Unexpected Co-star

Part 2

Days on set start to blur together. We've fallen into a routine now, a rhythm, where I no longer wake up with a pit in my stomach at the thought of working with Hugh. In fact, I'm starting to feel comfortable. Too comfortable, maybe.

It doesn't help that Hugh is effortlessly charming. Not in the overbearing, celebrity way I would have expected, but in the subtle, everyday way. The way he holds eye contact just a little too long, the way his smile always seems to reach his eyes when we talk between takes. It's casual, innocent even. Or it's supposed to be.

"Emerson, you're killing it this scene," he says one afternoon, as we wrap up another take. "That moment when you pushed me. Completely caught me off guard."

I can feel my cheeks heat up, but I play it off with a laugh. "You're just saying that because I actually pushed you a little too hard. I'm sorry about that by the way."

"No, I liked it," he says, his accent dropping just slightly, his gaze lingering for a second longer than necessary. And there it is again — strange tension that hovers between us. It's been building over the last few weeks, creeping into our conversations, our scenes, the little moments between takes.

We're walking off set with together when he bumps my shoulder, playfully. "Do I need to watch my back? Maybe keep a little more distance from you on set?"

"Oh, definitely. You never know when I might just shove you again." I nudge him back, laughing, trying to keep things light and playful.

"Maybe I won't mind next time," he says, his smile still playful but with a flicker of something else. Something I'm not sure I want to acknowledge yet.

I clear my throat, changing the subject as quickly as I can. "Anyway, how's your preparation for the next scene going? That emotional monologue looks pretty intense."

Hugh tilts his head, watching me for a second before letting the flirtatious banter drop. "Yeah, I've been working on it. Should be good. I'm a little nervous about hitting all cues, but I've got some ideas. Maybe we can run it together tomorrow morning?"

I nod, feeling the relief of shifting back to work. "Of course. I'll meet you early before the crew gets here."

The rest of the afternoon is filled with rehearsals and technical tweaks, and though Hugh is his usual charismatic self, the intensity between us seems to simmer just below the surface, neither of us fully acknowledging it.

Later that evening, as I'm heading back to my trailer, my phone buzzes. It's a message, it's from Hugh.

*Hugh* Hey, you still on set? Want to grab some coffee?

I stare at the message, feeling a little flutter in my chest that's been sneaking up on me more often lately. I don't know if this is just him being friendly or if it's something more. Either way, I'm not ready to find out.

*Me* thanks but I'm heading back to the hotel. Tomorrow's going to be a long day!

I send the text and throw my phone on the bed, pacing around my trailer. This thing between us— whatever it is—needs to stay professional. But even as I try to convince myself of that, I can't shake the way his voice sounded when he said, "maybe, I won't mind next time."

The next morning, I arrive on set earlier than usual, determined to get through the day without overthinking everything. Hugh is already there, sitting on one of the director's chair s with his script in his hand. When sees me, he waves me over.

"Morning, Emerson. Ready for that monologue rehearsal?"

I smile uncontrollably, settling into the chair across from him. "Yeah, let's do that."

We dive into the scene, but I can't shake the awareness that his voice feels different now— like every word has a weight behind it. The scene is emotional, a heated argument between our characters, and by the time we run it a second time, I'm breathless. Hugh's intensity draws out parts of my character that even I don't know existed.

When we finish, there's a beat of silence between us, our breathing still heavy. He's staring at me with this look—one I've seen in our scenes but never off-camera.

"That was incredible," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You make it easy," he replies, and this time, there is a playful grin. Just the steady, unwavering gaze that makes my heart race.

I stand up quickly, needing to break the moment. "We should, uh, get ready for today's shoot."

He watches me, his eyes lingering on mine before he nods. "Yeah, of course."

As I walk away, I can feel his eyes still on me, the flirtatious tension still think in the air. It's only been a few weeks, but our dynamic is changing between us. I just don't know if I'm ready for it yet.

For now, I keep telling myself that it's all just apart of the job. After all, this is what we do— play with emotions, make the audience believe in something that may or may not be real.