(Ruby POV)
Ruby left the set faster than she should've.
Not running.
Just… escaping.
Which was ridiculous, because nothing had actually happened.
No fight.
No confession.
No disaster.
Just a scene.
A very simple scene.
Except her brain clearly didn't get the memo.
---
"Ruby!"
Maya caught up with her near the hallway outside the studio.
"You're leaving already?"
"I need air."
Maya frowned. "You were just inside air."
Ruby didn't answer.
Because if she did, she might accidentally say the truth.
That Adrian Blake standing too close for too long felt like the opposite of air.
---
Inside the studio, she could still feel it.
The moment.
The shift.
The way the script stopped being just lines for a second too long.
Don't look at me like that.
Why did he say that?
Why did it sound like he meant it?
And worse—
why did her chest tighten when he did?
---
Ruby sat on the steps outside the building.
Pulled her knees up slightly.
Tried to breathe normally.
Failed.
"This is stupid," she muttered to herself.
Maya sat beside her. "What is?"
Ruby hesitated.
Then looked away.
"…Nothing."
Maya didn't push.
But she didn't need to.
Because Ruby already knew what she was thinking about.
Or rather—
who.
---
Meanwhile, inside the studio…
Adrian was still on set.
Still holding the script.
Still not moving.
People were packing up around him, voices fading in and out.
But he wasn't listening.
Not really.
Because his brain kept replaying something inconvenient.
Her voice.
Don't look at me like that.
Like what?
Like he noticed her.
Like he couldn't stop noticing her.
---
He finally closed the script.
Exhaled.
Slow.
Controlled.
"You're distracted," someone said behind him.
Adrian didn't turn.
"I'm not."
The assistant director raised an eyebrow. "You've been standing there for five minutes."
"…Productive thinking."
"Sure."
---
Adrian walked out a few minutes later.
The hallway was quieter.
Too quiet.
And then he saw her.
Outside.
Sitting on the steps.
Ruby.
Still.
Not looking at him.
But somehow—
aware anyway.
---
He stopped walking.
Just for a second.
Then continued.
Of course he did.
Because stopping would mean something.
And he didn't do "something."
---
Except—
when he passed by her—
she looked up.
Just briefly.
Their eyes met.
And neither of them spoke.
Not because there was nothing to say.
But because suddenly—
there was too much.
Too much awareness.
Too much silence that didn't feel empty anymore.
---
Adrian looked away first.
Naturally.
Controlled.
Professional.
Nothing changed.
Except—
he noticed she didn't look away immediately after.
She held it.
One second too long.
Like she wasn't acting anymore either.
---
Inside his head, Adrian told himself it meant nothing.
Just chemistry read tension.
Just scripts bleeding into reality.
Just coincidence.
But as he kept walking—
he realized something he didn't like.
They weren't just acting anymore.
And they hadn't been for a while.