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Beyonce
Los Angeles
1:10 PM
The air in the abandoned house was thick with anticipation as I watched Chris and Rita rehearse for their music video. The sunlight filtered through the shattered windows, casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls. It was eerie but oddly captivating—a fitting backdrop for a song that had gone viral.
As they moved through the choreography, their bodies close, I felt a pang in my chest. I had always believed in artistic expression, but there was something about the intimacy they were portraying that gnawed at me. Chris was lost in the moment, his energy infectious, and I could see the chemistry between them, which was undeniable but unsettling.
"Cut!" the director shouted, breaking the tension. Chris and Rita stepped apart, laughter spilling out as they wiped sweat from their brows. I tried to shake off the feeling that had settled in my stomach. I was here to support him, after all.
"Hey, babe!" Chris called, his voice bright as he approached me. I managed a smile, but inside, I felt a swirl of confusion. "What do you think? We're about to film the more intimate scenes."
"Intimate," I echoed, trying to keep my tone light. I was proud of him, I truly was. But watching them rehearse those close moments made my heart race for all the wrong reasons.
"Yeah, just a little playful chemistry," he said, winking. But I could see the subtle shift in his expression as he caught my gaze. "You okay?"
I nodded, forcing the smile to stay in place. "Of course. Just... a little intense, that's all." I gestured to the crew setting up the next shot, my heart pounding.
"Trust me, it's all for the art," he said, his voice soothing. But as they moved into position again, I couldn't shake the tightness in my chest. Chris was passionate about his work, and I admired that. But was it worth feeling this way?
As the music started again, I focused on the choreography. They came together, their bodies close, and I felt that familiar flutter of jealousy rise within me. Rita smiled at Chris, her laughter light and carefree, and I was struck by the reminder that this was more than just a performance; it felt deeply personal.
"Cut!" The director's voice echoed through the room again. I took a breath, trying to ground myself. Chris turned toward me, that boyish grin spreading across his face. "What did you think?"
I hesitated, weighing my words. "It's... powerful. But maybe just a bit too much? You know how people can interpret things."
He stepped closer, concern creasing his brow. "You think so? I thought we were just capturing the vibe."
