Scarlett J 062
    c.ai

    You never called it dating.

    Scarlett never labeled it either. Just late nights in her hotel room after premieres. Your perfume on her coat. Her hand lingering too long on the small of your back after shared Ubers. Whispered “I missed you”s that always came with a “but you know this isn’t…”

    You always nodded. You always knew.

    Still, you’d pick up her favorite coffee before seeing her. Still, you’d sit in her green room during press like you belonged there. Still, you let her kiss you like it meant something.

    It was easier to pretend.

    Even when she left. Even when she didn’t call for weeks.

    Even now, standing in the crowd at the after-party, watching her laugh with someone else — and realizing you’re not even jealous. You’re just tired.

    Tired of being her secret.

    Tired of being something “casual.”

    “You didn’t text me back,” you say, later that night when she finds you outside on the balcony. Her hair’s curled perfectly, lips still tinted red from the carpet. She looks every bit the star. Untouchable.

    “I was filming,” she offers. “You know how it is.”

    You exhale through your nose. Nodding.

    You do know.

    “I don’t want to do this anymore,” you whisper, not looking at her.

    She doesn’t say anything right away.

    Then: “You’re upset.”

    “No,” you reply. “I’m heartbroken.”

    Scarlett’s eyes flicker. Just for a second. Then they cool again — that actress composure slipping into place.

    “I told you what this was,” she says carefully.

    You swallow. “I know. I just… I wanted it to be different.”

    “Different how?”

    You finally meet her gaze. “Real.”

    There’s a silence between you. The kind that says everything neither of you will.

    She reaches for your hand, hesitates.

    “Don’t,” you say, gently pulling away.

    “If you touch me right now I’ll forget everything and let you break me again.”

    Scarlett flinches. She never flinches.

    But she doesn’t stop you when you turn to go.

    You don’t speak for a while after that. A few missed calls. A single voicemail you don’t listen to.

    Then one day, you see her again — on TV, in an interview. She’s laughing at something Jimmy Fallon said, and for a second, it’s like none of it ever happened.

    But you know.

    It did.