Chapter 8

imone never wasted time. The second she declared she was going to talk to Rowan, she was on her feet and striding for the door like she’d been waiting her whole life for this assignment.

“Wait—Simone!” I called after her, but she only waved me off.

Lila muttered under her breath, “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Naomi stayed calm, though the corners of her mouth twitched like she was fighting a smile. “Breathe, Celeste. She knows what she’s doing.”

I groaned, dragging my hands over my face. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

Across the soundstage hallway, Rowan leaned against a vending machine, water bottle in hand, flipping through her script with the kind of casual focus that made it impossible to tell if she was actually reading or just letting the words blur.

Simone approached without hesitation, her heels clicking like punctuation marks. She stopped in front of Rowan, crossed her arms, and tilted her head.

“Rowan Hart.”

Rowan looked up, one brow lifting in amusement. “And you are?”

“Simone Clarke,” Simone said smoothly. “Screenwriter. Friend of Celeste’s. Occasional truth-teller. Depends on the day.”

Rowan’s mouth quirked into a smile, faint but genuine. “Should I be flattered or worried that you came all the way over here to introduce yourself?”

“Both,” Simone replied. “I wanted to see where your head’s at. Because whatever just happened out there?” She gestured loosely toward the soundstage. “That wasn’t just good acting. That was… different.”

Rowan’s smirk faded, replaced by something more cautious. She twisted the cap on her water bottle slowly, her voice quieter when she finally answered.

“It’s not just a part for me,” she admitted. “I feel something when I’m with her. But I don’t even know how to word it. It’s like… everything makes sense when we’re in it. And then it doesn’t make sense at all, because we haven’t even talked to each other outside of reading the damn script.”

Simone tilted her head, intrigued. “So you’re saying it’s real?”

Rowan exhaled, her jaw tightening. “I don’t want to screw this up. This is a really big part for me, and I don’t want her thinking I’m just… reckless. But I can’t pretend I don’t feel it, because I do. Every time.”

For once, Simone didn’t smirk. She studied Rowan for a long moment, her expression softening just a fraction. “That’s honest,” she said finally. “Messy, but honest.”

Rowan let out a quiet laugh. “Story of my life.”

But when Simone didn’t move, just watched her steadily, Rowan’s eyes flicked past her — toward the hallway, like she could already sense me standing there unseen. Her voice dropped to something almost too soft to hear.

“Tell her she doesn’t have to be scared of me,” Rowan murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Simone’s smirk returned, bright and triumphant. “Oh, I’m definitely telling her that.”

Back in the dressing room, I was pacing by the vanity when Simone finally strolled in. Lila and Naomi sat up straighter immediately, waiting like wolves about to be fed.

“Well?” I blurted before she’d even closed the door.

Simone dropped onto the couch, stretching out like she had all the time in the world. “First of all, you owe me. I just had the most fascinating chat.”

“Simone,” I snapped.

She grinned. “Relax. She’s not playing you, Celeste. It’s not just a part for her. She said she feels something when she’s with you. She couldn’t even put it into words. Told me it’s like everything makes sense when you’re in it… and then it doesn’t, because you two haven’t even talked outside of reading the damn script.”

My breath caught. “She actually said that?”

“Verbatim,” Simone said, clearly enjoying my unraveling. Then her smirk softened, just slightly. “She doesn’t want to screw this up. Said it’s a big role for her, but she can’t pretend she doesn’t feel it, because she does. Every time.”

Lila let out a low whistle. Naomi’s calm gaze flicked to me, patient but sharp.

I collapsed into the vanity chair, covering my face with both hands. “Oh my god.”

Simone leaned forward, her grin back in full force. “And she told me to tell you something: you don’t have to be scared of her. Because she’s not going anywhere.”

The room went quiet, my pulse roaring in my ears.

Three minutes later, a knock came at the door.

Three soft taps. Steady. Unhurried.

Lila and Simone exchanged wide-eyed looks. Naomi only arched a brow, folding her hands in her lap.

I froze, staring at the door like it might burst open.

Another knock.

“Celeste?” Rowan’s voice, low and certain, filtered through the wood.