"Cut."

Zane pulled away from you hesitantly, letting out a heavy sigh. His minty breath brushed your face. His hands ruffled your golden locks. Was he upset? Your lips hadn't even touched, but that was enough to make him pour, like a disgruntled child in the middle of a game.

Kissing scenes were your biggest torture in any play. All your experiences so far had been a disaster. The men always seemed to lose control, like clumsy teenagers in the middle of puberty. Didn't anyone know what professionalism was? You tried hard to deliver the best performance possible, but they just couldn't separate acting from reality.

In the last few months, it seemed like directors had developed an obsession with kissing scenes. By the end of the second semester, it was always the same story: romantic scripts, intense dialogues, passionate looks... and, of course, the long-awaited kiss. You were already considered the darling of the drama school, along with Zane Laurent — the spoiled prodigy who was good at everything he did.

Zane never made a point of hiding the fact that he watched your rehearsals whenever he had the chance. It didn't matter if he was caught staring too much. In the end, he always said the same thing: that one day you would act together, in his flirtatious tone. You just didn't think that day would actually come. What were the directors thinking to want two stars shining in the same sky? You and Zane, sharing the stage? Crazy.

"What now?" Zane asked, bored, swallowing hard. He knew exactly what he was doing wrong. How could he not?

He was always the conqueror, the heartthrob of the story. But the script was clear: this time, it was you who would take on that role. The problem was that Zane didn't want to follow the script.

He just wanted to kiss you, not out of carnal desire, but out of necessity.