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Leaning back, I watch the empathy dance in Kate's eyes as my words hang between us like a plane suspended mid-flight. A soft sigh escapes her lips, and she tilts her head to the side, those green orbs of hers shimmering with something that looks a hell of a lot like understanding.
"I get it, you know?" she starts, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it slices through the buzz of the restaurant like the sharpest blade. "That itch for something real, something that sticks."
It's my turn to listen, and damn if I'm not hooked on every word falling from those ruby red lips. She leans in closer now, as if sharing the world's juiciest secret, and the air around us grows thick with anticipation.
"Being in the spotlight," she confesses, her tone laced with vulnerability that tugs at my heartstrings, "it's like living under a microscope. Every move analyzed, every choice dissected. It's exhausting trying to be what everyone expects."
I can't help but lean in too, closing the gap between us until our breaths mingle in the candlelit space. The warmth from the flickering flame dances across her honey-colored locks, casting her in an ethereal glow that makes the rest of the room fade into obscurity.
"Pressure?" I offer the word like a lifeline, understanding more than I wish I did about living up to impossible standards.
"Understatement of the year," she quips, a sardonic laugh punctuating her words. Her gaze locks with mine, fierce and fiery, and I see it—the wild desire to break free from the chains of perfection.
"Every smile, every tear, it's like they're not even mine anymore. It's all part of the show, part of the act." Her hands flutter in the air, painting pictures of a life scrutinized beyond reason.
"Damn, Kate," I breathe out, feeling a kinship I didn't expect. "You're not just playing a part on screen, are you? You're doing it 24/7."
"Feels that way," she admits, a shadow crossing her stunning features for a fleeting second before she shakes it off with a grace only she could muster.
"Fuck 'em," I say, the words slipping out easier than my next breath. "Let 'em talk. You're more than their headlines and hashtags."
A slow, genuine smile curves her lips, and it's like watching the sun break free from behind the clouds—bright, beautiful, unstoppable. It's then I realize, maybe we're both looking for the same thing after all—a co-pilot in this crazy, turbulent ride called life.
I slide my fingers across the tablecloth, chasing the warm flicker of the candle's flame as it dances in Kate's glistening eyes. It's like I'm watching a movie scene unfold, only there's no script for this moment, no director yelling "cut" to save us from the raw punch of reality.
"Everyone thinks they know me, you know?" Her voice breaks, and it's like I can feel the weight of a million gazes pressing down on her. "But they don't see shit. They don't see the half of it."
I lean forward, barely breathing, because damn if her teardrops aren't about to spill like pearls off a snapped string. The last thing I want is for her to shatter right here in this dim, cozy corner that's become our world for the night.
"Ben, it's like...like I'm always dodging bullets." She swipes at her cheeks, trying to laugh it off, but her laugh's got this jagged edge, like it's been through a shredding machine. "Can't step wrong, can't look wrong. God forbid I feel wrong."
"Kate," I say, and it's a whisper because anything louder might just scare both of us. "You're human, not some damn porcelain doll up on a shelf."
She bites her lip, and it's a cherry-red plea for help if I've ever seen one. "It's exhausting. Keeping up appearances, smiling when all I wanna do is hide away and?—"
"Hey, hey," I interrupt, reaching out and taking her hand—smooth, delicate, a stark contrast to my calloused pilot's grip. "Screw 'em all, remember? You get to be you, Kate. Not the tabloid fantasy or the studio's golden girl. Just...Kate."
Her hand trembles in mine, but she doesn't pull away. No, she clings to me like I'm the lifeline in this sea of bullshit she's drowning in. "I'm scared," she confesses, and it's a punch straight to the heart because she's looking at me like I might have the answers.
"Of what?" I ask, thumb stroking over her knuckles because it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
"Of losing myself. Of never finding someone who gets me, who wants me for more than the façade."
"Look at me, Kate." My voice is firm, but gentle, like the way you'd talk someone down from a ledge. "I see you. Not the glitz, not the glam. I see the firecracker with dreams bigger than the sky and the guts to chase 'em. And I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise?" There's a hopeful lilt to her words, the sweetest damn sound I've heard in a long time.
"Cross my heart." I squeeze her hand, and it's not just reassurance I'm offering—it's an anchor, a pledge, a silent vow that I'm with her in this fight.
"Thank you," she whispers, and the warmth that fills me could light up the darkest night sky. Because somehow, in this crazy, messed-up world, we've found each other. And I'll be damned if I let go now.
"Okay, my turn," I say, breaking the charged silence. Her hand is still in mine, and it's like a live wire, every bit of her energy crackling through me. "I've got this fear, right? That the sky is all I'll ever have. It's vast and beautiful, but damn, it's empty too. No roots, just wings. And maybe that's all anyone will see—the guy who can't stay put."
She tilts her head, those emerald eyes of hers locking onto mine with an intensity that could rival the sun. "You want to belong somewhere?" she asks, her voice a soft melody over the clinks and murmurs of the restaurant.
"More than anything," I confess, feeling the weight lift as the words leave my mouth. It's not something I admit, not even to myself. But with Kate, it's different. She gets it—gets me—in ways I never thought possible.
"Your turn again." I nudge her playfully, eager to keep this exchange going, to dive deeper into the world of Kate Woodbridge.
