Chapter 9
Something True
The lights on set had long gone dark.
The only glow now came from the tiny amber lamp in Jesse’s editing room, the kind of light that made people look softer, like they were telling secrets or falling in love.
Zara sat on the edge of the couch, legs curled beneath her, a hoodie hanging off her shoulder. Not her usual sleek wardrobe. No camera-ready hair. No filters. Just her.
Jesse sat across from her, hands wrapped around a mug of tea he’d forgotten to sip.
“I’m still surprised you said all that,” he said quietly.
She looked over at him. “I’m still surprised they let me.”
“They didn’t have a choice. You were undeniable.”
That made her smile. “Funny. You’re the first person who’s ever said that without sounding like they wanted something from me.”
Jesse leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I don’t want anything from you, Zara. I just want you.”
The air between them shifted—just slightly. Like gravity was tilting.
—
She’d kissed men before. Dozens, on and off camera. She’d been flirted with, photographed, praised, possessed, and passed around by tabloids as if she were a trending topic instead of a human being.
But with Jesse, it was different.
He saw the edits. The retakes. The bad angles. He saw her without performance—and somehow, that’s when he leaned in closer.
“Why do you do this?” she asked. “You could’ve stayed hidden. Safe. Detached. But instead, you—”
“—fell for the story,” he finished. “Yours.”
Silence wrapped around them like a slow inhale.
Then Zara shifted, sliding closer on the couch. “It’s scary,” she whispered. “Not the cameras. Not the show. You.”
“Why me?”
“Because you know how to look at me and still see what’s real.”
She reached out then, fingers barely brushing his jaw. He turned into her touch instinctively, like her skin was something he’d been missing without realizing it.
—
Their kiss wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t explosive.
It was slow. Careful. Deep.
The kind of kiss that unlearned everything they’d ever been taught about what passion should look like. The kind of kiss that said: I see you. I want you. All of you.
His hand cradled the back of her neck.
Hers curled into the collar of his shirt.
She broke away first, resting her forehead against his. “Tell me this isn’t just another scene.”
He breathed, “It’s not. It never was.”
She smiled through misty eyes. “Then let’s stop pretending.”
—
By morning, nothing had changed—but everything had.
Zara and Jesse didn’t post anything. Didn’t say anything. But the crew noticed the difference. The way her laughter lingered longer. The way he looked at her like she was already his forever.
At lunch, Zara brushed past Jesse and slipped a folded note into his hand. La
ter, when he opened it, it read:
> “This time, no scripts. Just us.
— Z”
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