His hand slowly reached my face without my knowledge, and tucked a few stray strands of hair behind my ear. "Thank you," he told me.

I shook my head at him and brushed his hair outwards.

"You're not blushing," he said, his forehead creasing in confusion. "Wait, never mind, you are now."

I "accidentally" brushed some liquid foundation up his nose.

"Hey!" he shouted, furiously rubbing at his face.

"You're ruining my work!" I chastised him, swatting his hands.

"NO!"

I heard the mechanical clicks of the cart, and the next thing I knew, darkness surrounded me.