Unexpected Co-star

Part 5

The morning air is crisp, but the energy on set is already buzzing. Today's scene is one I've been dreading—a romantic moment between Hugh's character and mine, culminating in a kiss. It's not that I haven't kissed co-stars before—it's part of the job—but with Hugh, things are different now. There's too much going on under the surface, too many unspoken things lingering between us.

I try not to think about it as I get my makeup done, but it's impossible to ignore the nervous flutter in my stomach. I replay the script in my head, convincing myself that it's just a scene, just acting, nothing more. But every time I picture it, I can feel that tension tightening in my chest, like I'm gearing up for something far more personal than work.

Hugh arrives on set just as I'm finishing up in the makeup chair, and I glance up at him through the mirror. He's dressed in costume, his hair styled, but there's something in his eyes—a flicker of nervousness that mirrors my own.

"Morning," he says casually, though there's an edge to his voice.

"Morning," I reply, my heart doing that little flip it always does when he's near. I force myself to smile, trying to keep things light. "You ready for today?"

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "As ready as I'll ever be."

The director calls us over, breaking the moment. We both head to our marks, and I can feel the weight of what's coming looming over us. The scene we're about to film is pivotal—our characters, after episodes of strain, finally giving in to their feelings in a quiet, stolen moment. The kiss is supposed to feel natural, a release of everything they've been holding back. I wish I could say it was just the characters, but the parallels are too close for comfort.

The crew starts setting up, the camera angles adjusted, the lighting softened to create that perfect cinematic glow. I take a deep breath, running through my lines in my head again, trying to stay focused on the work. But then Hugh steps into his spot beside me, and the air shifts.

We rehearse the scene a few times, but the director wants to save the actual kiss for the take. Each time we run through it, I can feel Hugh's gaze on me, more than usual, as if he's just as unsure about how to handle this as I am.

"Alright, let's go for a take," the director calls out, and suddenly, it's real. The cameras are rolling, the lights are on, and there's no more hiding behind rehearsals.

I close my eyes for a second, centering myself, and when I open them, I'm in character. My lines come easily, the dialogue flowing between us as if we've lived these emotions a thousand times before. We stand close, our characters' words filled with hesitation, with desire they're afraid to admit. My heart races—not because of the lines, but because of the way Hugh is looking at me. It's not just his character—it's him.

Then comes the moment. The script calls for a pause, a quiet moment where the weight of everything becomes too much, and they give in. My breath hitches as Hugh steps even closer, his face inches from mine.

His hand cups my cheek, and it's like the rest of the world falls away. I know the cameras are there, the crew is watching, but all I can focus on is the way his touch feels, gentle but deliberate, as if he's been waiting for this as much as I have.

The line between acting and reality blurs as he leans in, and for a split second, I wonder if this is still part of the scene—or if it's something else entirely.

Our lips meet, and everything shifts.

It's supposed to be a brief, chaste kiss, but the second his mouth touches mine, it's like something snaps inside me. The kiss deepens, becoming something much more intense than the script called for. My hands move instinctively, grabbing onto the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. Hugh's other hand slides to the small of my back, drawing me in as if we've crossed a line we can never uncross.

The kiss lingers, long enough that I forget where we are, forget the cameras, forget everything except for him. I'm lost in it, in him, until—

"Cut!"

The director's voice cuts through the haze, and Hugh and I break apart, both of us breathing harder than we should be. For a moment, neither of us moves. We just stand there, staring at each other, the reality of what just happened sinking in.

"That was great," the director calls out, oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing between us. "We're moving on to the next setup. Take five, everyone!"

Hugh steps back first, running a hand through his hair, avoiding my gaze. "Good scene," he says, his voice rough.

"Yeah," I manage, though my voice feels shaky. "Good scene."

The crew starts moving around us, setting up for the next take, but I feel frozen in place. The kiss is over, but the feeling of his lips on mine lingers, like a ghost I can't shake. It's haunting me, I'll never forget this.

I turn to walk off set, needing to get some space, but before I can take two steps, Hugh catches my arm. I look up at him, and for a moment, I think he's going to say something—acknowledge what just happened, maybe even apologize. But instead, he just holds my gaze, his hand still resting lightly on my arm.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, his voice full of something I can't quite read.

I nod, even though I'm not sure how to answer that. "Yeah. I'm fine."

He doesn't say anything else. Just nods once, then lets go of my arm and walks away.

I stand there for a moment, my heart still racing, trying to process everything. It was just a scene. Just a kiss for the cameras. But the way my body reacted, the way my heart is still pounding—I know it wasn't just acting.