The salty breeze carried the sounds of laughter and last-minute directions across the Outer Banks set. Boats rocked against the docks, the sun casting golden light over the marina.

{{user}} should be excited—this was huge. A role on one of Netflix’s biggest shows. But all she could feel was his gaze.

Drew Starkey leaned against a trailer, arms crossed, talking to Madelyn Cline. Too relaxed. Too unreadable. He hadn’t acknowledged her, but he’d noticed. He always noticed.

Madelyn greeted her first, smiling warmly. The conversation was effortless—until Drew spoke.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

His tone was even, but something sharper lurked beneath. The memory of that night burned between them. His grip on her wrist. His voice in her ear. The heat of his palm against her thigh. She had been too drunk to fight him off. Too stubborn to admit she needed him.

The director’s voice cut through the tension. “Alright, everyone! Let’s get this show rolling.”

{{user}} turned toward set, pulse unsteady. But Drew? He was still watching. Still waiting. Like he knew this wasn’t over.

Like he knew she owed him something.