The studio buzzed with calculated chaos, cameras rolling, assistants scurrying, and lights casting an ethereal glow over polished faces and curated sets. Grace stepped onto the lot, a vision of calm wrapped in a crisp white sundress, her black hair swept into a low, neat bun. Beside her, Eva exuded effortless cool in a black tank, tan pants, and boots, her sunglasses hiding eyes that missed nothing.
They hadn't come here for the spectacle, they'd come for Silas.
He stood under the glare of the camera, but his eyes, sharp and searching, found Grace the second she arrived. A smile ghosted over his lips, not for the audience, not for the director, but just for her as if she were the only real thing in the room.
Tristian Mercer, charming as ever, caught sight of the duo and made his way over with a gleam in his eyes that had nothing to do with stage lights. "You must be Grace," he said, extending a hand. "And you must be her impossibly cool friend."
Eva raised an eyebrow behind her sunglasses. "Eva. Not impossible. Just selective."
Tristian laughed, genuinely amused. "I like that."
Then, with an ease that seemed rehearsed but was entirely real, he began to charm her. He offered to get her a cold drink, but not just any drink, he brought her a vintage soda from a cooler no one else seemed to know about. He dodged crew members to snag her a chair in the shade and even convinced a lighting tech to let her wear the headset for a while. "VIP access," he joked, handing it to her with a grin.
Eva rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. "You flirt like a golden retriever."
Tristian placed a hand on his chest. "The goldenest. But only for very specific people."
Not one to be easily won over, Eva tested him with her signature sass. "So, what's the end goal here, Mercer? Impress me with your behind-the-scenes charm until I'm weak in the knees?"
He chuckled, undeterred. "No, just trying to match your cool. And maybe… catch a second date vibe while I'm at it."
"You're assuming there was a first," she quipped.
"There is now," he replied, flashing a grin that could melt ice.
Tristian wasn't smooth in a rehearsed way. He was sincere, boyish, and persistent, like someone who'd grown up never needing to fight for attention, but still knew how to earn it when it mattered. And Eva, despite her eye-rolls and sarcasm, didn't walk away.
Grace let the moment settle, but her eyes kept drifting to Silas, who was wrapping up a scene. Every glance they exchanged felt like a held breath—unsaid words heavy between them, tethering something deeper.
As the camera paused, Silas made his way toward them, sweat glistening at his temples, expression unreadable. "Didn't think you'd come," he murmured, voice low, almost reverent.
Grace tilted her head. "And miss the man behind the mask?"
He smirked. "Dangerous choice."
She shrugged. "I've never been afraid of fire."
Beside them, Tristian was now showing Eva how the camera rig worked, using technical terms with just enough flair to make them sound like flattery. "You ever think about being on this side of the lens?" he asked, grinning.
Eva leaned closer. "You ever think about shutting up?"
Tristian grinned wider. "Constantly. Still not very good at it."
As the sun dipped lower behind the set walls, a quiet sort of comfort settled in, a fragile, fleeting glimpse into something tender.
But nothing in their world ever stayed quiet for long.