to make things awkward | fillie

2 | for just one night

". . .And cut!" Finn called onto the set. His set.

"That's a wrap!" he said, starting to clap and climbing out of his director chair, "Phenomenal work everyone."

While accepting congratulations from the crew, he looked out onto the field before him. So open and breezy and full of potential. The long blades of grass, glowing in the sun, moving in unison with gusts of wind running through them the way currents of energy move through the ocean in waves. It was why he chose this landscape for the last scene of his film. Because after two tumultuous journeys of  loss and love, his two main characters discovered how much potential they had when they came together.

What more perfect place is there for such a thing than the highlands of Scotland?

"Alright everybody," he said, "Angus's pub. Eight o'clock. First rounds on me."

More cheers erupted and the leading actress flashed a sultry grin his way. He looked away sheepishly, his cheeks warming, but knew that after a drink or two, he'd be maintaining that eye contact.

They'd been flirty since her audition in London, and now that they were done working together, there was nothing holding them back from the lust that powdered the air when she was around him. And he knew it was only lust. He didn't fall in love these days. That was for a different time. A different Finn. Maybe one day, when he was ready to settle down, he'd love again. But for now, he was more than fine just hanging out with people and letting loose sparks fly when he felt them. Hooking up was what people like him did. And who was he to argue otherwise?

Just a few hours later, Finn was sitting at the bar of Angus's with a smooth scotch in his hand, watching the excited faces of his crew celebrate the end of filming. The one room pub was small, but it was full of only him and his film's crew and cast of actors which, for an indie film, was larger than most, but compared to the big-budget blockbusters, was miniscule.

"To The Silver String!" Tony, the AD said, holding up a frothy mug of beer.

Finn raised his glass as the bar concerted the sentiment back. He took a sip and felt it go down his throat, leaving behind a warm, tingly, trail of scotch.

"To our director." came a British woman's voice from behind him.

"Tessa." Finn said, "I've been looking for you."

Tessa St. James was a dancer by trade who worked on many a West End production, but wanted to try her hand at acting, and Finn had happily obliged. She had long, toned, dancer's legs and a dusty blonde short mop of curls that brightened her hazel eyes and made her bronze skin glow.

"Oh, really?" she asked, her plump lips smirking, "Must have been before I arrived because you've been right here since I walked through that door." her eyes questioned him and he averted his gaze to the bartender for a refill.

"Must have." he said. And he wasn't completely lying. When he first got there, he'd done a brief scan of the crowd for her, but he knew she would come looking for him at some point by the way she eyed him after they wrapped. He just knew how these sorts of things went. He knew he had an allure that drew in women of all kinds. Short, tall,thick, thin, blonde, brunette, classically beautiful, more uncommonly beautiful. And there was never too much reason to say no on his end.

He'd had a few serious girlfriends in his late teens and early twenties, Elsie, Hannah, and Sophia, but he didn't care much for commitment these days. He enjoyed being able to just live in the moment with whomever wanted to live it with him.

That's why, after another cocktail or two, Finn made his move, getting closer to Tessa until he only had to whisper. He brushed the curls away from her eyes and said, "Do you wanna get outta here?"