The buzz of the set surrounded you like a comforting hum, the chatter of crew members, clinking of props, and faint whir of cameras blending into a steady rhythm. You were standing off to the side, reading over your script one last time before the next scene. Drew Starkey, your co-star, lounged in a nearby chair, spinning his phone in his hands like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You know, you’re gonna wear that script out,” Drew teased, his lips quirking into a smirk.

You glanced up, rolling your eyes. “Unlike someone, I like to be prepared.”

“Touché,” he said, standing up and stretching dramatically. “But I don’t need to be prepared when I have the best co-star ever to carry me through.”

“Flattery won’t save you if you forget your lines,” you shot back, but the corner of your mouth twitched upward despite yourself.

The director called for everyone to take their places, and you stepped onto the set with Drew trailing behind. The scene was an emotional one, a heated argument between your characters.

“Ready to hate me for the next five minutes?” Drew joked, leaning closer with a mock-serious expression.

“Ready to win an award for my performance,” you countered, brushing past him to get into position.

As the cameras rolled, the playful banter was replaced by the intensity of the scene. Drew’s usual easygoing demeanor vanished, replaced by the raw emotion of his character. You felt yourself matching his energy, the dialogue flowing between you like a perfectly choreographed dance.

When the director finally yelled “Cut!” the tension dissipated in an instant. Drew broke into a grin, his earlier seriousness melting away.

“Not bad, Y/N. I almost believed you hated me,” he said, nudging your shoulder as you walked off set.

“Don’t get used to it,” you replied, shaking your head. “Off-camera, I actually tolerate you.”

“Wow, the highest praise I’ve ever received,” Drew said with mock solemnity, holding a hand to his heart.