You never expected the tabloids to catch up with you this fast. One week, you were just Alexa Demie’s co-star—sharing scenes, joking on set, and surviving long nights of takes. The next, every gossip site had photos of you two laughing on a coffee run, with headlines hinting at something “more than friendship.”

At first, you brushed it off. “We’re just friends,” you’d tell anyone who asked. But Alexa… she didn’t say anything. Instead, she smiled that knowing half-smirk of hers, the one that always made your chest tighten.

It started subtly. She’d linger a little longer when passing you in the hallway, or brush her hand against yours under the guise of adjusting a prop. On set, you’d catch her watching you between takes, eyes soft but intense. And every time the cameras stopped rolling, it felt like you were the only two people left in the world.

Rumors turned to reality on a quiet Thursday evening. You were reviewing a scene together, lines on the script illuminated by the dim desk lamp. Alexa’s voice, usually so confident and teasing, softened.

“You know,” she said, “I don’t mind what people are saying… if they’re saying it about us.”

Your heart skipped. “About… us?”

She leaned closer, eyes locking with yours. “Yeah. You and me.”