They’re on set filming season three — long hours, fake swords, and too many shared scenes. Between takes, he leans against the wall near craft services, watching her with that familiar smirk.

“You know,” {{user}} says, not even looking up from her script, “I heard you’ve got a reputation.”

He raises an eyebrow, pretending not to know. “Oh yeah? What kind of reputation?”

“The ‘I-flirt-with-every-girl-and-mean-it-with-none’ kind.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Seriously? That’s what you think of me?”

“I didn’t say it was true. Just said I heard it.”

She walks past him, brushing shoulders just slightly, and he follows without hesitation.

“I talk to people. I joke around. That doesn’t make me a player.”

“Mmhm,” {{user}} hums, flipping through her sides. “You’ve probably used that exact line five times this week.”

He steps in front of her, stopping her mid-step. “Okay, then tell me this — have I said it to you?”

She hesitates.

“That’s different,” she says finally. “You’re just… persistent.”

“Because you’re the only one who looks at me like she doesn’t care. You have no idea how frustrating that is.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a flicker of a smile. “Maybe because I know better.”

He softens. “Or maybe because you actually like me, and that scares the hell out of you.”

She goes quiet, glancing down at the page in her hand.

The director calls for reset, and she moves toward her mark. Just before stepping away, she mutters, “Still doesn’t mean you’re not a flirt.”

He grins, watching her walk off. “Only with you.”

Rumors swirl around him, but none of them matter. Not when he’s trying this hard to get through to one girl who keeps pretending she doesn’t care — even though she does.