Chapter Text
The set was alive with the usual hum of activity, lights flashing, people moving about, and the sound of the director giving instructions. Freen sat on the edge of the stage, fiddling with her phone, half-heartedly checking for any messages. Her thoughts, however, weren’t on the upcoming scene or the constant buzz of the set. They were on Becky.
She watched her across the room, chatting and laughing with the crew, completely at ease. There was something magnetic about the way Becky interacted with everyone, the effortless charm she exuded without even trying. Becky’s smile, the sound of her laughter—it filled the space in a way that Freen couldn’t help but be drawn to. She never seemed to need to be anyone other than herself.
Becky caught her eye from across the room, her lips curling into a knowing grin, and Freen quickly looked down, feeling the warmth of her cheeks. She couldn’t help it—whenever Becky looked at her like that, it was as if everything around them faded into the background.
“Ready for rehearsal, Freen?” the assistant director called, snapping her back into focus.
Freen stood, giving a small nod, brushing off the light distraction as she walked toward the set. She adjusted her costume as she went, forcing her mind to shift back into work mode. The scene was simple enough—just another quick interaction between their characters—but it always felt different when they were together. Their rehearsals were smooth, like they’d done this a hundred times, and Freen always found herself paying more attention than necessary to how Becky moved, how she looked at her, how her laugh filled the space when she was supposed to be focusing on her lines.
As she reached Becky, she gave her a playful smile. “Looks like you're the life of the party again, huh?”
Becky gave a soft chuckle, her eyes sparkling with that same easy confidence that always left Freen both impressed and, oddly, unsettled. “I just try to keep things light. Everyone works harder when they’re enjoying themselves, right?”
Freen only half-listened, her gaze drawn to the subtle way Becky’s lips curled when she spoke, the effortless poise in her posture, how everything about her seemed so naturally captivating. She knew it was silly, but sometimes it felt like Becky was a force of nature, somehow making everything around her better. Freen wasn’t sure why it always affected her this way, but it did.
“Alright, ladies,” the director called, signaling for them to begin. Freen took her position, trying to focus, trying to push away the distracting thoughts that always crept up when she was near Becky.
As the scene began, she couldn’t help but notice the way Becky’s presence filled the space. It wasn’t just about the acting—it was about the way Becky existed in every moment. Her movements were fluid, natural, as if everything she did was effortless. Her voice, rich and steady, seemed to fill the air around them, and Freen couldn’t help but marvel at how easily Becky commanded the room.
There was something magnetic about her. Freen tried to ignore the tug she felt whenever their eyes met or when they shared a laugh in between takes. It wasn’t anything. She was just… drawn to her. There was no harm in that, right? After all, she had James. She had been with him for years, and she cared for him deeply. But there was a pull toward Becky that she didn’t fully understand.
“Cut!” The director’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
Freen blinked, quickly composing herself. She smiled at Becky, who was already walking toward her with that familiar grin.
“You were great, as always,” Becky said, her tone light but warm. There was something in the way she spoke, as if she truly appreciated every moment they shared on set, as if they were a team.
“Yeah, you were too,” Freen replied, the words coming out a little quieter than she intended. She shifted her weight slightly, her fingers brushing against the side of her costume, as if she were searching for something to ground her.
Becky leaned in, her voice dropping to something softer, more personal. “You okay? You seemed a little distracted today.”
Freen laughed it off quickly, almost too quickly. “Yeah, just… a little tired, I guess. It’s been a long shoot.”
But in truth, it wasn’t just exhaustion. There was a kind of restlessness that Freen couldn’t quite shake, a feeling that, despite being surrounded by so many people, she was always acutely aware of Becky’s presence. It was as if every moment with her felt more intense, more significant.
And that was strange—because she didn’t need this, not when she had James, right? She shouldn’t be so drawn to Becky.
But the way Becky looked at her now, with that soft smile and those bright eyes, made everything seem easy, as though it didn’t matter. The feeling lingered, and for a second, Freen wanted nothing more than to stay in that space with her, just a little longer.
As the last take wrapped for the day, the crew buzzed around them, packing up equipment and discussing tomorrow’s shoot. Freen felt a mix of relief and anticipation; the day had been long, but being near Becky had left her energized in ways she didn’t fully understand.
Becky slung her bag over her shoulder and turned to Freen with a small, knowing smile. “Need a ride home?”
Freen chuckled softly, her fingers grazing the edge of her phone. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, considering my car’s still in the shop.”
“Lucky for you, I’m an excellent chauffeur,” Becky teased, motioning toward the exit. “Let’s go before someone ropes us into overtime.”
They walked side by side to Becky’s car, the cool evening air brushing against their skin. Freen couldn’t help but notice the subtle way Becky’s shirt clung to her shoulders, the graceful confidence in her stride. Even the simple act of unlocking the car seemed to carry an ease that Freen found frustratingly captivating.
As they got into the car, Becky adjusted her seatbelt and glanced at Freen. “Comfortable?”
Freen nodded, though her focus lingered on the way Becky’s hands rested on the steering wheel—steady, sure, and effortlessly in control.
The drive home was quiet at first, but the silence felt charged, as if words hung between them, waiting to be spoken. Freen found herself stealing glances at Becky—her sharp profile illuminated by the streetlights, the way her fingers tapped lightly against the wheel in time with the faint music playing in the background.
“You’ve been quiet,” Becky said after a while, her tone soft but curious. “Something on your mind?”
Freen hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Not really,” she lied, though her restless energy betrayed her.
Becky gave her a sideways glance, her lips quirking into a small, knowing smile. “If you say so.”
As they pulled up to Freen’s building, Becky parked the car and turned to her. The gentle concern in her eyes made Freen’s chest tighten.
“You should rest,” Becky said, her voice warm and steady. “It’s a good thing you’ve got tomorrow off. You’ve been working nonstop lately.”
Freen smiled faintly, the corners of her lips curving upward as her heart fluttered at Becky’s care. “I’ll try,” she said softly, though she knew sleep would be elusive tonight.
Becky’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, her expression tender. She reached out, her hand brushing against Freen’s lightly before pulling back. “Good. I want you to take care of yourself.”
Freen swallowed hard, her throat tightening as she nodded. “Drive safe, okay?”
“Always,” Becky replied, her voice low and reassuring.
Freen stepped out of the car and turned back, their eyes meeting through the open window. She wanted to say something more, to hold onto the moment, but the words escaped her. Instead, she gave Becky one last smile before heading inside, the warmth of Becky’s presence lingering like a second skin.
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As Freen leaned against the door of her apartment, she exhaled slowly, her mind replaying every moment. Every look, every word, every small touch seemed to carry a weight that she couldn’t ignore.
Becky wasn’t just someone she worked with. She was becoming something far more significant, a presence that made everything else feel less certain and yet, somehow, more alive.
She couldn’t help but think about the way Becky had looked at her, the way her voice had softened when she spoke, and the way her care had felt so unshakably real.