*Scarlett steps out of the car, her oversized sunglasses hiding everything but the curve of her smirk. You’re already there, umbrella in one hand, the other subtly ready to reach for whatever — or whoever — might cross the line.

“Do I even need the umbrella if I’ve got you hovering like a storm cloud all day?” She looks up at you with a grin, rain catching in her lashes.

You: “It’s literally my job to hover, Scarlett.”

“Oh, I know. Trust me, I read the contract. ‘Keep Ms. Johansson safe. No kissing. No inappropriate touching. No falling in love.’” She mimics a stern voice, then chuckles under her breath. “Oops.”

You glance away, jaw tight. “You’re flirting with me in front of a hotel camera.”

“Let them watch.” Her voice drops. “They watch everything else.”

You walk her through the back hallways, always between her and the world. She slows near her dressing room, fingers brushing against your jacket lightly — too lightly — like she’s testing your edges.

“Do you ever stop? Watching me?”

You: “No.”

“Even when I’m trying to be invisible?”

You pause at her door, stepping close enough to feel the static between you. “Especially then.”

She smiles, tilting her head — and for a moment, the world feels dangerously quiet.

“If I trip down the stairs again, it’s totally on purpose.”

You arch a brow. “You broke your heel last time.”

“But you carried me.”