POV: Seraphina Lark
Two weeks have passed since the little drama with Rafael in the script reading room—and since my bold confession to my friends. Things have been… surprisingly good. There's been a lot of bonding, and Lyra's relationship with Callum is blooming. I love this for her.
After my confession, the floodgates opened. Turns out, Amira has been hooking up with Preshant. Shocking, right? Preshant, as in Rafael Lee's best friend. And guess what? Callum is also part of their close-knit crew. It's like all my girls are dating guys from the same friendship circle—and then there's me, stuck in this twisted, confusing situationship with Rafael.
Oh, and get this—Luna is currently involved with an actual Italian mafia guy. Kieran Massimo. That shit is wild, but also hot. And the biggest bombshell? Freya is hooking up with Dante Kim—Lyra's brother. Yup. All these connections, all this tension. And I'm the one who can't seem to get her one-night stand out of her head.
Anyway, today's our first day on set. I'm at the studio, fully in work mode. The scene we're filming is pretty demanding. I'm giving it my all, but Rafael? He's seriously lacking. So much for professionalism.
Today's script requires us to play lovers—complete with kissing, touching, and intense flirting. We've run through the same scene like twenty times because the director keeps yelling, "More chemistry! More tension!" Yeah, okay, sir. That's exactly what we don't need right now. Or maybe it is. Because Rafael won't stop staring at me, and that gaze? It's doing things to me. Dangerous things.
His eyes feel like they're burning through me, making my blood rush in all the right ways.
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POV: Rafael Lee
We've been filming the same damn scene for hours and the director is still not satisfied. How much chemistry does he want? I'm trying to be professional here, but every time she looks at me with those soft eyes—or touches me, or presses those full, soft lips to mine—I lose a piece of the wall I've built.
She doesn't know what she's doing to me. God, I hope she never figures it out.
Last time I let someone affect me this much, it shattered me. Worst heartbreak of my life. It ruined everything. That's why I can't let her in. I won't. I have to stay cold. Stay guarded.
After shooting wraps up, everyone lingers around the studio, chatting, laughing, getting to know each other. She's standing at the edge of the room talking to some guy—and she's laughing. That laugh. I've never heard her laugh like that with me.
Wait... am I jealous?
No. No way. She can talk and laugh with whoever she wants. I don't care. I don't.
Except… that laugh is echoing in my head. And my body's reacting in ways I don't approve of.
I'm pulled out of my thoughts by the buzzing of my phone. It's Preshant.
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POV: Seraphina Lark
Today was hectic. Stressful. But I'm glad the shoot went well overall.
I'm back home, sprawled across my bed when Freya bursts in like a whirlwind.
"We're going out. You need to decompress," she says.
God, I love my friends.
I throw on light makeup, a white polo, and blue jeans—simple but cute. We drive in a convoy to a high-end restaurant. Amira already made a reservation in the VIP section.
We eat. We laugh. And then, because I'm me, I bring him up. Rafael.
"It's so damn hard working with him," I confess. "Pretending I don't want him… when I do. And he's so cold. So distant."
"Girl, don't catch feelings," Freya warns, touching my arm. "He gives off major player energy. I don't want to see you hurt."
"Well, he's hot. How can she not catch feelings?" Luna teases, winking at me.
"You only care about hot guys," Lyra shoots back, rolling her eyes at Luna. "That's why you always end up with broken ones."
We all laugh, but Amira's tone softens the mood.
"Look, he's not worth the emotional rollercoaster," she says. "If he doesn't want something real, don't let him toy with you. Or I swear, I'll kill someone."
I love them. My ride-or-dies.
As I listen to their advice, my mind drifts back to earlier at the studio. The corridor. I was leaning against the wall. He stood close—too close.
"You did great today," he said, his voice low.
And then… he leaned in.
I swear my heart stopped. My eyes fluttered shut, butterflies dancing like crazy in my stomach, singing hallelujah.
But he didn't kiss me.
He pulled away. Leaving me breathless. Confused. Wanting.
Cruel. Absolutely cruel.
If he had just followed through, maybe we could've finally stopped pretending. Maybe we could've taken it somewhere private and released all this tension. All this heat.
Because the truth is—we're both obsessed. And no matter how hard we try to act like we're not, the fire between us only grows stronger.