"Are we there yet?" Nate asked for the third time, peeking out of the car window as rows of buildings gave way to a busier stretch of central London. He wasn't trying to be annoying, but the nerves were very real, and for once, acting like an actual 8-year-old helped sell it.
"Almost," his dad, Richard, replied patiently, adjusting the rearview mirror. "You're more jittery than my patients before a flu jab."
"Can you blame me?" Nate mumbled, brushing invisible lint off his new polo shirt. "This is Cadbury. Like... legendary levels of chocolate."
In truth, he wasn't just excited. He was invested. This wasn't just about sugary treats or TV fame. It was £1,500 for one ad—he'd overheard the casting call mention it. That was the start of a stockpile. Literally. With BP and Barclays still bouncing from last year's financial madness, he had plans. Big ones.
"Just be yourself," his mum, Claire, piped up from the passenger seat. "You've got a lovely smile. And remember—don't eat everything on set."
Nate gave her an exaggerated gasp. "Mum! That's slander. Rusty ate that cookie!"
Claire snorted. "And drama, apparently. Perfect for this gig."
The casting studio wasn't as glamorous as Nate had imagined. Fewer velvet couches, more white walls and adults holding clipboards with an air of exhausted indifference.
Dozens of kids buzzed around the waiting room—some bouncing off the walls, others too shy to meet anyone's gaze. Nate took a seat, trying to tune it all out. You've done this before, he told himself. Stunt work. Background acting. Explosions. This is just... cocoa-based dialogue.
"Taylor, Nathaniel?" a woman with short curly hair called out, clipboard in hand.
He stood quickly, offered a nervous grin, and followed her inside. The room was well-lit, and in front of him sat three people behind a table, one of whom looked like he hadn't slept in a week. The director, Nate assumed.
"Hey there, Nathaniel," the man said, voice tired but kind. "You like chocolate?"
"I mean, I'm not legally allowed to marry it, but yes," Nate said, then immediately winced. Too much? Maybe. But the table snorted, and the director chuckled.
"Alright, let's run it once. Pretend you've just bitten into a Cadbury bar for the first time and it's the best thing you've ever tasted. Then say, 'Cadbury—melts in your mouth, not your hands.'"
Nate took the sample bar, unwrapped it slowly, and took a theatrical bite.
His eyes widened. "Mmmph. Mmm. Oh my god, what is this magic?! Did an angel just punch me in the taste buds?!"
The room burst into laughter. He gave the line a beat and then said, with perfect pacing: "Cadbury—melts in your mouth, not your hands."
The director blinked. "You're eight?"
"Chronologically."
That got a full belly laugh from the clipboard woman.
Back in the Car
"That went well," Claire said as Nate climbed into the backseat.
"I think I crushed it," Nate said, wiggling his eyebrows. "But I might've also weirded them out. Not sure."
They didn't have to wait long to find out. Two days later, the phone rang, and Claire nearly dropped it from excitement.
"He got it!" she beamed, eyes wide. "They want to shoot the ad this weekend!"
Richard ruffled Nate's hair. "Look at you, Mr. Commercial Star."
Nate tried to keep calm, but inside? Pandemonium. Step one, complete. Let's ride.
On Set
The ad was to be filmed at a small studio outside London. Nate arrived early, accompanied by his mum and a very excited Rusty (who, sadly, was not allowed inside).
The set was adorable—a candy-colored living room with a faux couch, oversized props, and a spotlighted table for the "big bite" moment.
"Alright, Nate," said the director, whose name he now knew was Simon Greene. "Same vibe from the audition, but this time, we've got cameras rolling. Just relax and hit your mark. We'll do a couple takes."
Nate nodded, took a deep breath, and got into position.
"Speed... and action!"
He peeled the wrapper dramatically, took a slow bite, and let his face shift into pure bliss.
"Cadbury—melts in your mouth, not your hands."
"Cut!" Simon said. "Perfect! Let's do it again with a slightly more surprised look this time."
They did eight takes total, Nate adjusting with every note. The crew was impressed. One cameraman even whispered to another, "Kid's got timing."
Simon approached him during a break. "You're good, Nate. Really good. Most kids freeze or try too hard. You just... get it."
"Thanks, sir," Nate said, sipping water from a paper cup. "I just really like chocolate."
Simon laughed. "If anything else comes up that suits you, we'll give your mum a call. Keep your weekends open, yeah?"
"Totally," Nate said, heart hammering with excitement. This is it. My in.
They wrapped up by late afternoon. Claire signed the forms, and Nate's eyes nearly popped when he saw the pay listed.
"£1,500," she whispered. "For one day of filming."
"That's more than some people make in a month!" Nate whispered back, clutching the copy of the invoice like it was sacred.
They got hot chocolate from a café nearby to celebrate, and Nate couldn't stop bouncing in his seat. The sugar didn't help.
"You're proud of me?" he asked, looking up at his mum.
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Always."
Back home, Nate spread out on the floor with Rusty, a goofy grin plastered across his face. The purple Cadbury bar wrapper sat beside him like a trophy.
Richard came in, loosened his tie, and flopped onto the couch. "So our boy's officially in the biz."
"I'm thinking an agent next," Nate joked.
Claire raised an eyebrow. "Let's just focus on school first."
"School and stardom," Nate said dreamily. "Multitasking is very 90s."
Richard laughed. "You just remember to stay grounded, kiddo."
"I am grounded. Emotionally. Spiritually. Physically—because I'm eight."
They all laughed, and for a moment, it wasn't about investments or schemes or 2025 knowledge. It was just… fun.