you read simone's first line—something about wedding cake flavors and compromise— and it comes out fine. technically fine. you find the rhythm, deliver it the way you've delivered a thousand lines before. but you're not there. you can feel yourself floating somewhere above your body, watching yourself perform rather than being in it.

it's not nerves— it's something else. something that feels almost protective, almost intentional. almost like self-sabotage. and you weren't stupid; you'd been in enough films and projects to know a bad crew when you met them. you didn't feel that from the many faces in the room. it didn't help that amelie was a younger black woman in an industry full of the exact opposite— it would've been an immediate yes from you in any other circumstance. but deep down you craved your break.

and you knew that showing no chemistry with jaafar was a sure way to keep it.

adding on to the water dispenser and the turning pages, you start to notice the executive who clicks his pen repeatedly. the way the sunlight reflects across the table. the loose thread in the chair that your fingers keep finding.

jaafar responds as theo, his voice affable and easy. you can feel him leaning into the scene in a way you're not quite matching. he's more present and engaged, while you can't even meet his eyes.

you keep them on the script, in fact— tracking the words. when it calls for simone to be frustrated, you add a little edge to your voice. when it calls for simone to speak quietly, you drop your volume and soften your tone. all the right choices, but there's no real heat behind it.

the two of you fall into a back and forth of dialogue. you pretend as if you're speaking to a brick wall, not acknowledging the realness of his presence as a way to stay in your head.

a warmth starts to spread up the back of your neck as jaafar reads his last lines. he tries to catch your eye during a pause, you can feel him looking, but you stay focused on the page. biting your lip, you tap your index and middle finger against your thigh as the scene comes to an end. there's a polite beat of silence before—

"great," amelie says, and you can hear the slight hesitation in her voice. you can't bring yourself to look up from the script. "let's move on to scene forty-two. page fifty-three."

you nod, flipping ahead. your throat feels tight. you know that wasn't your best work. you know you held back. it was of your own volition, but you can't help but feel a little embarrassed. jaafar shifts beside you, adjusting his position to see what scene was up next.

as you turn the final few pages, a small voice in your head is screaming. what the hell were you doing? you could have just done it. the scene was good, the writing was good, jaafar was great—well, as far as you could tell—and you deliberately chose to phone it in. and for what? to protect some imaginary finish line?

and oh god, what would it mean for jaafar if you fucked this up? would his offer be dropped, passed along to a different set of actors?

you take a deep breath, blowing it out as slowly and quietly as possible as you sneak a glance at jaafar. he sits with both elbows on the arm-rest, hands interlocked in front of him. your gaze drifts back up to his face; you're so close to him that you can see the small birthmark above his right eyebrow.

as if he can sense you looking, jaafar's head turns slightly.

your heart absolutely drops, bracing yourself for anger or frustration... though you're only met with a slow, small smile.

you wonder if he knew you'd purposefully given him nothing to work with as you give a hesitant smile in return.

if he did, he wasn't upset about it.

in scene forty-two, simone and theo are in the middle of wedding chaos— dealing with seating charts, floral arrangements, and a timeline that keeps getting more complicated. they're surrounded by the wedding party: bridesmaids and groomsmen who all have strong opinions. this scene is lighter than the first.

"whenever you're ready," amelie says again.

you internally will the self-sabotaging away and start. simone's trying to be diplomatic, trying to navigate too many voices. "okay, so if we put uncle charles at table seven—"

"—he's gonna complain about being too far from the bar." the casting assistant, frank's voice cuts in.

you stop in your tracks, face carefully blank.

frank's voice is deep. unexpectedly deep— and completely deadpan.

"and if we put him at table three," frank continued in his monotone, unnaturally deep baritone. "he's gonna complain about being too close to the cello."

another groomsman, still frank, turns to simone to say, "yeah, uncle charles is going to complain no matter where we put him."

your lips twitch, but you successfully manage your facial expressions as you continue with the scene. jaafar joins in with theo's opinions and you mentally pat yourself on the back for looking at him when the script calls for it; moving with your lines as you grow more comfortable with passing time.

frank shifts in his chair and clears his throat before his voice suddenly pitches up— high and exaggerated. in an emotionless cadence: "girl! at this point we should just put him in the parking lot and call it a damn day."

you try your hardest to hold it in. you really do. but frank delivers the line with the same energy someone would use to read a eulogy. as if that wasn't enough, you peak at jaafar in an attempt to stay in character,

only to find him staring at the wall straight across from him, hand swiping under his nose to hide the beginning of a laugh. he drops his hand and rolls his lips between his teeth, glancing around the room before his eyes land on you. jaafar quickly turns back to the wall as his eyes squint with the effort of holding his laugh back.

but you drop your chin to your chest and the laugh bursts out of you before you can stop it. a real one, the kind that makes your shoulders shake and your hand fly up to cover your mouth.

jaafar breaks immediately after. his laugh is quieter, but just as genuine, and when you finally look at him—actually look at him—his eyes are crinkled at the corners and he's shaking his head.

the whole room is laughing now; even the executive cracks a smile. frank just sits there looking mildly annoyed. amelie is the first to reel in her laughter, beaming at the casting assistant across the table, "frank, you're doing amazing, sweetie. let's restart."

you're still giggling, oblivious to jaafar grinning at you from your left, as you try to get back into character. finally looking up, you catch him and attempt to force the smile off of your face as to not laugh again.

"okay," you say, half to yourself, half to him. "okay, i'm good."

"you sure?" jaafar jokes— and there's a playfulness in his voice that wasn't there before. you feel something in your chest loosen. "no," you admit, "but let's try anyway."

the two of you share a final grin before restarting the scene. this time, it's different.

you let yourself lean into the chaos of it. you play simone's exasperation bigger, letting your voice climb in pitch as the wedding party (again, frank) keeps throwing problems at you. jaafar jumps in at the perfect moments and your rhythm clicks into place. you're not floating in your surroundings anymore. you're fully present, actually listening and reacting in real time instead of just waiting for your next line.

when simone gets flustered trying to explain the difference between orchids and gardenias to a groomsman, theo softens his voice and tells her she's doing great. and jaafar delivers it with so much sincerity that you have to fight to not falter and break character. it's not perfect—you stumble over a line transition, and one pause lasts a few seconds too long as you two lose your place in the script— but it works.

the scene ends and amelie looks like she might start clapping. "yes. that's what i'm talking about. okay, one more. let's do scene sixty-seven."

jaafar begins to search for the page in the script, but you know this scene very well.

it's late at night. simone and theo have been working on wedding planning for hours— the venue issues have been settled, the caterer is confirmed, the timeline is printed and laminated. they're sitting on the floor of simone's apartment surrounded by various binders, sticky notes full of half-written thoughts, and half empty coffee cups. they've spent weeks working together nonstop, and somewhere in the chaos of it, something shifted between them. it's the scene where it all comes to the surface.

once again, you start. "i think we actually did it."

"yeah," jaafar's voice drops lower than it's been all morning. "i think we did."

there's a pause written into the script. a beat where they're both sitting there, exhausted and relieved and maybe a little sad that it's almost over. you use it to look down at the page, but you can feel jaafar shift beside you. his arm moves closer and the space between you feels smaller. you're hyper-aware of the warmth radiating from his body.

"your sister's gonna have the perfect wedding," jaafar says.

"because of you," your voice is softer now. "i couldn't have done this without you."

"you could've. you're—" jaafar stops. the script says [he looks at her. really looks at her]. "you're incredible, simone."

you feel the barrier between the two of you dissolve in real time.

the room doesn't disappear all at once. it's gradual, like someone slowly turning down the volume on everything else until all that's left is you and jaafar.

just simone and theo.

you're mirroring each other now— jaafar with his body angled so that his torso faces yours. you sit with your leg pulled under the other, attention fully on him. both of your forearms lay across the wooden table, ten fingers resting on opposite ends of the script, not touching.

you look down, then look up at jaafar through your eyelashes before replying as simone: "don't."

"don't what?" "don't say things like that." "why not?"

you break eye contact. the script says [she can't meet his eyes]. you don't look away from the page, but you feel the weight of his attention even without seeing it.

"because in two weeks the wedding will be over, and we'll go back to being... whatever we were before this."

jaafar leans towards you, tilting his head until he's in your line of vision. he waits for you to meet his eyes before continuing, "what if i don't want that?"

his eyes are dark and focused, and so intense that you feel like you've been pinned in place. his jaw is tight and there's a small crease between his eyebrows like he's concentrating. you've never seen him look so serious before.

you watch as his chest fall once. twice.

"this is a bad idea."

"probably," his voice is so low that you almost don't catch it. "but i don't care."

your heart is pounding so hard you're sure he can hear it.  the script calls for simone to protest, to say that he barely knows her. but for a second you forget your line entirely. you're too busy noticing the way his fingers move over the script, pointer finger rubbing against his thumb. the way that now, a muscle in his jaw twitches. he's still leaning in— close enough that you can smell the sandalwood and vanilla on his skin.

you deliver your line and jaafar's response comes without hesitation. he recites back details theo's noticed about her— how she likes her coffee, the way she organizes when she's stressed; he continues to list off her small habits that he's catalogued. jaafar pauses and you watch his throat as he swallows. "i know you, simone."

"what if this ruins everything?"

"what if it doesn't?"

the script says that theo reaches for simone's hand. jaafar doesn't move— actors don't typically follow physical movements in a chemistry read— but his pinky finger shifts on the script. just barely. just enough that it's now touching yours.

your breath catches as jaafar's eyes flicker down to where your hands are almost, but not quite, holding the script together, then back up to your face. the longer you look, the more you start to wonder— were his pupils dilated or was it the lighting making you see things?

"i'm scared," you admit, voice carefully breaking. raw in a way that makes you feel exposed, even as you play a character. "i am too," jaafar replies, "but i'd rather be scared with you than safe without you."

his words hang in the air between you. you hold his gaze, refusing to look away even as jaafar considers you like you're the only person in the room. 

"okay."

"okay?" he asks, like he needs confirmation, like he can't quite believe what you're saying.

"okay," you repeat, stronger this time. more certain.

jaafar's eyes drop to your mouth for just a fraction of a second as the script says [THEO's fingers thread through her hair as he draws her toward him. their kiss is soft at first, then deeper]. the look is so brief, you think you may have imagined it.

you don't kiss, but jaafar's pinky finger presses more firmly against yours on the script. neither of you move or look away as the scene ends.

around you, the room is completely silent. 

you exhale as you finally break eye contact and risk a glance around for the first time since beginning the scene. the studio executive has leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on the table, expression genuinely invested. the producers show their intrigue in various ways— a hand pressed to a chest, head held in their hands, focus completely on the two potential leads.

the casting director's smirk has grown even bigger as she leans back in her chair, shaking her pen between two fingers. frank's expression still reads as annoyed, though there's a hint of something underneath that just might be respect.

and amelie...

amelie's bright eyes shift between the two of you— jaw slightly dropped and a hand perched in front; a sorry attempt to hide it.

no one speaks for a few beats, before finally, amelie breaks the silence.

"well," she says quietly, and there's something almost reverent in her voice. "i think we got what we needed."

.✦ ݁˖

the chemistry read ends in a blur.

at some point, corinne and jaafar's agent are called in to talk deadlines and legalities with the producers and executives. amelie crosses over to you and jaafar as you both stand together, but separately.

amelie gives her regards to jaafar first and you wait to their right, pretending to look for something in your bag. you look up as they exchange a quick handshake before jaafar moves to his agent's side. amelie's hand finds your shoulder and squeezes gently.

"thank you," she starts, weight in those two words. "it— that was exactly what i hoped it would be."

your conversation with amelie fades into interactions with the producers, casting staff, and finally the studio executive— who shakes your hand with a declaration of 'great work!'. corinne appears at your side seconds later with the green light to leave, and a promise to call you and update you that night.

a glance around the room shows the last person left to say goodbye to is in a seemingly deep conversation with his agent. you go back and forth in your mind on interrupting— would he think you were rude if you pulled an irish goodbye?

you made up your mind quickly, pulling out your phone to check the time and scrolling through missed texts as you walked around the table toward the door.

"hey."

you startle and press a hand to your chest. jaafar is slightly in front of you now, reaching out to open the door and stepping aside with a guilty smile. "sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"oh, uh— you didn't," you lie, heart still racing underneath your palm. you put your phone away and walk back through the open door with a mumbled thank you. there's a good amount of space between you on your walk down the hall.

the elevator ride is quiet at first. you both stare at the pixelated numbers as they descend, and you can feel him stealing glances at you from his side of the cabin.

jaafar clears his throat, turning and angling his body toward you. "so, that was..."

"kind of intense?"

"yeah," he lets out a smaller version of his laugh earlier, a huff of breath really. "intense."

you risk a glance at him. he's looking down at his hands, turning his phone over and over in his hands. the elevator doors open and he reflexively holds an arm over the opening to prevent it from closing as you step out.

you wait until jaafar matches the slow walking pace you set before speaking again. "you were really good in there."

he looks over, and there's something shy in his expression. it's crazy, the difference between him performing as theo and him as the jaafar in this current moment.

"thank you. i mean—" he stops, shakes his head slightly. "you made it easy. to just... be in it, you know?"

your reply is quiet, a statement about how the feeling was mutual. about how you'd felt the ease of it too. there's a short silence before he speaks again, "what made you say yes? to coming in today? amelie mentioned you've been taking time off."

and because a half truth is better than a lie, you answer with: "mmm, mainly the script. i read it the first time and couldn't stop thinking about it after. about simone and just her life in general."

"she's a good character," jaafar nods slowly, like he's considering that. "she feels real."

"yeah, she does." you pause in the lobby, just a few feet away from the front door, and jaafar mirrors you. "what about you? why a rom-com after—."

you gesture vaguely at him and hope he understands what you're trying to say.

amused, the smile never really leaving his face, he replies, "i wanted something different. something lighter. the biopic will always be important to me, of course, but filming it was terrifying. i just wanted to make him proud and it made everything... heavy, almost."

"jaafar, i'm sure you made the whole fucking world proud. you were amazing," you look up at him, "can i tell you something i'll probably regret and hope you never bring up again?"

"hmm?"

"i wasn't joking when i said i'm half of those ticket sales," you look around the lobby in an exaggerated way before leaning in and whispering, "and i sobbed like a baby each time i watched the 'human nature' performance. my cousin probably has like five pictures of me in her phone with mascara running down my face."

jaafar's smile grows larger, dimple showing high in his cheek. "god, it was emotional for me to film too. it took a hell of a lot of takes." he leaned in slightly before joking, "and hypothetically, if i wanted to see picture proof—"

"over my dead body!" you cut him off, "those pictures will never see the light of day."

you start to walk again as jaafar nearly folds over himself laughing. he still manages to beat you to the door, holding it open for you to step out into the early afternoon heat first.

jaafar pulls his hat lower and throws a pair of sunglasses on as he steps out after you. it reminds you of your own pair and you pull them on as you walk towards your car.

he follows, a few feet to your right.

"how was your time off, though? did you get to rest? outside of reading scripts you weren't supposed to be reading."

you laugh, "honestly? i did a whole lotta nothing for once. reality tv, food, sleeping in, dog-sitting for one too many people, more reality tv, more food..."

"sounds perfect." jaafar agrees, "was it 'harbor' that made you want a break?"

your foot drags on your next step, though you catch yourself before tripping. blinking a few times behind your sunglasses, you look over at jaafar. 'harbor' was the show you were on for years that ended fairly recently.

he seems to realize what he'd admitted to seconds later.

"my uh, my brother— he loves it. he made me watch a few times," jaafar's head whips to face her, "not 'he made me', like it's a bad show! he 'made me', like he asked me to watch and i did and i lo—liked it."

you silently watch him stumble over his words with a small smile, "you're good. and thank you, i think? but yeah kind of. i spent years straight on the same show. barely any time off between seasons. by the end i was just, empty? like i didn't have anything left to give."

jaafar nods slowly, and there's understanding in his expression. "i get that. the press tour was only a few months long but by the end i felt like i'd talked about the same thing so many times that the words didn't even make sense anymore."

"exactly," you say, stretching the word out. "it's like you're performing even when you're not performing."

a silence falls over the two of you as you stand by your car, facing each other. though, it's not awkward. you feel almost a strange sense of camaraderie in the mutual feeling you found. the parking lot is quiet, outside of the distant hum of traffic and an occasional car door slamming from far off.

jaafar opens his mouth to speak, but a repeated buzzing fills the air. he pulls his phone out and glances at the screen, making a face. "my manager. he's probably wondering where i am."

"yeah. i should—" you, again, gesture vaguely at your car.

"right. yeah." jaafar takes a step back, putting even more space between you, but holding eye contact. "it was really, really good to meet you. get home safe."

"you too, jaafar."

you watch as he gives you one last smile and turns, heading in the direction of, you assume, his car. you think about wishing him good luck on getting the role... but who were you kidding?

he'd definitely gotten it.

and your break was definitely over.

at least, until after you finished filming a wedding rom-com.

-

you doubled as her dress up doll and client from a young age. you landed your first acting job, with your agent's help, at the age of eight: a low budget family-film following a girl who'd began to receive letters from fairies. it was a movie with terrible special effects that continued to haunt you, especially on social media, to this day. thankfully, it had been outshined by 'bridge to terabithia' shortly after its release.

there was no clean break between childhood and everything that came after. just years that filled themselves with scripts and call times. there was never really a gap between your offers—sometimes in supporting roles, sometimes loudly in leads that put your face on billboard and magazines— though you still tried to keep your private life as private as possible.

nineteen years later, you'd felt like the studios scattered throughout california had been your real home— and the penthouse suite in encino was just a placeholder. somewhere that held your name, but rarely held your body.

you loved the industry, but you could admit that you were tired. it was time for a break. in fact, you were a few months into one when you got the call.

the first warning was the time. 12:45 am stared back at you from the top left corner of the incoming facetime request. the second warning being just that: facetime. your agent stuck to regular phone calls and texts. sometimes, even emails. never video requests.

you slouched deeper into your couch unconsciously, fingers tapping against your thigh as you stared. you could see your reflection in the rectangular frame, lit up from the trashy reality show re-runs on your tv.

you considered letting the call run, but curiosity won before the ringing stopped.

when you accepted the call, the third warning herself sat at a wooden table with folded hands and a bright smile. corinne looked freshly pressed in a blazer and her hair tight curls into a low bun. the complete opposite of your oversized hoodie and mess of braids thrown onto the top of your head.

suspicious... it was nearly one in the morning and your agent looked like she had just met with an executive.

you didn't need a fourth, or even fifth, warning but they arrived with corinne's quick clap and excited promise of 'good news!'. your hope of it being a non-business conversation officially vanished.

"which corinne am i talking to right now?"

"i need you to keep an open mind—"

her voice stops mid-sentence as you tap the red button and shove the phone in your pocket, only for it to buzz again seconds later.

and buzz again after that attempt goes to voicemail.

you pull your phone out on the third call attempt and lean over the mound of blankets to toss it to the floor. there's silence for a handful of heartbeats before it restarts its incessant buzzing. the vibrations shift your phone gradually under the couch.

you feel your frustration building. this is not what you wanted to do on a tuesday night. what you wanted to do on a tuesday night hung across from you on the wall, paused in the middle of an over exaggeratingly emotional scene. you blindly reach for your phone and accept the call.

"you promised me at least six months off, corrine." you start, turning on the nearest lamp. the contempt was clear on your face. "it's been half of that."

but corinne shows no signs of hearing her. "listen, i think that you might really want to hear this."

your head dropped to the back of the couch. last year had been soul sucking— to put it politely. the main series you'd been cast in had finally wrapped after six long years. on top of that, between the end of filming and the start of promo, your most recent relationship had officially died. which, honestly, was a long time coming. but there was hardly time to celebrate between the ambush of interviews, photoshoots, and publicity events followed by even more interviews, photoshoots, and publicity events. corinne had been unreserved in her support of you when you brought up taking a hiatus.

you'd even tarted to have normal-ish days together! lunch dated with no mentions of contracts. spa days at corinne's home a few miles east, where corinne didn't check her email but one time. craft nights at your place. and your favorite: your late night movie viewings. between your re-watches of the recent michael jackson biopic and the influx of horror movies this summer— you were in movie heaven.

of course, all good things must come to an end.

"the studio wants you for a romantic comedy."

you fought the urge to hang up and turn the phone off. what part of hiatus didn't she understand? no, you had never done a rom-com before; not unless you counted the coming-of-age movie you were in nearly a decade ago. but you were sure this wouldn't be the last. there would be another opportunity— after you'd had your six months of peace and quiet. you let out a sigh and began to reject the offer as you moved to the kitchen.

"(name), listen," corinne emphasizes, "just listen before making any decision. this project is already greenlit. the studio isn't shopping around— they want you. it'll be a quick filming in cali. and a short location shoot."

"location shoot?"

"it's a wedding rom-com."

phone propped up against a vase full of peonies, you pulled a barstool up and sat at the kitchen island. you rubbed at your eyes immediately after. your sleep schedule was ruined, but that was your right. as a woman on a hiatus.

"yeahhh... respectfully, i'm gonna decline—"

"the male lead is already in discussions. they want a chemistry testing, but it's just procedural—"

your hand had already began to inch towards the bright red 'end' as you cut corinne off, "still declining, by the way."

"but you wouldn't if you would just listen to who they're hoping for—"

"— a man won't ever change my mind." you'd been a half second away from ending the call when corinne leaned forward suddenly, hands spread and face centered on the screen.

"it's jaafar."

your finger twitched, but still hovered in front of your phone. a satisfied smirk fell over your agent's face as she re-iterated, "jackson. jaafar jackson."

your arm fell flat against the island, the urge to hang up forgotten.

jaafar jackson.

now, don't take this the wrong way. it's not that you were in love with him— or even crushing. no! you didn't know him outside of what you'd seen in the biopic. which, obviously, wasn't much considering he was playing his uncle and not himself.

but your social media algorithm had begun to peak your interest. it must have been an offhand sentence about him spoken aloud, maybe about how much you loved the biopic around the third or fourth viewing, that made instagram recommend his account to you. that made twitter show that each day, another of your mutuals would follow him.

and it must have been your slight scroll through his account, that made him start to appear on your 'for you page' through accounts that have him tagged. you'd even seen the workout thumbnails of him from his personal trainers' page.

no, you didn't watch them. you swear.

you did, however, see how often they came up. different outfits, longer hair, leaner body, sharper facial structure. jaafar had trained long and hard for the role in every way, and put so much care into it. he'd represented the king of pop while simultaneously shining a spotlight on himself. you couldn't deny your admiration towards people who loved what they did and were good at it at the same time.

corinne watched as you leaned back in the barstool chair. "they think that you two are... the pairing."

you blinked once. twice. you hated to entertain this... but, "and he's aware and okay with this?"

"more than okay with it, though he has some reservations. he's never done anything like this before. the studio has been circling him since the biopic's release. girl, you haven't seen the hold he's had over the internet? jaafar is the new it boy. there's a long list of petitions on twitter for him to be casted in any and everything."

a soft hum left your lips as you grabbed your phone. the facetime call window shrinking to the corner as you pulled up twitter to confirm for yourself.

you wondered what kind of reservations he could have. you'd never watched an interview of his, but he seemed confident enough? he definitely had the drive to do whatever he put his mind to.

"obviously, there's no gun to your head. you can still decline. but like i said, they want a chemistry read. nothing needs to be accepted until offers are officially given."

"when do they want to meet?"

"thursday, first week of august." corinne looks up in thought, "about three weeks to read the script and think it over."

with a final agreement and corinne's lackluster attempt at hiding her excitement, the video call ends. an email notification appears within minutes.

FW: SILVERGATES PICTURES *CONFIDENTIAL- Script for Review + Chemistry Read Info

maybe, just maybe, your tuesday night plans could change.

you got to work in the kitchen; pulling a serving bowl out and filling it with mainly chocolate. you set up your tea kettle and leaned against the counter, scrolling through instagram. you didn't make it far before seeing a head of curly hair hidden beneath a hat, grey sweatpants, and a stretch band connecting him to that dreaded fuckign trampoline.

immediately exiting out of the app and putting your phone down, you decided to stare at a kitchen cabinet and wait. you needed to use social media less anyway.

when you'd finally settled back into your pile of blankets, you opened your email and began to skim through preliminary dates and times before finally seeing a link. the website to access the script had been passwotd protected. the script itself was watermarked on each page with the studio name and 'your name 'prepared for:' followed by your name.

you felt yourself hesitate when getting to the beginning of scene one and reminded yourself to take a deep breath. nothing was set in stone and you had plenty of time to decide if this would break your hiatus. honestly, you could dislike the script.

you could go to the chemistry read and dislike the directors and producers.

hell, you could go to the chemistry read and dislike jaafar jackson.

in a twisted way, all of that brought you enough comfort to start your first read of the script.

.✦ ݁˖

you loved the script.

you loved it so much that you stayed up until 5 that morning reading all 107 pages. you'd taken pauses throughout to squeal and kick your feet. you'd cried at a heartfelt scene where simone opens up about her past. you'd run a full lap throughout your apartment when simone and theo finally kissed on page 89. unable to contain your excitement.

then you remembered that you would potentially be playing simone when you were supposed to be on hiatus— your first real break in three years— and you forced yourself not to think about the script for a week. you closed your laptop, shoved it under your bed, and tried desperately to focus on anything else.

that week passed slowly. you found yourself right back on that password protected website— opening the script at home, on walks around your neighborhood, in line at the grocery store. the website had become the first suggestion every time you opened your browser and searched the internet.

your agent called to check in on a random wednesday afternoon and you, in an attempt to save face, claimed that you hadn't read the script yet. of course, your voice pitched up slightly when you lied— it always did— and corinne caught on immediately, calling you out. you weren't upset at being caught. not when it gave you an opportunity to talk about the story line. how the characters felt so real and lived in. how much you wish you had a theo in real life— someone who saw you for who you truly were beneath all the noise.

you hated that you loved the script. you hated how badly you wanted to bring simone to life, to inhabit this character who felt like she'd been written specifically for you. though, there was still a chance to save your hiatus— you had two things left to consider before making any final decisions.

the crew.

and jaafar.

.✦ ݁˖

the sixth of august arrived faster than you expected.

you chewed on your bottom lip as you shut the door to your car and glanced up at the beige building standing before you. it was unremarkable and easy to miss if you weren't looking for it. no flashy signs or logos. it looked like every other casting office in los angeles. you wondered if they designed it this way on purpose, to make figuring out upcoming movies and casts much more difficult for tabloids and gossip sites constantly hunting for information.

corinne met you halfway through the parking lot with a bump to your shoulder as a greeting. she was in the middle of a phone call, her voice professional, but turned to you with a thumbs up and a smile. her hand flipped to a thumbs down and frown before she raised her eyebrows in question and waited expectantly.

you laughed and responded with a thumbs up and an exaggerated grin/ you felt a little nervous, but your curiosity outweighed it by far.

inside, the receptionist directed you to a set of elevators. you drowned out corinne's phone call as you stepped inside and glanced behind you. the elevator cabin was made entirely of glass, giving you a perfect view of the city— los angeles skyline a glittering, sun-drenched sea of glass and steel. you turned your head back in time for the elevator doors to open to a waiting area.

sunlight poured through floor to ceiling windows overlooking the surprisingly empty parking lot, washing everything in a warm glow. a row of cream-colored chairs lined a wall beside a coffee station with paper cups stacked neatly next to a selection of teas and flavored creamers. you scanned the room discreetly but didn't recognize a single face amongst the bodies. a few people scrolled through their phones, one person rehearsed lines under their breath.

the door to a room down a short hallway opened just as you took a step toward the chairs. you turned to see a slightly older woman with thick, dark hair framing her face. her smile was immediate when seeing you standing near the elevators. she practically skipped over, raising a hand when she came closer.

"(name), good morning! we're so excited to have you here today," the woman uses both of her hands to shake yours, warm and welcoming. "can i get you anything before we head into the conference room? water? coffee?"

"thank you for having me," you stated politely before declining the offer, just slightly too nervous to drink anything at that moment. the woman introduces herself as amelie, the director, as you head back in the direction that she came from. your shoulders tense up at hearing this woman was the lead of this whole thing. first impressions were everything.

"you have no idea how long i've been trying to get my hands on you! busy woman you are," amelie says with an easy laugh. "not gonna lie, i was a little scared you weren't gonna show. wouldn't blame you— if i was on hiatus they'd have to send a swat team to drag me back to work."

the tightness in your shoulders eased. directors didn't usually lead with genuine enthusiasm; they led with agendas. there was no performance in amelie's warmth.

"that definitely would've been needed if i was on the beach somewhere," you joked in return, matching amelie's energy. you continued conversing on your short walk down the hallway, amelie asking about your recent projects and complimenting your work. framed posters from previous studio projects line the wall. as amelie opens the door for you to enter the conference room, you can see even more posters waiting to be viewed inside, a gallery of the studio's history.

in the middle of the room sits a long wooden table with black rolling chairs surrounding it. every chair is occupied but three- with one of the three being at the head of the table. at the other end of the table sits a man with a face that says he'd rather be anywhere but here, arms crossed and expression flat. four chairs line one side of the table: two men and two women, all with stacks of papers and open laptops in front of them. on the other side of the table sits the last two empty chairs.

completely centered. side by side. waiting.

you make your way around the table, shaking everyone's hands as you exchange greetings. two producers with opposing personalities , an extremely serious studio executive, and the sweet casting director who immediately made you feel at ease sit at the four seats. the grumpy man at the end is introduced as the casting assistant.

the muffled sound of an elevator ding sounds out right as you take your seat. amelie's smile grows even larger as she mumbles something about 'perfect timing' and rushes out.

the casting director— closest by far to your age— makes conversation with you while you wait. it doesn't take long for the door to open again, maybe two minutes at most.

it's almost as if the room molds and morphs itself to give him space when he walks in.

the photos online don't do him justice. he's much taller than you expected, though he moves around the room as if he's attempting to not seem so intimidating. you wonder if it's working for everyone else; if you're the only one just a little star struck by his presence.

jaafar's hair is slightly longer than it was when wrapping the michael press tour, soft curls peeking beneath his baseball cap. he holds a shy smile on his face as amelie very conspicuously cheers behind him—proud of herself and her team for putting jaafar and you in the same room, for making this chemistry read happen.

he starts to make his way around the table, starting at the casting assistant at the far end. jaafar gives everyone a polite smile and handshake as he introduces himself, his voice low and smooth. you finds your eyes drifting from the soft dimple in his cheek when he smiles to the way his arms look with his black crewneck pulled up to his elbow. you blink a few times and look away to gather your thoughts before glancing back over, trying to seem casual.

you rise from your chair as he rounds the table towards your seats, suddenly very aware of your posture. you smile and hold your hand out. "hi—" you feels herself waver as you make direct eye contact. "i'm (name). it's really nice to meet you."

"i'm jaafar. it's a pleasure to meet you," he replied in a soft, even tone, taking your hand in his to shake. his hand is warm and his grip is gentle.

"i loved the biopic—honestly, i think i might be responsible for at least half of the ticket sales."

jaafar looks surprised, lips parted and eyes following you as you shift from one foot to the other, before becoming bashful, "thank you. that means a lot coming from you. really."

a clap sounds throughout the room before amelie starts the meeting, pulling everyone's attention to the front. you, suddenly aware that your hands were still connected for several seconds too long, pulled away from jaafar before sitting. he followed your lead and sat beside you. you expect him to shift over to give you both more room, but he stays. you glance at him from the corner of your eye as he settles in and spreads his legs to get comfortable.

you were sure that your knees would bump if you shifted even slightly to the left.

as amelie talks about the expectations of the chemistry read and information about the characters themselves— their backstories, their motivations, their arc throughout the film—you reach for the lone script waiting on the table between you and jaafar.

at the exact same time as him.

you snatch your hand back instantly when your fingers brush and whisper, "uh…sorry, go ahead. i can pull it up on my phone." you reach for your back pocket, looking up when you hear something sliding closer to you.

jaafar had pulled the script to the very end of the table, but not towards him. the script now sat perfectly in the middle of you both. "we can share," he looks up at you suddenly, meeting your eyes. you watch as he lifts a hand to the back of his neck, "if that's okay with you?"

"oh... yeah. yeah, that's fine."

you let out a nervous laugh as jaafar's attention turns back to amelie and the script. looking around discreetly, you see that every person in this room had their own script copy in front of them; everyone but the two of you. as you go to look back at the script, you catch the expression of the casting director—

who had been watching you and jaafar with a slight smirk on her face and twinkle in her eye, clearly pleased.

and looked away as soon as she noticed you looking at her.

"—we're going to be looking at a few scenes from the second act. don't worry about being perfect. we're not looking for perfection." amelie opens her script and states the page number clearly. "we can start with scene thirty-six."

jaafar finds the page and smooths the stapled corner to make it flat before returning it to the middle, adjusting it so you can both see comfortably. you lean forward slightly, shoulders nearly touching, the space between you minimal.

"frank will be jumping in for the lines of missing characters," amelie continues. every head in the room turns to the casting assistant. the grumpy man who had barely spoken more than two words since you arrived. "(name). jaafar. whenever you're ready. take your time."

you glance at jaafar quickly before taking a deep breath and beginning.