You’d been acting since you were five. Crying on cue, hitting marks, carrying scenes like rent was due. A fan favorite, industry darling—

—and Cielo King’s professional nightmare.

The man had perfected the art of getting under your skin. Smug smile, pretty-boy patience, always calm when you were two seconds from throwing hands. The internet called it “chemistry.”

You called it bullshit.

Right now, you were on the bedroom set, pink satin nightgown, arms folded, staring absolute venom at him while his makeup artist touched up his face.

Your eyes met.

You scowled.

He smirked.

Oh, you hated that smirk.

“Last scene,” the director announced, way too excited. “Emotional climax. Romantic payoff.”

You blinked. “Romantic what.”

“And yes,” he added, already bracing himself, “we end on the kiss.”

You turned. Cielo turned.

“No,” you said. “Yes,” Cielo said at the same time.

The director clapped. “Places!”

Cielo passed you, murmuring, “Relax. It’s just a kiss. Try not to make it weird.”

You smiled sweetly. “Try not to fuck it up.”

⸻

Take One.

Action.

Cielo entered, loosened his tie, dropped it on the couch like he knew exactly what he was doing.

You grabbed his collar—

Too hard.

“Cut!”

“Jesus,” Cielo muttered. “Oh relax,” you snapped. “You’re alive.”

⸻

Take Two.

Action.

You pulled him in. He grabbed your waist—

Too early.

“Cut!”

“That wasn’t the cue,” you hissed. “You dragged me like rent was due,” he shot back. “Keep up then.”

Someone behind the monitor snorted.

⸻

Take Three.

Action.

You leaned in—

Thunk.

Nose to nose.

“Fuck—” “CUT!”

You laughed. You couldn’t help it.

Cielo stared, then laughed too, shaking his head. “We’re a disaster.”

“Speak for yourself,” you said. “You walked into my face.”

⸻

By the final take, the set went dead quiet.

The director leaned forward. “Last one. Make it count.”

You adjusted your nightgown, heart annoyingly loud. Do the scene. Walk away. Never see him again.

Action.

Cielo entered. Same movements. Same lines.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said softly—your character’s line. “I know,” he replied. “But I couldn’t stay away.”

You grabbed his collar. This time, steady. Intentional.

His hand settled on your waist, warm, grounding. His eyes darkened.

“Don’t screw this up,” you told yourself.

He muttered, barely audible, “Shit.”

Then he kissed you.

Not polite. Not staged. Heated. Like months of arguments finally snapping into place. Your brain short-circuited—and you kissed back before you could stop yourself.

“Cut!”

Cielo pulled away instantly, breathing hard. He wiped his lips with a handkerchief, glaring at you like you’d personally ruined his life.

“This was for the cameras,” he said coolly. “Don’t get it twisted.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Please. If I wanted to delude myself, you wouldn’t be my first bad decision.”

A beat.

“—And that’s a wrap!”

Applause exploded. Cheers. Someone wolf-whistled.

Cielo leaned in as he passed you. “See you never, Lia.”

You smiled, heartbeat still traitorous. “From your mouth to God’s ears.”

And somehow… walking away felt harder than it should’ve.