Blurred lines in a forbidden fairytale [Taylor x OC]

{55} every breath feels like rarest air

Taylor's POV:

The words are lodged in my throat like broken glass, sharp and jagged, cutting me from the inside out as I stand there, staring into eyes I never thought I'd see again. Aurora doesn't say anything, but the flicker of recognition in her gaze is unmistakable. She blinks, her lips parting slightly as though she's about to speak, but the words never come. My chest tightens, suffocating under the weight of the moment. Anger surges through me, sudden and scorching, like a fire I didn't realize I'd been stoking for years.

I force a smile that doesn't even come close to reaching my eyes. "Well," I say, my voice sharper than I intended. "This should be fun." The makeup artist now standing beside me shifts awkwardly, clearly sensing the tension, and I take perverse satisfaction in the discomfort radiating through the room. Aurora's jaw tenses, but she still says nothing, which only infuriates me more.

"Shall we?" I snap, turning around. "I'd hate to waste anyone's time."

Aurora steps forward then, her voice soft but steady. "I'll set up the first shot," she says, her words cutting through the air like a blade. She walks past me, and the scent of her—a mix of something faintly floral and infuriatingly familiar—hits me like a sucker punch. However, the familiar scent is mingled with something else, something that almost smells like smoke - cigarette smoke. My hands curl into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms.

I follow her to the set, my heels clicking against the floor like tiny detonations in the silence. The crew is bustling around, adjusting lights and moving equipment, but all I can focus on is Aurora, who's now standing behind the camera, adjusting the lens as if she's been doing this her whole life.

"Are we ready?" I ask, my tone brittle and edged with ice.

Aurora glances at me, and for a moment, I think I see something flicker in her eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. It's gone too quickly for me to be sure, but it doesn't matter. I'm not about to let her see how much this is destroying me.

"Almost," she says simply, her voice maddeningly calm. "I just need to adjust the lighting."

I roll my eyes, leaning back against the nearest chair with exaggerated indifference. "Take your time. It's not like I have anywhere else to be," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Her hands falter on the equipment, just for a second, and I feel a sick sense of satisfaction. Good. Let her feel something. Let her squirm.

The first shot begins, and I step into the frame, fixing my expression into something neutral but confident. The camera clicks, and Aurora's voice cuts through the air, directing me. "Turn your head a little to the left," she says, and I bristle at the sound of her voice, at the ease with which she slips into this role.

"Like this?" I ask, twisting my head more than necessary and arching an eyebrow at her.

"Not so much," she replies evenly, her tone professional, but I catch the faintest flicker of irritation.

"Oh, sorry," I say, my voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Maybe you could show me?"

There's a pause, a beat too long, and then she steps forward, adjusting the angle of my chin with her hand. Her touch is featherlight, but it might as well be a live wire. My skin burns where her fingers brush against me, and I jerk my head away, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Got it," I say sharply, my voice a little too loud.

We go through several more shots, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. I keep making little jabs, testing her, waiting for her to crack. But she doesn't. She remains calm, composed, infuriatingly professional.