I don't know what I was expecting when I walked onto the set this morning, but it wasn't this. The air is thick with anticipation, the kind of charged atmosphere that follows after a storm, like everyone's waiting for something. Maybe it's just me, but after last night's scene, I swear the whole crew is watching a little too closely.

I stand in front of the mirror in my dressing room, wiping off the last traces of makeup from last night. It feels like I've washed away the scene, but I can't seem to shake the unease still lingering in the pit of my stomach. It's just a job, I remind myself. Nothing more, nothing less. But that doesn't explain why I can't stop thinking about Jared—his smug grin, the way his eyes seemed to know me better than anyone else.

The door to my trailer opens without warning, and I look up to find one of the assistant directors standing in the doorway, clipboard in hand.

"Melody, they're ready for you on set," she says, voice efficient, but with a hint of anxiety.

"Right," I mutter, throwing my jacket over my shoulder and walking past her. I don't need to be told twice; I can already feel Jared's presence looming in the back of my mind. The last thing I want to do today is have another one of our little confrontations, but I can't avoid him forever.

I step onto the set, the sound of bustling crew members filling the air. And there he is, standing with the lighting crew, looking annoyingly confident. Jared catches my eye and the smirk is already in place. Of course, it is.

"Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," he calls out, his voice smooth and teasing. "Didn't keep you up too late last night, did I?"

I keep walking, forcing myself to focus on the set ahead of me. "You wish," I mutter, not giving him the satisfaction of responding to his bait.

But Jared's persistence is relentless. He falls into step beside me, and despite my best efforts to ignore him, I can feel his proximity, that unnerving ease he carries with him everywhere he goes.

"You know," he says casually, "I've been thinking. Last night's scene wasn't bad. Not great, but not bad. We could've done better. Don't you think?"

I stop in my tracks, turning to face him. "We didn't do anything wrong," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. "You just can't seem to take a hint. The chemistry you're talking about? It's just the script."

Jared smirks, unfazed by my attempt to shut him down. "Oh, it's more than the script, sweetheart. I know you felt it. You can't fake that kind of energy. Besides, it's not just me. The whole set feels it."

I cross my arms over my chest, trying not to let his confidence get under my skin. "Well, maybe the whole set can buy into your little act, but I'm not here for it."

"Who says I'm acting?" he asks, leaning in just a little closer. "Maybe I'm just telling you the truth. But, hey, I'll give you time to catch up."

I don't even want to acknowledge the way his words make my pulse race. "Don't flatter yourself," I say, my voice tight with irritation. "I'm not interested in whatever game you're playing."

Jared grins, clearly not offended in the slightest. "That's fine. But just so you know, everyone else is interested. And sooner or later, you'll figure that out."

Without waiting for me to respond, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, the weight of his words hanging in the air. I don't want to admit it, but I'm not as unaffected as I'd like to think.

I take a deep breath, pushing the thoughts of him to the back of my mind as I head toward my position on set. The camera crew is ready, the director gives the signal, and I slip into character, trying to bury everything beneath layers of professionalism.

But the second the scene begins, I feel it again—his eyes on me, his presence too damn close, even when he's just saying his lines. And despite myself, despite the walls I've built, I can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Jared is right about one thing: there's something here. And I'm not sure if I want to fight it anymore.

Chapter 3: Breaking the Act

The scene goes on like any other, but it feels like a string pulled taut, too tight to snap. Jared's proximity doesn't help. He stands too close during every take, his voice laced with that teasing, unbothered charm. I stick to the script, but the words feel foreign in my mouth, forced. Every time he looks at me, it's like he's daring me to break, daring me to feel something real.

I'm not supposed to be feeling anything. This is just a job.

By the time the director calls for a break, I'm exhausted. I need space, a moment to breathe without Jared looming around every corner. I duck into my trailer, slam the door shut behind me, and sink onto the couch, burying my face in my hands.

I need to get my head in the game.

The sound of footsteps outside the trailer pulls me from my thoughts. I look up just as the door creaks open, and I immediately tense up. I know that stride. Jared.

"Got a minute?" His voice, low and casual, floats in, and I feel the familiar knot tighten in my chest.

I don't answer him at first, just stare at the door, pretending I didn't hear him. But of course, Jared doesn't take no for an answer. He steps in, closing the door behind him without waiting for permission.

"Melody," he says, leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed. "You can't hide in here forever."

I don't look at him. "What do you want, Jared?"

"Just checking on you." He steps closer, still so damn confident. "You looked a little tense out there. Thought maybe we could talk about it."

I roll my eyes. "Talk about what? You're not as interesting as you think you are."

He chuckles, a sound that's more knowing than amused. "Oh, I think you're more interested than you're letting on. But hey, I'll play along. You're a tough nut to crack, I get it."

I'm not in the mood for his games today. "I'm not here for you to crack, Jared. This isn't some challenge for you to win."

His smile doesn't falter, but there's something in his eyes that almost looks... serious. No, that's impossible. Jared's never serious.

"You know, you're good at pretending, I'll give you that," he says, his voice quieter now. "But I can see through it. You don't have to keep up the act with me."

I finally look up, meeting his gaze for the first time in a while. There's something about his expression that stops me in my tracks. It's not playful or teasing, not the usual cocky façade. For a split second, I almost feel like I'm talking to someone else—someone real.

"Don't flatter yourself," I mutter, but my voice doesn't sound as sharp as it did a moment ago.

Jared tilts his head, his eyes searching mine like he's trying to piece something together. "I'm not flattering myself, Melody. I'm just telling you the truth. There's something here. And I think you know it too."

The air in the room shifts, the weight of his words settling between us. I swallow, trying to push it all back, but it's no use. The tension is palpable, thick enough to suffocate. I stand up, suddenly feeling trapped in the small space.

"I don't have time for this," I snap, trying to regain control of the situation. "We're here to work, not play games."

Jared steps closer, but this time, he doesn't invade my personal space. He just stands there, his gaze steady and unwavering. "You're not fooling anyone, Melody. Especially not me."

I feel my chest tighten. The way he looks at me—it's like he sees right through every wall I've built, every layer of defense I've wrapped around myself. And that terrifies me more than I want to admit.

I take a step back, my breath a little shallow. "I'm not some... not some game for you to win."

"I never said you were," he replies quietly, a touch of softness in his voice that I didn't expect. "But maybe you should stop pretending like you don't care. Because I know you do."

I stand there, caught between wanting to walk away and something inside me urging me to stay. To hear what else he has to say. But I don't. Instead, I gather the little bit of control I have left and walk to the door, opening it before he can say another word.

"I'm done here," I say, my tone final. "We'll finish the scene when I'm ready."

Jared doesn't follow me, and doesn't try to push. He just watches me, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. And as I step out, I feel his gaze linger on my back, heavy and constant.

I don't know what's worse—the fact that I can't stop thinking about him, or that I'm starting to wonder if he's right.