“Fancy seeing you in the wild,” she said when I reached her. Something in my shoulders dropped without my permission.
Her voice was even softer in person than on set, that gentle Australian lilt turning the wordwildinto something affectionate instead of ironic.
I glanced around, not really having to feign skepticism. “Is this the wild now?”
She tilted her head, studying the room, eyes bright and amused. “More like a very well-funded enclosure.”
A laugh escaped me, the spark of humor a real surprise. More for me than her.
She nodded at my camera. “Working or pretending?”
“I—” I hesitated. “Both?”
“Same.” She smiled like that answer made sense, but then an element of mischief entered her expression. “But I’m better at pretending.”
We stood there together while the room churned around us — people interrupting, music pulsing just loud enough to prevent intimacy, the hum of professional charm.
René passed behind me without stopping.
The nameless girl leaned in slightly so I could hear her, the faint warmth of her perfume — something citrus and clean — brushing against me.
“You look like someone who’s very good at surviving impressive situations,” she said, almost thoughtful in her delivery. “Not necessarily enjoying them. But surviving them.”
I blinked. “That sounds… flattering—question mark.” The question mark did more work than I wanted.
“It is.” A beat. Then, gently, “But not sure it looks like much fun.”
The words slid under my skin before I could stop them.
I took a sip of wine from a glass I didn’t remember even choosing and tasted nothing.
“You’re here for work too?” I asked, partly to distract myself.
She nodded. “Brand ambassador, apparently. Which means I smile, say things like ‘Isn’t the texture divine,’ and don’t knock anything over.”
“You’re doing great,” I said.
“The bar is in hell,” she said with a grin. “But thank you.”
We stood there a little longer, not touching, not flirting — just close enough that I was aware of the way she shifted her weight, the way her fingers traced the stem of her glass, the way her being there made the space around me feel quieter.
And I hated that I wanted to stay.
Someone across the room called out her name.
Just a casual, familiar sound to get her attention.
Her name.
It reached me a split second before I let it register.
Before I let it become real.
She turned her head toward the voice, smiled in response — and in that moment I knew it.
I recognized that I knew the name.
I just didn’t want it yet.
