“Mmm,” she murmured, like she understood more than she should.
She was in the shots this time — actually on the call sheet, actually part of the day. Styled, placed, given direction by someone who wasn’t me. A role. A mark on the floor. Light measured against her face instead of just catching her in reflections.
And still, she stayed near me between setups.
Not in the way that demanded attention — just close enough that I kept having to recalibrate my framing when she drifted into my line of sight. Adjusting exposure. Checking focus. Pretending my hands were steady for reasons that had nothing to do with the camera.
She didn’t flirt like she was collecting points. She didn’t tease like she was trying to pry open a door.
She listened when I explained the next setup. Held still when the stylist fussed with her collar. Asked if the light was okay where she was standing, like she actually cared about getting it right.
She was just… present.
Professional.
Uncomplicated.
And I hated how much I wanted that.
By the time we wrapped, she was in half my selects — not just technically correct, but alive in a way the others weren’t. Not performing emotion. Just existing inside it.
She stretched her arms overhead like a cat, joints popping softly, the day finally releasing her.
“Well,” she said, turning to me with that easy smile. “Looks like we’re done early. Wanna finally grab that drink? Right now. No rain checks.”
There it was.
Simple. Casual.
No weight.
No implied future.
My body said yes before my brain did.
Then my calendar screamed.
I pictured René’s email queue. Mischa’s project list. Noor waiting for my feedback on her portfolio edits. Frankie’s album concepts. The stack of unedited raws that would turn into guilt by midnight.
And beneath it all, I felt Dominic’s absence like the shape of a bruise I kept pressing.
I forced my mouth into something light.
“I can’t,” I said. “Not tonight.”
She didn’t pout. Didn’t push.
Just nodded like she’d expected that answer.
“Fair,” she said, easy. “Another rain check then.”
“Yeah,” I replied, trying not to sound like I regretted it.
She tipped her head. “You’ll tell me when you’re actually free?”
I hesitated—because I didn’t know what free meant anymore. Then I nodded anyway. “I will.”
Her smile softened. “Good.”
