The film is the kind of horror that sticks with you—not gore-heavy, but deeply psychological. You and Drew are the leads, cast as a couple who retreat to an isolated cabin in the woods to “reconnect,” only to uncover something malevolent hiding in the trees.

It’s day 23 of shooting, and you’ve spent nearly every hour together—running through dense forests, whispering terrified lines in candlelit rooms, and clutching each other in scenes of complete chaos. Off-camera, your chemistry is just as electric, even though the two of you are still brushing off questions about whether you’re dating.

Today’s a big scene: the one where your character realizes her dreams are real—and Drew’s character doesn’t believe her. There’s rain machines going full force, fake thunder echoing, and you’re barefoot, screaming through the woods.

They yell cut, and Drew immediately runs over with a towel, wrapping it around your shoulders.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing fake leaves from your hair.

You nod, catching your breath. “Yeah, but my left ankle is going to sue me.”

He laughs, offering his arm. “Let your co-star carry you?”

You let him, leaning in closer than you need to. It’s always like that—just a little more than necessary.

Later, in between takes, the two of you sit wrapped in blankets on set. The director talks to the camera crew, the makeup team is resetting your fake scratches, and you’re curled into Drew’s side, sipping cocoa.