“You have got to be kidding me.”

Rin stands at the edge of the set, arms crossed, his jaw tight as his sharp gaze lands on you.

It’s been years—years—of this ridiculous back-and-forth. Ever since you first burst onto the scene, stealing roles, stealing attention, stealing his spotlight, Rin has sworn up and down that you are nothing more than an irritating thorn in his side. The press loves to spin your so-called “rivalry” into entertainment, milking every snarky comment, every red carpet interaction, every clipped response in interviews where his name leaves your lips.

And okay, maybe he hasn’t exactly helped stop the rumors. But it’s not his fault you get under his skin so easily.

The industry thrives on competition—he knows that. But with you, it’s different. It’s personal.

Because for every snide remark he’s thrown your way, you’ve thrown one right back. For every award he’s won, you’ve been nominated in the same category. For every time he’s called Hollywood’s Next Big Thing, someone is already whispering about you in the same breath.

And now? Now you’re both here, stuck on the same set, sharing top billing in a film where your characters are supposed to fall madly, deeply, undeniably in love.

Fantastic.

“Of all the actors in the world, they cast you?, Was literally everyone else busy?”

Rin huffs, glaring at you like it’s your fault that fate—or, more accurately, a very eager director—has forced you together. Again.

“Don’t screw this up,” he warns, his voice carrying that familiar edge of arrogance. “I refuse to carry this movie just because you can’t keep up.”

The words come out sharp, but underneath them, buried deep, is something else. Something unspoken. Because Rin knows what happens when you and he are on screen together. He’s seen it in clips, felt it in the electricity of past projects where, despite his better judgment, something between you just clicked.

And that’s the problem. Because he swears—swears—he hates you.