The first week following Ben's departure to the U.K was the hardest. Jen, Emma and Brie tried texting her in the group chat they shared, tried cheering her up even though they were all the way in New York and she was all the way in Georgia, but their efforts and attempts were futile.

Naomi didn't seem to want to carry on with the many conversations they've had this past week, always telling them nicely that it was a rather tiring day on set for her and that she needed to be up at 4am the next day when she really only needed to be up at 6am. The three of them understood their friend very well—they knew that she'd close off on the people closest to her because that's always been how she'd dealt with things.

"Sorry, the number you have dialled is no longer in service—"

Before the automated voicemail could even reach the end of its pre-recorded sentence, Naomi had already ended the call and chucked her phone aside, a solemn look plaguing her face. She threw her head back on to her pillow in an exasperated manner as angry tears began to pool in her eyes.

Turn off, turn off, turn off the waterworks, please, she implored with her mind and brain and heart and tears as she felt a warm teardrop slip out from the corner of her left eye, trickling its way down towards her chin.

She rolled on to her side before sliding under her duvet, relishing in the warmth that came with it as hot angry tears started trickling down one after the other—never stopping and completely unrelenting as her petite frame began to tremble. Guilt and anger and sadness and utter despair were all that she was feeling at the moment—God, would Ben even slide his American sim card in to check if he'd received any messages from her?

Naomi scoffed lightly at her own thoughts, shaking her head as her eyes darted from her bedside table to the ceiling-to-floor length window. She released a shaky sigh as tears clouded her vision, obscuring the expansive view of the city lights that were scintillating before her. Even the city lights reminded her of Ben because she knew just how much he would have loved the sight she was presented with.

Despite the fact that she liked Chris, she couldn't seem to find a way to not have Ben occupy the entirety of her now disarrayed mind. They were, after all, nothing more than friends. But she couldn't find it in her to completely rid the thoughts and memories she had of Ben—they've known each other for a good five years, and she wasn't anywhere near ready to throw that all away just because he'd finally divulged the confession he'd bore for so long.

She just wasn't ready.

. . . . . .

"Well, have you tried asking her what's wrong?"

"It's not that easy, Seb," Chris sighed exasperatedly as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb.

"You need to man up, Evans," Sebastian jested, shaking his head lightly at his best friend. "Did you try asking her friends about it? What about Brie? I thought you guys were acquainted."

Chris shot Sebastian a look from behind his phone screen, wondering if he was really being serious about this. "Brie and I rarely talk. It'd be weird if I just slid into her DMs out of nowhere, asking her about her best friend, who is practically and literally residing in an apartment unit that's just five blocks away from me."

"Wait a second," Sebastian said, squinting his eyes as he brought his own phone closer to his face. "Are you—are you actually scared of letting Brie know that you have a thing for Naomi?"

"Jesus Christ, Seb—"

"Answer the damn question."

Chris clamped his mouth shut as soon as Sebastian interjected, cornering him and leaving him with no choice but to be completely honest with his best mate. Chris took a sharp intake of breath before releasing it slowly as his eyes darted to the wall clock in his dressing room, "If I ever tell Naomi how I feel about her, I want her to hear it from me. . . not somebody else."

Sebastian nodded in response, understanding where Chris was coming from. "So, do it."

"What?"

"Do it. Tell her. Tell her how you feel 'cause if you don't, she may never know how you actually feel about her. And for all you know, she may actually feel the same for you, too. So, if you don't get out there and tell her, you'll never know if she actually reciprocates your feelings," Sebastian said, offering Chris a soft encouraging smile.

After the hour-long chat he had with Sebastian, it was about high time for them to end the call, seeing as Chris was called upon for the next scene and needed to do the necessary preparations. As soon as Chris pocketed his phone, a certain 5'6" brunette waltzed right into Chris' dressing room rather quietly.

The second she got right behind him, Naomi leaned in and yelled right in his ear, "Evans!"

Chris jumped in his seat—his heart pounding in a way that would make people think that he just ran a marathon—as he clutched his chest, his breathing labored. "Christ, Naomi! You scared the hell out of me," he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Thought I'd come in and surprise you," Naomi jested, putting her hands behind her back as she swayed from side to side rather innocently.

"You sure as hell did surprise the heck out of me," Chris said. "What are you doing here? I thought you're supposed to be in your dressing room, getting ready for the next scene."

"I'm already done," she said, gesturing at the sundress she was adorned in.

"Oh," Chris mumbled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck absentmindedly as he flashed her a shy smile. "So, I'm the only one who isn't dressed yet."

Naomi nodded slowly, a playful smile carved on her face as she bit down on her bottom lip while her hands remained behind her back. A comfortable silence draped over them as they stared at one another, too preoccupied with their respective thoughts; Naomi musing about how Chris never ceased to amaze her and Chris pondering over how Naomi looked so radiant yet so severely shattered at the same time.

The heavy bags under her dark brown eyes carried so much pain and sorrow and inexplicable agony, Chris swore he could feel it resonate within his rib cage as it shook him to his core because how on Earth could an ethereal woman like her shoulder so much misery and heartache, up to the point where it's even starting to show in the smile that she wore every day?

Inadvertently, Chris took a step forward, inching his way closer to the Swedish woman that stood before him. Naomi remained grounded in her spot, her head tilting slightly upwards as Chris neared her, her eyes never leaving his cerulean ones. Chris' eyes darted from one corner of her face to the next as he desperately tried to carve an image of how she looked right in this very moment in the back of his mind.

Please tell me you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you, Chris thought, his eyes growing softer by the second as they scanned Naomi's face, memorizing her features.

"Chris, Naomi! You two are on in five!"

As soon as Janice—Chris' hairdresser—alerted them from outside the dressing room, Chris and Naomi seemed to have snapped out of their mini trance as they immediately stepped away from one another as though they'd burnt each other.

Naomi was the first to look away, breaking the eye contact they'd shared not moments ago as a solemn look washed over Chris' face. A piercing silence blanketed the two, none of them wanting to say a word—or more appropriately, not knowing what to say at all.

"See you out there," Naomi said, her voice soft and distant, before she saw herself out of the dressing room.

The second the door to his dressing room clicked shut, Chris released a frustrated sigh as he ran his hands over his face. "Fuck."

. . . . . .

Neither Naomi nor Chris spoke about the kiss that nearly happened right in his very dressing room. It'd been a week since the 'incident' and both of them were still tight-lipped about it, pretending like it didn't almost happen—pretending as if neither of them wanted so badly for the kiss to happen.

The pair were friendly with one another on set but once the director yelled CUT! on the last scene of the day, they'd scurry off to their respective trailers before the producer or director could even praise them on a job well done.

The cast and crew were completely befuddled by their behaviour—did they have a falling out? Were they arguing or something? They were fine when they started filming two weeks ago, so why were they barely on speaking terms now?

It was a quarter past 8pm, and Chris—being the only actor left on set—was packing his things before calling it a night. While he rummaged around his trailer for his phone, Chris began to wonder if Naomi had already left for the night and if she was already back in her cozy apartment, sipping on a cup of peppermint tea while she FaceTimed her three best friends who were all the way in New York—God, he couldn't seem to get her out of his mind. . . and frankly, deep down, he knew he didn't want her to leave his mind, ever.

As soon as he found his phone, he shoved it into his duffel bag and made his way over to the door to switch off the lights in his trailer. Just as he pulled the door to his trailer open, he was met with a particular brunette woman, standing right in front of his trailer. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, just standing there as she watched Chris descend from his trailer with his soft cerulean eyes scintillating under the dim lamps that hung above them.

"Naomi," Chris sighed in relief, offering a small smile as he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder.

Naomi remained silent for a moment, not knowing what to say—not knowing if she should tell him what's been bothering her lately. "Hey," she said meekly, returning his smile with one of her own.

The pair remained as they were, standing out in the open, both with their respective bags slung over their shoulders as they softly gazed at each other. A passerby would have easily thought that they were lovers who have gone a long time without seeing each other, that they were now trying to memorize every square inch of their partner's face; every detail, every freckle and every mole.

"I shouldn't have taken—"

"I have something to tell—"

Chris and Naomi both chuckled at their impeccable timing, gesturing at each other to start first but neither one of them wanted to, not now at least.

"You wanna get some pizza?" Chris asked, breaking the silence that cloaked them a while ago.

Naomi chuckled once more, tucking her brown locks behind her ear as she nodded. "Pizza sounds great."

---
a/n; hi sorry i've been gone for two months :(

i was in a writing slump for a bit and then right when i was just starting to crawl my way out of that horrid pit, my new semester commenced and i was practically dragged away from my keyboard. i'm so sorry for the lack of updates but i will try my absolute best to update as frequently as possible. i'm trying to write a little everyday to make sure i don't fall into that pit again, so fingers crossed that i'll be able to roll out another update by next week. 😬

i hope you're all doing well and i do hope you liked this chapter despite its delay! i may write a part 2 for this. x

we're only at chapter 50 at the moment. . . i reckon we still have about 20 chapters to go! 😬

thank you so much for your never-ending love and support on this book! ❤ your comments have never failed to make me laugh! i'm so so glad that you're all enjoying this as much as i enjoy writing it. xx