“Nah, you remember that time at Belle Isle?” Zay said, grinning as he held the door open for her. “You dared me to jump in the water, and I actually did it—fully dressed—’cause I thought you’d give me a kiss after.”
Love snorted. “Boy, you smelled like lake funk and French fries for three days from that nasty ass water. Wasn’t nobody kissing that.”
“I was trying to impress you,” he said and nudged her shoulder as they walked side by side. “Risked hypothermia for your heart.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You were ridiculous.”
They moved together like muscle memory, close but not touching, smiles tucked in the corners of their mouths. The jokes and conversation were so easy it felt like no time had passed. Neither of them noticed the room quieted as their presence filled the space.
Kam looked up from his phone near the monitors and raised an eyebrow. Across the room, Tara stood by the prop table and raised a brow. Before either of them noticed the glares, Deuce’s voice rang out from the back of the set.
“Ooooh, the love is thick in here this morning! Thick like a Popeye’s biscuit, no drink!”
The room erupted in laughter.
Princess and Zay finally looked up, startled to realize the whole crew had watched them like a live rom-com. Princess flushed and covered her face for a second, laughing off the attention.
Zay scratched the back of his neck and grinned, the tension between them suddenly very public.
“Alright, alright,” Princess said. She took a step back and smoothed her shirt. “Let’s get to work.”
Zay nodded in agreement, his voice low. “Yeah. No distractions.”
They split off. Zay headed to the sound monitors to talk through the music scenes, and Princess walked over to the design crew to adjust props and layout.
As Zay scanned the audio equipment, Kam slid in beside him with a smile so bright it could’ve lit up the room.
“Okay, . . . y’all came in lookin’ real buddy-buddy this morning.”
“We’re just being professional,” Zay muttered, eyes on the screens.
“Right,” Kam replied, still grinning. “Professionally flirtin’, huh?”
Zay chuckled and rolled his eyes but said nothing.
On the other side of the room, Tara leaned toward Princess as they sorted through fabric swatches. “Mm-hmm. Came in giggling like y’all got matching hoodies in the car.”
Princess smirked without looking up. “It’s fine. We’re fine. Just . . . keeping it professional.”
“Mm-hmm,” Tara hummed. “Professional got you blushing in HD.”
Princess waved her off, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her.
And just like that, the day began.
The hours passed by quickly. Love moved toward the set area and adjusted the layout of a cozy living room scene for the next take. She crouched down and shifted a mid-century coffee table a few inches to the left. Her fingers smoothed across the edge of the rug and aligned the corners for symmetry. She stepped back, squinted at the space, then reached over to adjust a floor lamp that leaned ever so slightly.
Malcolm watched her work with a grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You got an eye like my grandma arranging her Sunday living room.”
Love giggled and nudged a velvet armchair into place. “Yeah, well, . . . it’s just not how I remembered it.”
Malcolm paused. “Remembered it, huh?”
She straightened up a little too fast. “I meant, . . . not how I envisioned it when I wrote it,” she corrected. She brushed her hands together like she was dusting the moment away.
Malcolm raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. He glanced toward Tara, who had just walked in with a clipboard, and gave her a knowing smile. Tara returned it, saying nothing, just watching Love carefully.
“Yeah,” Malcolm said and dragged out the word with a smile. “Right.”
