The past few months had unfolded in a blur for Jesse—studio lights, long shoots, hectic schedules, and an unexplainable knot in her chest she pretended not to notice.
It all started the day Ashley introduced her to Tristan. Back then, Jesse thought nothing of it. Ashley had smiled too brightly, nudged her too conveniently, and kept inviting Tristan to every small hangout, rehearsal, and casual coffee run.
At first, Jesse assumed Ashley was helping her expand her circle—until the setups began.
The "accidental" double invites.
The conveniently cancelled plans that left only Jesse and Tristan.
The way Ashley would linger behind with an unreadable expression whenever Jesse laughed at Tristan's jokes.
Then Jesse found out the truth: Tristan was Ashley's cousin.
The realization didn't shock her—what shocked her was how forcefully Ashley kept pushing her toward him even after Jesse politely insisted she wasn't ready for anything serious. Ashley would brush it off and say, "Just one date. You never know."
But Jesse did know.
Something felt wrong.
Or maybe… something felt incomplete.
She didn't want to examine that feeling too closely.
---
THE PRESENT — THE STUDIO
The studio was buzzing this afternoon—bright lighting panels, makeup artists brushing past, cameras clicking, props scattered everywhere. The place smelled like coffee, setting spray, and stress.
Jesse stood near the equipment rack, watching Ashley on set. She was glowing, confident, centered—as if the stage had been shaped around her. And Tristan? He was here too.
Behind the camera.
Behind the lens.
Behind every forced date attempt these past weeks.
Tristan was the lead photographer today, moving with effortless charm, commanding everyone's attention with the flick of a wrist. Jesse hated to admit it, but he fit the role perfectly.
Jesse crossed her arms. She didn't understand why Ashley kept pushing them together.
Or why she didn't want Ashley to push anymore.
"Why don't you tell her you like her," a voice came from behind.
Jesse nearly jumped.
"Mike? What are you doing here?"
Mike shrugged. "Ain't I supposed to be here?"
"No, it's just— you rarely come to the shoots."
"Yeah, but don't try to run from the question."
He poked her shoulder.
"Just confess already."
"What are you talking about? I have a boyfriend."
She gestured vaguely toward Tristan.
"Mmhh." Mike turned and walked away, expression unreadable.
Jesse frowned.
"What's 'mmhh' supposed to mean?"
"If you're not guilty, why are you defending yourself?"
Mike grabbed a lighting kit and moved on.
Jesse blinked. Hard.
She looked back at Tristan—now adjusting a camera.
Then at Ashley—laughing on stage as she posed with another artist. The male model wrapped an arm around her waist, placing the other casually on her neck for a close pose.
Something twisted sharply in Jesse's chest.
MK would know what to do, she thought as she took out her phone.
She dialed.
"How's the party? Bored yet?" she asked.
"I brought Shriya with me," MK's voice came through.
"Ohh. By the way—how do you know when you like someone?"
MK didn't even miss a beat. "Who's the lucky guy?"
"Just answer."
MK laughed softly.
"You don't like when people get too close to them."
Then the line cut.
Jesse stared at her phone.
"What was that…?"
It didn't take long for MK's meaning to hit her.
Because when Jesse turned back toward the stage—she saw the male model's hand still on Ashley's waist, still on her neck, still too close, and Ashley leaning in for the perfect camera angle.
And Jesse felt it again.
That tug.
That pull.
That burning little spark under her ribs.
"Damn," she whispered.
She turned away, hands on her hips.
"Don't tell me I'm jealous."
Who me? Jealous? Why would I—
Her brain argued with itself.
Then why are you looking away?
Because the pose is inappropriate.
Or maybe… you're just jealous.
Jesse froze.
That last voice wasn't hers.
"Is that why you said no to me?"
She turned sharply.
Tristan.
"I—it's not what you think," she said, heart racing. Since when did she lose control of her inner voice so easily?
"It's okay," Tristan said gently. "At least I know why."
"Tristan—"
"She likes you too," he whispered. "Just tell her already."
"Sh-she does?" Jesse slapped her hand over her mouth. She'd just accidentally confessed out loud.
Tristan nodded once.
"Do you want to prove it?"
"Did she say it?" Jesse whispered.
"No. I just know."
He tilted his chin toward the set.
"Look—she's coming."
Ashley was walking toward them, smile soft, wiping sweat from her forehead, done with her shots. Jesse's feet moved automatically toward her—
But Tristan grabbed Jesse's wrist.
Pulled her in.
And kissed her.
Jesse froze.
Her whole body shut down.
Her hands remained suspended in midair.
Ashley froze too, just a few steps away. Her face fell—slowly, like something inside her cracked.
She turned.
Walked away.
Didn't look back once.
"Tristan—what in the world?!" Jesse gasped, pulling back. Her voice was shaking as she shoved him away and ran after Ashley.
But the elevator doors were already closing.
Ashley didn't look at her.
Didn't wave.
Didn't smile.
Just left.
"Damn!" Jesse slammed her palm against the wall.
She raced to Ashley's apartment minutes later, chest tight, breath uneven. She knocked once, twice—Ashley opened the door halfway.
"It's not what it looked like," Jesse said immediately.
Ashley didn't blink.
"Jesse, he is your boyfriend. It's none of my business."
"He's not," Jesse said quickly. "We're just friends."
Ashley's expression didn't change.
"Okay."
"Okay?" Jesse repeated. That hurt.
"What do you want me to say?" Ashley asked softly. Her voice wasn't cold—it was tired.
"Well…"
Jesse didn't know.
She just didn't want Ashley to think she'd moved on with Tristan.
She didn't want Ashley to think she didn't care.
"I'll leave now," Jesse said finally, stepping back.
There was nothing more to say.
Except everything she was too scared to admit.
Ashley closed the door gently.
And Jesse stood in the hallway, heart pounding, realizing that maybe—just maybe—the person she had been running from…
was the one she couldn't stand losing.