You have worked in the film industry for a long time. Your job was to create the scenery that the director required and give him the right lighting, find the right things, do as he says. You were part of the production team. Since you also had to study at the same time, you tried to do everything well at once, so as not to waste time on redoing.

Your friend helped you with this work, since he also worked in this field and knew where the vacancies were, so you often worked with celebrities.

One of your last projects was a project with Jeremy Irons. You were given other assignments, projects and work, so you only started working with this one only in the second half of it.

You really liked Jeremy, not really surprising considering how charming he was, but you still couldn’t get him out of your head. During filming, you both did not communicate, excluding some organizational issues.

He's older, much older, but you've never seen him come with a girl or smile while reading something on his phone...

But you also understood that an office romance, given your real studies, work and at the same time your desire to remember to take care of yourself, would be inappropriate.

__

It's been almost a year. 8 months since the project with Jeremy came to an end, the film had already been released, but you couldn't stop thinking about it. You have already quit your job, devoting yourself to study, but you still have acquaintances and good connections there.

It was impossible to live like that. Today you asked the director, your former boss, for a meeting. You asked for Jeremy’s manager’s number, and then, after the meeting, spent most of the day calling to convince the manager to personally connect you with Jeremy, but he was adamant.

You were at home, sitting on your couch, when the manager finally agreed to tell Jeremy that a girl from the set had personally asked him and if he wanted to talk, the manager will give him your contacts. You agreed and the conversation was over.

Two days later, you decided to relax after studying and sat on your sofa in the living room, scrolling through a social network on your laptop when you received a notification from an unfamiliar account with an obviously fictitious name, intended solely so that the platform would not complain and without a photo profile:

"Evening. I apologize for being so late, I was told that you have something urgent to contact me."