Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Kiara’s first week on set goes as well as can be expected. That is to say, Kiara doesn’t really have much to compare it to, so she counts blocking two scenes and not falling on her ass the first time she mounts a horse on camera as a total win.

If the others don’t agree with her assessment, no one makes it known - Sarah essentially tackles her in a hug after her first scene, Pope sheds a tear the first time he watches her behind his monitor, and Peterkin sends her a fruit basket that includes 200 raisins and not much else.

Even JJ Maybank high-fives her after their first scene together, telling her she crushed it and then disappearing into his trailer, never to be heard from again.

That’s the only scene they have together that week, and though she knows that he’s on set too, she barely sees him at all. He never seems to hang out outside of his trailer unless he’s filming or in makeup, and the one time she does find him at craft service, he’s passed out in a chair in the corner, a plate full of olives balancing precariously on his thigh. 

They’re in the middle of learning choreography for a very complicated action scene coming up later in the season, when Shoupe barges into the room with a clatter loud enough to make her and JJ both freeze up in the middle of the gym, breathing heavy as they stand back to back with their swords raised.

Shoupe stays quiet for a few moments, his white tank top bunched up around the waist and his red visor crooked on his head, hands braced on his hips in a way that would make Kiara laugh if it were anyone else. “Y’all should watch movies,” he says.

Kiara’s brows furrow, mouth dropping in a small, confused “oh”. Her only consolation is that she feels JJ’s elbow bump her own when he drops his arm, turning to stand sideways with her, looking exactly as stumped as she feels.

His shark tooth necklace is bouncing lightly along his collarbone as he continues to breathe heavily, lean arms glistening with sweat and gray cutoff sticking to his abs in a way that would be very distracting if Kiara wasn’t trying to decipher her director’s words. JJ runs a hand through his hair, wet locks brushing his forehead, and Kiara has to physically wrench her eyes away from him, turning to look at Shoupe. 

She’s never been so thankful to be flushed from exertion and drenched in sweat.

“Shoupe?” JJ asks.

“Pope has a list of movies that inspired APOLAS, y’all need to watch those in your free time. Together. Pope and the cast and crew can join whenever they can, though I don’t care. I just need y’all two to get on it.”

It doesn’t sound like the worst idea, to be honest, and when Kiara’s eyes meet JJ’s, she gets the sense that he doesn’t hate it either.

“Um, sure,” she manages.

JJ nods, but otherwise doesn’t say anything.

Shoupe nods exaggeratedly, dropping his hands and clapping them together. “Alright. Let me know when you decide to do it, maybe I’ll drop by. Now, carry on. Oh, and Maybank?”

JJ hums.

“I need you to be a little more defensive in the fighting stance. This girl behind you is everything to Leonick, even if he can’t put it into words yet. She’s the love of your life, and you’re gonna do everything you can to have her back, got it?”

If JJ says anything back, Kiara doesn’t hear it. Just sees him clench his jaw, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and nodding as he runs a hand through his hair again.

Kiara gets the distinct feeling he hates this, but when Barracuda Mike, their stunt coordinator, instructs them to get into position, JJ squares his shoulder, taking his place in front of Kiara. He throws a glance over his shoulder, eyes meeting hers briefly.

He looks…not happy.

Kiara wonders what she did to insult him now.

“Alright, from the top!”

Kiara doesn’t know why the fuck she agrees to shit like this. 

Less than fifteen seconds after Shoupe had opened his mouth to tell her and JJ that they should start a movie club, she was handing out invitations like a high schooler whose parents were gone for the weekend. Now, she’s exhausted from a long day of filming, and instead of collapsing into her bed like she’s done for the last four nights, she’s mixing a large-batch margarita in a simmering pot (the furnished apartment that she’s calling her temporary home doesn’t have anything resembling a pitcher, so she’s making do with what she has). 

Looking at the tequila bottle next to her, Kiara sighs. She’s not sure she bought enough to survive tonight. 

It’s not like things are bad, per say – they are actually pretty great, but this experience is not at all what she expected out of her big break. Everyday, she’s coming home drained, whether it’s from sword training or her horseback riding lessons, or simply from the emotional toll that Thessa is taking out on her. She’s already in love with Thessa, even this early into production, and she wouldn’t give her back for the entire world, but god damn. That girl goes through the full gamut of emotion in a second, and Kiara’s still adjusting to portraying that. 

And, on top of that, Kiara’s balancing being part of a cast for the first time. Sure, she’s done theater productions before, and she’s been on set before, but she’s never been this tightly engrained in something that will last so long. It’s thrilling, in a lot of ways, but also confusing and nerve-wracking. Making a good impression on everyone is kind of high on her list of priorities, especially since, with any amount of good luck and high ratings, she’s going to spend the next three years working alongside these people. 

Not that anyone else seems to care much about first impressions. Maybe she should follow in their footsteps, given that each of them individually is more experienced than she is, and together they can bury her in acting credits and awards. 

Three years is a long time and Kiara doesn’t want to make any snap judgements, but she can’t help it. Wheezie is great, but she has no reservations about calling the directors out when she thinks they’re making the wrong choice – even for scenes she isn’t in. Kiara has to put a visible effort into not rolling her eyes every single time that Topper opens his mouth, but she seems to be the only one concerned with hiding it. And something about Rafe, the guy playing Mavros, sets Kiara on edge, but she can’t put her finger on it. Maybe she’s just internalizing Thessa’s feelings, since he’s the main villain in the story. 

And JJ is… 

Well, Kiara can’t quite figure out what to make of him. He throws his whole body into sword training, horseback riding, anything physical – going so far that she sees bruises dotting his arms when he shows up in the makeup trailer each morning from stunt training. The first couple of days, Kiara had been shocked by how seriously he takes everything. Honestly, it excited her a little, because this might be a Netflix fantasy show based on a book that Pope typed out on Tumblr, but it’s basically her magnum opus. Having someone take their role at least as seriously as she does felt comforting. 

But then, JJ shows up for their call times, and he’s relaxed to the point that he seems indifferent. He’ll fall asleep between takes, laying on anything that could halfway constitute a bed and snoring within seconds. Cleo has to shove him awake for his director’s notes, and even then, he’ll just nod halfheartedly at Shoupe, as if he’s not really awake yet. Somehow, he always takes the notes and improves his performance, but it doesn’t seem like anything he worries about.

If Kiara wasn’t next to him during swordfighting, seeing him work until the sweat is literally dripping off his body, she would accuse him of not giving a shit about this show. Even with the knowledge of how seriously he takes training, Kiara feels silly showing up with notes and thoughts and rehearsed expressions for each scene, because she spent an hour going over her character’s motivations while in her dressing room. It’s almost embarrassing how tightly she clutches onto Shoupe’s notes, kicking herself every time she messes up.

It might just be the way JJ is, though. He’s kind of like that with her, too. Like, sometimes, he’ll flash her a smile and Kiara relaxes because spending the next few years of her life acting opposite a guy like that feels easy, and she doesn’t have to worry about anything. The next day, he’ll be so closed off, Kiara wonders if she hallucinated all of his kindness. 

Apparently, her great solution to all of this is a fucking movie party every week and grabbing any chance for team bonding by the balls. 

Especially if she has enough tequila.

Just as she’s about to text Sarah to buy out the tequila section of the nearest liquor store, there’s a knock on her door. 

She wipes her hands on her shorts, steeling herself to be bright and bubbly and the most fun person in the room so that her co-workers don’t become a nightmare, and she opens the door of her apartment with a smile. 

JJ’s on the other side of the door, smiling tightly back at her. 

And, see, this is exactly the type of mindfuck Kiara’s talking about, because this is the kind of thing she expects him to blow off or not take seriously – despite the general sense she gets that he respects Shoupe, he’s never one to take up an offer to go to a bar, or grab dinner, or anything of the sort.

Yet, here he is, standing before her in his pajamas, which roughly translates to one of the dozen cutoffs he shows up to set in every day, paired with a pair of gray cotton sweatpants that hang criminally low on his hips, but Kiara’s not looking . Point is, she thought it’d be fun to have a pajama party, but now she feels stupid in her frilly yellow pajama shorts next to him. 

“I heard there was gonna be margaritas,” JJ says with a smile when Kiara takes too long to greet him. 

“Uh, yeah,” Kiara says quickly, backing up and letting him in. “Yeah, come on in. I made my famous large-batch margaritas.” 

JJ steps into her apartment, assessing the area like he doesn’t have a nearly identical living room a few doors down. “I’ve heard rave reviews,” he says.

Kiara smiles as she shuts the door, her shoulders relaxing. “Sarah may be overhyping them,” she admits. 

“Doubt it,” JJ says, turning towards her kitchen. Kiara moves to her island, and JJ sets himself on a stool on the opposite side, leaning towards her and twirling one finger in the air. “How does one go about ordering a drink in this fine establishment?” 

“Well, first you pick your cup,” Kiara says, gesturing with both hands to the assortment of glassware she had found in her cupboards.

The apartment is furnished, but it’s not exceptionally well-furnished. Digging through her kitchen, she had managed to find one normal drinking glass, one wine glass, two champagne flutes, an array of brightly colored tea cups, and a singular coffee mug. It’s a pretty pathetic collection, and in hindsight, she should have made this a bring-your-own-cup situation. 

JJ doesn’t seem to mind, though. He picks a bright yellow teacup, inspects it for a second, then hands it to her. 

“Could you top her off for me, miss?” he asks, his slight southern drawl becoming a little more pronounced. 

Kiara takes the cup from him. “Of course,” she says, using a ladle to spoon her margarita mixture into the teacup. 

When she hands it back to JJ, he takes a tentative sip. She tries not to watch him too closely, but given that they are the only two people in her relatively cramped apartment, that’s a wasted effort. 

He smiles at her. “Sarah didn’t overhype shit,” he says.

Kiara wants to take him by the shoulders and shake him. Instead, she ducks her head and mixes the margarita batch once more for good measure. “Family recipe,” she jokes. 

It’s lost on JJ. “Really?” 

Kiara looks up at him quickly. “Uh, no,” she says lamely. “My parents do own a restaurant, though. Who knows what habits I picked up there.” 

JJ takes another sip of his margarita, studying her as he does. “A restaurant, huh?” He nods once. 

There’s nothing specific about the way JJ says it that makes Kiara feel inadequate, but the reminder of his upbringing lingers in the back of her mind and makes her feel approximately two feet tall. While he was getting chauffeured around movie sets in Hollywood, Kiara was bussing tables after school.

“Yeah, a little tourist trap by the beach,” Kiara says with a half-fond smile. “Nothing glamorous.” 

She doesn’t mean it as a jab, but her words usually come out more prickly than intended. Too late, she realizes how that sounds. Thankfully, JJ’s in a remarkably good mood, and he takes it in stride. 

“Nothing’s as glamorous as it seems, right?” 

He says it with a ghost of a laugh, like it’s an inside joke between the two of them. Unfortunately, Kiara’s never felt more outside of a joke in her entire life. All she knows about the boy in front of her stems from media rumors – and the odd way he acts on set, which doesn’t really tell her anything at all. 

“What about your parents?” Kiara says, turning back to the pantry to grab some snacks. She keeps her tone light, trying not to sound like she’s prying. 

She’s thankful she’s hidden behind the door to her pantry when he responds.

“Mom’s dead,” JJ says, too blunt to be casual. “Dad and I don’t really see eye-to-eye.” 

Kiara looks at the cheese puffs in front of her and wonders what the lethal dose would be. How could she fuck it all up so quickly? Everyone on the goddamn planet knows that JJ’s mother died a few years ago, even if Kiara had conveniently forgotten it long enough to put her foot directly into her mouth.

Kiara grabs the cheese puffs and tries to stop herself from putting her head through the wall. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, trying to keep a somewhat casual tone too. When she steps out of the pantry, JJ’s watching her with a smile that looks a little sad. 

“Not your fault,” he shrugs.

It’s not what she meant–she’s mostly sorry she asked the question in the first place, but she’s not about to make this whole thing even more awkward by bringing that up.

JJ doesn’t say anything else. Just sits there and stares at her like he’s waiting for her follow-up question. 

His expression is so neutral, she thinks it might be rehearsed. She wonders how many times he’s had this conversation before, how many times a near-total stranger had asked him something deeply personal and expected a calm, rational, well-spoken answer.

Kiara won’t ask that next question either. Won’t pry into that part of his life. According to the tabloids, his mother’s death had devastated him. She died when he was still a teen, and it only took a few years before JJ was racking up scandal after scandal. He had quit acting all together not too long after that, and for a while he had disappeared from the limelight altogether. 

And then, lo and behold, he decides to make his great comeback, and his co-star is a girl who can’t keep her fucking mouth shut. 

Lamely, she holds out the container in her arms. “What are your thoughts on cheese puffs?” she asks instead of whatever question he was clearly expecting. 

It must garner her some brownie points, because his smile only widens. He grabs the cheese puffs from her, unscrewing the lid. “Love ‘em,” he says, just before shoving a handful into his mouth. 

It’s nothing big, but it’s a decidedly casual move, something at odds with the star-power Kiara usually associates with JJ. Like, instead of being co-stars in a blockbuster television series, they could be two normal college students, delirious from late nights in the library instead of long days learning to shoot on horseback. 

Something about it makes Kiara take a deep breath. 

Before either of them can kick-start their conversation, there’s a knock at Kiara’s door. 

“Coming!” Kiara calls. 

When she opens the door, Sarah Cameron is on the other side, arms full of grocery bags and a tray full of freshly baked cookies. 

“Heya!” Sarah says, beaming as she pushes through the door. “Who’s ready for movie night?” 

She stops short in her tracks, staring at the island where JJ’s sitting. 

He waves at her. “Hey, Sarah.” 

Sarah doesn’t even bother to acknowledge him. “What is this?” 

Kiara moves to stand next to her, trying to take some of the grocery bags that are digging into her arms. “What are you talking about?” 

Sarah gestures wildly. “You said you were making cocktails! And a cheeseboard!” 

Kiara winces as she finally pries a bag from Sarah’s grip. She had promised that, days ago when she first invited Sarah. As in, before the hours of sword fighting that still stung her muscles and all the early mornings she had to suffer.

“I mean, I did make a cocktail,” Kiara says, pointing to the simmering pot on her counter. 

JJ taps his knuckle on the side of the bucket of cheese puffs. “And if you squint, we have a cheeseboard.” 

He flicks his eyes quickly to Kiara, his grin sharpening for a second. Kiara can’t help but smile back at him. 

“This is …. abysmal,” Sarah says, looking like she might faint, her tone despondent. “You are banned from party planning for the rest of eternity. I will be in charge of snacks for all future watch parties.” 

JJ cuts his eyes to the several bags she had entered the door with. “What do you call all this?”

“I call this we’re lucky I stopped by the grocery store,” Sarah bites back. “I mean, I only grabbed a few things, but I guess it’ll have to do for tonight.” 

There’s more food in Sarah’s bags than Kiara’s fridge has seen in the entire time since she moved here. Kiara sets the bag she took from Sarah on the counter and pulls out three different cans of salsa to match the three different types of tortilla chips in Sarah’s other bag. 

“You’re right,” Kiara deadpans. “We’re clearly in danger of not having enough salsa.” 

Sarah narrows her eyes and points one finger at her. “John B can finish an entire jar himself. I’m just trying to look out for the rest of us.” 

Kiara has no doubts about John B’s ability to finish a jar of salsa by himself – she watched him stand by the catering table with a Costco-sized tub of cottage cheese the other day, absentmindedly shoving spoonfuls into his mouth while his eyes trailed after Sarah. To the horror of the catering staff, he finished the entire thing in one go, and she’s sure he could make quick work of a much smaller jar of salsa.

But she hadn’t realized John B was intending to join them tonight. She invited him, of course, because he is everywhere on set that Pope goes, but he hadn’t confirmed. Just thanked her for the invitation before disappearing to cause havoc at the catering table again. 

She assumed that was a no, given that Pope wasn’t going to be able to make it tonight, and John B hardly ever goes anywhere without his best friend. 

She should have seen it coming though, because a few minutes later, the chips and salsa are dished out in mismatched bowls that Sarah dug out of the cupboards, and John B is darkening Kiara’s doorstep, his eyes bright as they find Sarah. Behind him, Wheezie stands with her arms crossed. 

“I hear we’re having a movie night,” John B says, moving into the apartment and throwing an arm around Kiara in a half-assed hug. “What are we watching?” 

Kiara’s still a little stunned by the hug. “The Godfather,” she says. 

“Oh, word?” John B looks at her and then nods. “Are you one of those film buff people?” 

Considering they all work on a literal movie set, she thinks they probably all qualify as film buff people, but considering Kiara genuinely has no idea what John B’s purpose on set is, she keeps that argument to herself. 

“Yeah, but this one isn’t my choice,” she says, shrugging. “I just picked the first one on Pope’s list.” 

“You found Pope’s letterboxd?” John B says, turning to look at her with wide eyes. 

“Uh, no?” Kiara feels insane every time she talks to John B. “He gave me a list of all the movies that inspired A Prophecy of Lights and Shadows.” 

“Oh, okay,” John B says. “Cool.” 

He moves on from their conversation by diving into a bowl of salsa, not giving any further commentary on why he was shocked that Kiara might have found Pope’s Letterboxd account. Kiara looks to JJ, who’s already watching her. He just shrugs before shoving another chip in his mouth. 

“Can I pick the movie next time?” Wheezie asks, following John B towards the island. “I want to watch something made in this century.” 

Maybe John B had a point about Kiara being a film buff. 

“I’ll, uh, create a group chat,” Kiara concedes. “We can vote on it.” 

“I do love democracy,” Sarah says with a smile. 

“And I love movies made in this century.” John B shoves another cracker in his mouth. “Most of them, anyway.” 

JJ pokes John B’s side, goading him about his shitty taste in movies. Sarah laughs when John B nearly falls off his bar stool as he shrinks away, and Wheezie rolls her eyes. 

It almost feels like a night in with friends. Like they aren’t just co-workers, but people who genuinely like to spend time with each other. Kiara could probably get lost in it, if she let herself, and spend the whole night goofing off at the counter with them. 

Except, they aren’t friends – not really – and they have a job to do. As good of a mood as JJ is in, and as weird as John B always acts, they are basically on-the-clock at this point. Sarah may have brought several armloads of food, but she also hired Kiara to do a job, and part of that job is watching a movie tonight and taking notes for her performance as Thessa. 

Plus, she had called her parents twice this afternoon to find the password to their Netflix account. Kind of ironic that the person starring in Netflix’s next hit show doesn’t have an account of her own, but she’s also not above leeching off her parents.

“Alright,” Kiara says, feeling like a camp counselor as she claps her hands together in front of her. It kind of shatters the lighthearted air in the room, like everyone can tell they are shifting into work mode. JJ’s smile is softer from the other edge of the island. “Who wants to watch The Godfather?”

“Okay, that’s it for today, great work everyone!”

Kiara grins wildly, adrenaline pumping through her veins and manifesting in a bout of excited giggles.

She would feel more embarrassed if Pope and Wheezie weren’t matching her beat for beat, the latter high-fiving her so aggressively, she nearly misses and leaves her with a welt on her cheek.

It’s the first time she’s had to stay this late on set, but they just locked one of the most pivotal scenes between Thessalia and Seraphina, and if she ignores every single acting choice that she made in every single take of the scene, she thinks the others knocked it out of the park. 

Even Shoupe is standing there with a grimace that looks like a smile in the right light, mustache curling over his lips and hair plastered all over his forehead – if there’s one thing Kiara’s learned about Shoupe, it’s that he will break a sweat even when he’s just chilling in his director’s chair. And as disgusting as it can be, Kiara finds it reassuring. She’s always believed in leading by example, and it seems everyone on set is as invested as her in this project, from the very sweaty top, and all the way to the bottom.

The adrenaline high is followed by the lowest of lows, exhaustion settling into Kiara’s bones as soon as she’s in the car. She’s never been more thankful for the luxury of studio-provided cars and chauffeurs, because the idea of getting behind the wheel right now sounds like an actual nightmare.

She’s extra thankful for Dejan tonight—he’s been one of her regular drivers here, and the nicest one. His wife - Nika - makes the most delicious sugar cookies, and he has decided that he needs to get Kiara a batch at least every three days. The best part is he seems to be extra gifted at picking up social cues. Tonight, for instance, he immediately clocks Kiara’s exhaustion, preferring to keep the chatter to a minimum and putting on some Bob Marley - they discovered they share a love of Marley the second time he drove her to set - and allowing Kiara to chill quietly in the backseat.

She thanks him when she gets out of the car, promising she’ll be a lot more awake on their next ride, but he just waves a vague hand in the air and drives off with a smile on his face.

Despite her sleepy state, she takes the long way to the elevator. She’s grown accustomed to walking by the pool deck whenever she’s going up to her apartment, because it has the perfect view of the beach, and for those few seconds it takes her to walk to the other side of the building, she feels a little more at home.

The only difference about it tonight is that the sky is pitch-black, the lights are on, and the lounging chairs are all empty.

Even more unusual, the pool is occupied by a blond figure–or rather, the edge of the pool is. JJ Maybank is hunched over a sheet of paper poolside, water up to his calves, a small frown etched on his face.

She must make too much noise when she approaches because he looks up, slightly startled at first. His shoulders relax after a moment, features softening into a smile that Kiara does not expect.

“Hey,” he greets her, voice scratchy.

She hoists her backpack higher. Tries not to look too dumbfounded at seeing him. “Hi.”

He sets the papers he’s holding to the side - a script, she realizes upon closer inspection. Very worn, like its pages have seen better days. From her vantage point, she can see paragraphs written in the margins in a messy scrawl.

“How was the shoot?” He asks, and her eyes snap back to his face, caught. “You had the prophecy scene with Wheeze tonight, right?”

It’s not the first time JJ Maybank has managed to leave her stumped - not even the first time this week, and it’s only Tuesday - nor will it be the last time, she suspects. How can this man seem like he can barely stand to look at her when they’re not filming sometimes, but still pay enough attention to know what scene she’s shooting on a random Tuesday night when he’s not even on set?

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “Uh, yeah. It was fine.” She should stop there, he doesn’t really need to know much, nor does he care. But. “Just, uh, a little overwhelming.”

“I can imagine. It’s not an easy scene to shoot.”

“Right.” She thinks it might be an invitation to talk about it if she wants to. But she’s been wrong before, and the last thing she wants to do is give him another reason to be annoyed. So she doesn’t take it. Still, her curiosity gets the better of her. “What are you doing?” She asks, jerking her head in the general direction of the script on the ground next to him.

He looks down. “Oh.” Picks up the script, and tightens his hand around the folded spine. “Uh, running lines.”

That shocks her into silence for only a moment. The last thing she expected to find tonight was JJ Maybank running lines by the side of the pool.

“At 3:45 am, half inside a pool?”

He grins. Ducks his head, then tugs at his collar. Shrugs, eventually.

“Couldn’t sleep. And, uh, I don’t know. Being in the water helps me clear my head, I guess, and the pool is easier than the beach at this hour.”

She laughs lightly. “Yeah, I kinda get that,” she admits.

She really does, which is even more depressing, because the more she talks to JJ, the more she thinks they could be really good friends. And the more frustrated his whole hot and cold act leaves her.

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts. That’s enough confusion for one day. “Right, so, I’m just gonna—”

“Uh, do you wan—” He starts at the same time, then goes quiet when she does. He smiles for a second, then nods her way. “You go.”

She shakes her head. “I was saying I’m just gonna call it a night,” she tells him, tugging on the hem of her shorts. “I’m beat, and we have a long day tomorrow.”

That’s only partially a lie. She was exhausted minutes ago, but now she feels more alert than she has all day. Still, they really do have a long day tomorrow - they’re shooting on horses - so she needs to get however much sleep she can manage.

In the dim light, he looks almost disappointed. “Right,” he mutters, looking down at his script again.

She frowns. “You were also saying something…?”

“Oh,” he says, waving a hand vaguely in the air, then looking at her, almost dismissive. “Just checking if you know what time call time is tomorrow.”

He’s not saying anything particularly offensive, but once more, she feels like she’s upset him somehow. Like the flip she never sees coming has switched again.

“Uh, 12:45 pm.”

“Cool,” he says. “Thanks.”

He clutches his script tightly. Starts reading again, like he’s already forgotten she’s there.

She rolls her eyes. “Sure.” She doesn’t wait too long this time. Hoists her backpack higher on her shoulder, and walks away. “‘Night.”

She thinks he looks up at her when he says, “Night, Kiara.” Tells herself she’s probably seeing things, and that the way she thinks his voice softens when he says her name is only a product of her 4 am delirious state.

Working with horses is…an experience.

Aside from the constant neighing that leaves Kiara and JJ breaking character more often than not, sometimes falling in fits of giggles, other times rolling their eyes in vague annoyance, it’s a chore getting animals to cooperate with you when they simply don’t feel like it, no matter how well they’re trained.

And the more agitated the horses get, the more uncomfortable Kiara gets. She’s never been a fan of working animals, and being so directly implicated in it makes her feel like shit.

After the fifth failed attempt at getting JJ’s horse to trot lightly instead of racing for its life, Shoupe throws his headset away, pinching the bridge of his nose and getting up from his director’s chair.

“Alright, we’re done with the horses for today. They’re completely useless.”

“Don’t listen to the mean, old director,” JJ murmurs as he unmounts his horse and rubs his neck softly, laughing slightly when the horse headbutts him. “You did good, Cannoli. Don’t listen to him, he’s just sad his mustache isn’t half as pretty as your mane.”

Cannoli the horse headbutts JJ again, letting out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and then trotting away calmly.

Shoupe’s eyes go comically wide. “Now he trots?” He props his hands on his waist, looking every bit the cartoon character. “Son of a bitch!”  

Kiara laughs as she unmounts her horse - Carrot, like her bright, rust-colored mane - patting her neck a few times and whispering soothingly to her, before she walks away to stand next to JJ. She mirrors his stance, folding her arms in front of her and waiting for instructions.

“We can’t waste a whole afternoon doing nothing,” Pope reasons. “We’re already behind schedule as it is.”

“Then we’ll set up another shot and do the horses another day,” Shoupe tells him. He turns towards his assistant, an abnormally large man who would do better as a nightclub bouncer than anyone’s assistant. “Deputy Thomas, find me another Thessalia and Leonick scene we can shoot tonight.”

Kiara has no idea how the hell he earned that nickname, but she doesn’t have time to ask when she can see Shoupe on the verge of collapse, his mustache twitching unnaturally.

“The scene around the fire from episode 3 could work,” Thomas suggests. “We’d need a few hours to set up the shot, which works because it needs to be darker out anyway. And we can start the rehearsal as soon as the bonfire is set up, so a couple of hours.”

Shoupe nods, then turns to Pope. “What do you think?”

“Better than nothing,” he mutters. His eyes flicker to Kiara and JJ. “You’d only have a few hours to memorize your lines.”

“Oh, uh, I have it already—“

“Yeah, that’s cool, I’ve worked on it anyway—“

Pope’s eyebrows shoot up, an amused smile playing on his lips as his gaze flipflops between the two of them.

“Alright, then.” He turns back to Shoupe. “So?”

“Thomas, send everyone the new schedule. I don’t want to see anyone working on anything else.” He turns to JJ and Kiara, then, waving a vague hand between them. “Y’all got a few hours to kill, but I wouldn’t recommend leaving the set because you’re already in costume and we’re calling you up as soon as the location is fit for rehearsal.”

Kiara nods. Watches JJ nod and clap his hands next to her. “Got it.”

She throws one last glance at him, then smiles tightly at Pope before she starts heading off in the direction of the trailers. To her complete and utter shock, JJ claps Pope on the shoulder, then jogs the few steps until he’s next to her, slowing down to match her pace.

Kiara tries to keep her cool, shooting him a small smile before she turns away and continues looking straight ahead. It’s always a fine balance with him, and she’s still not sure where exactly the scale tips.

JJ runs a hand through his hair, kicking at a pebble with his thick boots, then shoving his hands in his pockets. “Sorry about that.”

Kiara frowns, confused. She turns to him. “About what?”

He shrugs his shoulders, bites the inside of his cheek as he continues to kick pebbles out of the way. “You know, delaying the scene and all.”

She shakes her head. That is the most absurd thing she’s heard. “Not your fault the horse doesn’t wanna be caged on a set so some guy can make some money.”

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up. “Not a fan of working with horses, I see.”

“Not a fan of working with any animals,” Kiara shoots back, trying to keep her voice level. She always gets riled up when she’s passionate about something, and she doesn’t wanna scare him away when, for once, he hasn’t gone to lock himself in his trailer the minute the director yelled cut. “They shouldn’t be working, it’s cruel. And they can’t really consent.”

JJ nods. Bites on his lower lip thoughtfully, swaying lightly as he turns his body to face her as they’re walking. “And yet you’re here.”

She winces. She’s thought about this a lot. Spent many days and nights agonizing over being a sellout and a hypocrite for not doing something to stop this.

“I gotta be in the industry, if I wanna try and change the industry.”

They’re Peterkin’s words, not hers. But for once Kiara really hopes that her uptight yet shockingly thoughtful manager is right. 

JJ’s face softens into something of a smile. “That’s fair,” he muses.

He kicks another pebble out of the way, then stops walking altogether.

Kiara’s not entirely sure what that’s about, so she takes another few steps before she stills too, turning to look at him. “Are you—“

“What are you up to now?”

Inexplicably, he starts walking again, like he only stopped to brace himself for that question. It leaves Kiara a little bit more confused, but she doesn’t question it too much, matching pace with him again.

She shrugs. “I don’t know.” She really doesn’t. Most of the people she hangs out with on set are not around today, and Pope is busy setting up a new shot with Shoupe and probably going over the script to make sure it doesn’t need any rewrites before the bonfire scene. “Probably start memorizing next week’s scenes in my trailer.”

JJ nods. Then stops walking again. Kiara is getting whiplash. “How about we watch one of Pope’s movies?”

Oh.

She finally stops walking too, turning to look at him again. She hopes the look on her face doesn’t reflect how woefully underprepared she was for his question.

Though they get along fine when they’re shooting together and when they’re forced to hang out for work-related events, JJ Maybank has never shown any interest in hanging out with Kiara of his own volition. To the point where she was truly starting to believe he just didn’t like her all that much.

So yes, him suggesting they do something just the two of them, even if it’s something for work, when he can be sleeping or locked up in his trailer, catches her completely off-guard.

“Now?”

JJ continues to chew on the inside of his cheek, then shrugs his shoulders again. “My laptop’s in my trailer,” he says. “We have a few hours to kill.” He starts walking again. Stops when he’s next to her, and looks at her in a way that kind of makes her mouth dry. It’s annoying. “Plus,” he adds, voice thick now that he’s so close, “you kinda need to let your brain chill for a bit. Stop jamming so many lines in there.”

Kiara doesn’t know why she’s fighting this. Bonding with her castmates, and especially her co-lead on the show, has been high on her priority list since the day she got cast. Hell, long before that, actually. She’s always wanted to be one of those people who got to say they had a special bond with their castmates when asked about it in interviews, and actually mean it. “Yeah, but…”

JJ scratches the back of his head, and if this were anyone else, Kiara would think he was nervous. But it’s JJ. She doesn’t know him that well, but already she can tell this man doesn’t have a nervous bone in his body. “You got somewhere else to be?”

Kiara throws a look over her shoulder, watching the crew pack up the cameras. Thinks about going back to her trailer alone, to rehearse her lines. Alone. Like she is most of the time here.

When her eyes flicker over to JJ again, he’s got the shadow of a smile on his face, eyes blue and warm, dimple lightly denting his left cheek.

She wants to understand what that look means. And why he sometimes looks at her like she’s a long-lost friend, but then other times barely acknowledges her existence. She wants to get to know him. 

She shakes her head. Stops overthinking every moment in her life that has led her here, and shoots him an easy smile. “Not anymore.”

JJ nods, looking down. Turns and starts walking again, biting down on his lips with more purpose now. “So, next stop… my trailer?” He slows down until she starts walking again, then waits for her to nod. Rubs his nose and clears his throat before he says, “I get to pick the movie this time.”

Kiara wrinkles her forehead, amused. “You realize we have a very specific Shoupe-assigned watch list.”

“Yeah but I can still pick from the list.”

She laughs. Wants to chide herself for feeling so giddy all of a sudden. She shakes her head to try and keep herself in check. “Alright. You can pick the movie.”

JJ’s trailer is nothing like Kiara imagined, yet exactly what she should’ve expected. It’s bare, for the most part, except for a pile of clothes on a swiveling chair in front of the mirror, and a rather large pin board hanging over the couch, full to the brim with a rainbow of post-its. Even from far, she can see the same messy scrawl that was in the margins of JJ’s script.

Curious, she walks over to the board, running her fingers delicately over the small notes all over the wall.

“Something to drink?” JJ asks from behind her, opening and closing the door to the fridge.

She shakes her head, too mesmerized to really pay him any attention.

Leonick has slept in a too tight bed for most of his life. Keep your posture small, and always curl up when you sleep.

He’s right-handed, but he can sword-fight with both hands.

Thessalia is pronounced like Tessalia.

Thessalia reminds him of his best friend when he was a kid. It’s why he’s so drawn to her at the beginning.

Pope says you should stop being so hard on Leonick. Kiara sorta agrees.

Leonick likes being alone because it keeps him in control. We’re similar that way.

Protecting Thessa becomes instinct. In fight scenes with Thessa, go with your instinct.

He doesn’t like any horses except his horse.

These are Shoupe’s notes, Kiara realizes with a low gasp. He remembered every single one, well enough to write them down after he’d gone back to his trailer.

Before she can say anything about it, she notices a column of post-its a little bit to the side, slightly separate from the rest of the mosaic.

Even more curious now, she lets her eyes trail over the notes, and she’s shocked to find her name on the very top one.

Kiara prefers her left side, so always stand on the right in pictures.

There are a couple more under it.

Pope likes bbq sauce with his fries.

JB sleeps with the windows open.

Pope and Kiara like to read. Sarah prefers audiobooks.

These are notes about them, she realizes. Things he remembers about her, and Pope, and John B, and all the people they work with.

She doesn’t know what to make of it. Only knows that it makes something in her chest flutter, a pang of something not uncomfortable just above her ribcage.

She’s breathing a little hard when she asks, “How do you know about the left side thing?”

When she twists her neck to look at JJ, she finds him standing off to the side, observing quietly, that same sort of nervous look from before coloring his features. He scratches at the back of his head, frowning lightly in confusion. 

“What?” JJ looks expectantly at her, but she can’t quite find her voice now, so she points at the post-it in question. “Oh. Uh, I heard you tell Sarah when we did the costume fitting photos.” He jerks a hand through his hair now, shaking his head lightly like it’s not a big deal.

Kiara thinks her heart might fly out of her chest, and she thinks that might actually be a pretty big deal.

Still, she nods, trying to keep it together. “Right.” Tugs on her hair and looks back at the post-it for another moment, running her fingers over her name, in JJ’s handwriting. 

“I think it’s stupid,” he adds after a moment, and Kiara’s bubble of comfort shatters into something more bitter. Of course he thinks she’s stupid. “You look pretty great on either side.” And—Oh. That is not at all what Kiara was expecting. She feels her mouth drop, not unlike a cartoon character, as she stares at him with wide eyes. She should look away, she knows, but the sheer shock of hearing him say those words has apparently hindered her ability to think straight or get her body to do basic functions like avert her eyes. Thankfully, he saves her the trouble by clearing his throat and turning back to the fridge, so his back is to her again. “Anyway I wouldn’t read too much into what’s on the board, there’s a lot of bullshit on there.”

She shakes her head. Fists her hands for a second and takes a deep breath to steady her racing heart. “Yeah, but a lot of it is not,” she tells him, her voice smaller than she intends, but she still counts it as a win. She was honestly not expecting words to form at all. “These are mostly Shoupe’s notes, right?”

“Mostly.” He grabs a beer, then seems to think better of it, putting the bottle back in the fridge and reaching for his water bottle. He takes a sip, walking closer to Kiara. “And a few things about the characterization, and some Pope notes. My brain processes things better if I can see them in front of me. Otherwise I don’t sleep trying to remember.”

He ushers vaguely to the couch, and Kiara takes a seat, watching as he grabs his laptop and drops down next to her. He kicks his boots off and props his feet over the small coffee table, then nudges her thigh with his knee. Kiara feels confused until she sees him nod his head towards the table, urging her to do the same. Her boots are a little less easy to get out of, but she eventually maneuvers them off, propping her feet on the table next to his. They’re sitting far apart to not be touching, but close enough that JJ manages to balance the laptop on both their legs.

“Is that why you’re always sleeping on set?”

JJ winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. I don’t sleep well, and I spend a lot of my nights memorizing lines because apparently I’m much more productive at 5am and—“

“No, it’s cool,” Kiara says. “Don’t worry about it, I wasn’t actually serious.” She feels a little bit of a jerk because she was kinda serious. Up until this point, she actually judged him for sleeping so much on set, failing to stop and think of all the reasons that could be behind it. It’s like someone just poured an ice-cold bucket of water labeled with the words congrats! you’re actually a judgmental ass! over her head. She tries to clear her thoughts. “Don’t you get tired, though?”

He shrugs. “Kinda exhausted, actually, but it is what it is, I’m just not a good sleeper. And before you ask, yes, I’ve tried everything - pills, therapy, herbal remedies, meditation, a fucking yoga retreat… my brain just powers up when it’s not supposed to.”

She sighs. Feels awful for him, because she’s the worst version of herself if she misses just one night of sleep. She can’t imagine what it’s like for him. “That’s shit.”

“Yeah.” They’re awkwardly silent for a moment, until JJ bumps his shoulder with hers, a small, lopsided smile on his lips. “But, on the flip side, I have enough money to be buried under a pile of gold, and everyone in the world knows who I am, so you know.”

He’s a good enough actor that she would believe him if he was actually trying to convince her. But he’s not, so she sees right through it. Shrugs to herself and rests her chin against her collarbone, peering up at him. “I’ll take the sleep.”

JJ bites the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.” He runs a hand through his hair, sighing audibly, before he claps his hands together and opens a browser page on his laptop. “Anyway. Casper.”

She has no idea what the fuck he’s talking about. “Huh?”

“The movie we’re watching. Casper.”

Oh. “Like, the friendly ghost?”

JJ beams. “The one and only.”

Kiara shakes her head. “That can’t be a real option.”

JJ pulls out his phone from his pocket, going through his notes app and finding Pope’s list. He trails his finger over the screen in a way that makes Kiara’s stomach churn. He taps the phone excitedly when he finds what he’s looking for, thumb ring clicking against the screen. “It’s on the list.”

He leans closer to her, holding his phone out between the both of them, elbow grazing her hip. Kiara tries to focus on the screen.

She clears her throat, then snorts. Hopes her voice comes out somewhat normal. “How the hell did Casper inspire APOLAS.”.

“Guess we’re about to find out.”

The movie is surprisingly fun. JJ’s running commentary, which is a lot more frequent now that it’s just the two of them, is even better.

The knock at the door comes just as the credits are rolling.

“It’s open,” JJ says next to Kiara, shutting the laptop closed and dropping it next to him.

He doesn’t move from his slump on the couch, though, shoulder pressed against Kiara’s, heel digging in her calf on the table.

Peeler, the first AD, peaks her head through the door, smiling up at them. “Make-up will be ready for touch-ups in 10.”

“Got it,” Kiara says, while JJ just shoots finger guns at her, adding a wink/tongue-click combo with unexpected flair.

“This was surprisingly good,” he says, pushing himself up and sitting straight.

Kiara tries not to overthink the sudden chill that runs through her bones at the loss of contact. She sits up straight too, reaching for her boots as she watches him stretch his arms dramatically.

He leans closer to her, bumping his closed fist into her face like he can’t see her there, and Kiara only laughs as she swats his hand away.

Despite the terrible CGI and the general lack of tact of 90s movies, Kiara has to agree - the movie was shockingly fun. She pushes off the couch once her boots are on, walks over to the full-length mirror to check that she hasn’t completely butchered the delicate braids Tessa is wearing for the next few scenes.

“Bets on what inspired Pope?” She asks casually, smoothing out her costume.

JJ shrugs, pushing himself off the couch and coming to stand behind her. He doesn’t get close enough to touch her, but she still feels her breathing shallow at the sudden proximity. Tries to keep her eyes on her own face as he fixes his hair behind her. “I think it’s the ball scene.”

He’s close enough that his breath fans the shell of her ear. She clears her throat, turns and pushes past him to give him access to the mirror. “Honestly, I think it’s Casper.”

She’s glad her voice doesn’t come out weird when she says it, because she’s pretty sure her heart can be heard from the trailer next door.

In the mirror, she sees JJ’s reflection frown. “Casper?”

“He’s got a little Leonick in him.”

JJ turns fully now, eyebrows disappearing under the locks brushing his forehead. “He does not.”

Kiara scoffs and starts listing off her fingers. “Makes rash decisions. Has dumb friends. Falls in love with a girl he quite literally can’t ever be with.”

She doesn’t really think that last one through until she sees the minute shock on JJ’s face, followed by an awkward stretch of silence.

In reality, it can’t be longer than five seconds, but by the time JJ clears his throat and shoves his phone in his pocket, Kiara feels like they’ve been standing there for longer than the movie. “20 bucks it’s the ball scene.”

Kiara breathes a sigh of relief. “You’re on.”

It’s a stupid thing to do, but Kiara can’t help it. One minute she’s grabbing a bottle of soy sauce from the condiments aisle, and the next she spots a travel pillow haphazardly thrown in the linen aisle. She doesn’t really think about it when she adds it to her trolley. Throws in a pack of sharpies and several pads of sticky notes too.

She leaves the pillow in a tote bag hooked to JJ’s trailer door, along with a post-it note.

So you don’t break your neck the next time you pass out at craft service - Kie

It kind of becomes a thing for them, after that. 

She could have texted him just as easily, but that feels dangerously close to friendship for the two of them, and they have some weird boundary-less parts of their relationship that go hand-in-hand with being romantic leads together, but Kiara’s still wary of the hot-and-cold nature of their dynamic. 

So, one night when she’s leaving set, she digs an extra set of sticky notes and a bright purple sharpie out of the bottom of her tote bag and she scribbles a note, sticking it to JJ’s mirror in the makeup trailer. 

What movie are we watching this week? 

She leaves the sticky notes and the pen on the vanity in front of the mirror. She doesn’t think to sign it – not until later that night, when she’s laying in her bed and staring at the ceiling. For a while, she agonizes over texting him to tell him – but hey, i left a sticky note on your mirror and didn’t sign it but it was me!! sorry :) feels even more awkward than never acknowledging it. But what if he sees it and he doesn’t put two and two together, and he thinks some weird stalker-fan had broken into the makeup trailer?

She comes back the next morning, and she’s clearly a few hours behind JJ, because the sticky note on her mirror is already starting to peel away, the notepad and the sharpie right below it. She lets out a deep breath, realizing all her worrying was for nothing. 

I picked last week, it’s your turn. 

Kiara smiles as she scrolls through the list of movies on her phone. Enlisting the help of her makeup artist, Olivia, she finally lands on one. 

The iconic DCOM, Ice Princess. 

She sticks the note to his mirror and tries not to think about it as she goes about her day.

Sarah catches her before she’s even properly out of the makeup trailer, grabbing her arm with her eyes wide. 

“I’m trying to prevent a disaster,” she says, forgoing a greeting. 

Kiara blinks, her eyes still adjusting to the bright sun. “Oh?” She hopes the disaster isn’t craft-services-related. She’s in desperate need of a bagel. “What type of disaster?” 

“The social media variety,” Sarah says, and Kiara’s stomach sinks. She wonders which member of the cast has skeletons lying in their old tweets. 

“Shit,” Kiara says. “What happened?” 

“JJ’s social media happened.” 

Kiara’s heart drops out of her ass. Fuck. Not only is it a cast member – it’s her fucking love interest?

“Oh, god,” Kiara mutters. “What’s on it?” 

“Nothing!” Sarah exclaims, throwing her hands up. “Nothing is on it.” 

“Wait – what?” 

“His social media presence is basically nonexistent. He hasn’t posted anything to his grid since the VMAs last year.” 

Kiara’s head feels like it’s spinning. “Oh, uh, okay.” She struggles to keep up with the direction this conversation is going. “I thought you meant a different type of social media disaster.”

Sarah pinches the bridge of her nose. 

“Don’t manifest anything, please,” she begs. “Just – for the love of god, would you help him out?” 

“Help JJ?” Kiara asks, taking a step back in shock. “Why me? Doesn’t he have a social media team?” 

“He does!” Sarah exclaims. “But not one I get along with particularly well – and not one that’s going to build the hype for this show like I need it to. So just – I don’t know. Share some of his posts. Teach him how to comment. Maybe post a couple stories with him that will end up in YouTube compilations once the show is out.” 

Kiara doesn’t know if she’s the right person for all of that – hell, she’s not even positive JJ will let her help him, even if she offers. 

Unfortunately, the alternative is telling Sarah Cameron no, which Kiara has quickly learned is nearly impossible. It’s even less likely when Sarah looks so disheveled, and it’s a relatively easy ask of Kiara. 

“Uh, sure,” Kiara says, blinking. “I’ll talk to him about it.” 

Somehow, Sarah’s bright smile makes her seem less disheveled. She beams at Kiara, placing a kiss on each of her cheeks before bounding off across the lot. 

Kiara wonders if she just got played. 

She’s still contemplating it when she approaches the tent that the crew pitched to keep the cast out of direct sunlight when the cameras aren’t rolling. Topper’s already there, lounging in a director’s chair and adjusting his sunglasses every ten seconds. Normally, his presence would be enough to turn Kiara around, but she sees JJ approaching the tent from the opposite side and she figures it would be kind not to leave him in the lurch. 

When they get close enough, he meets her eyes and although his expression doesn’t change, it kind of feels like the post-it note she left on his mirror is some sort of inside joke between the two of them. It makes Kiara feel a little bit lighter.

“Ready for our big scene?” Topper asks, standing up from the director’s chair to greet the two of them. 

They film out of order to the point that it’s almost comical, with Kiara filming scenes on the same day that could be weeks apart for Thessa. It’s a mindfuck for sure, but Kiara’s slowly getting the hang of it. 

Even though they have already shot parts of the main quest, today they are filming the first scene where Thessa and Leonick meet. When filming had just started, Kiara found the courage to ask about the filming schedule, and Shoupe had explained it to her as a conscious decision on his part – something about Thessa and Leonick having real, believable chemistry the first time they meet. Those first few awkward scenes during the quest would be more believable if they nailed the scene today, and they were more likely to be comfortable with each other a few weeks into filming. 

Kiara hadn’t really believed him at the time. No matter how she imagined the last few weeks going, she was fully prepared to feel as awkward around JJ today as she ever has. 

But now, he gives her a small smile and rolls his eyes at Topper, and Kiara thinks Shoupe might be a wizard. Maybe there is something to movie magic. 

“Sure thing, bud,” JJ says, turning to clap his hand on Topper’s back. 

Kiara has to cough to cover her laugh. As she was approaching, she had heard Topper doing his vocal warmups, but Kiara literally can’t understand why. He’s pretty prominent in the upcoming scene – but his character spends the entirety of it unconscious. 

“You sure you’re ready?” Kiara teases, hoping it doesn’t come off as cruel. 

“Of course,” Topper says, placing his hands on his hips. “I’ve been practicing a lot.” 

“Oh?” Kiara says, and JJ’s smile turns into a grin. 

“Yeah,” Topper says, then he stands completely still for a few seconds, not even blinking. Kiara doesn’t know what to do, so she just bites her lip to stop herself from laughing. Just when Kiara’s about to break, Topper relaxes. “See?” 

Kiara doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she’s thankful when JJ takes the lead. “That’s incredible, man.” 

“Thanks, bro,” Topper says, clapping his hand against his chest. “It’s an art, you know.” 

“Uh huh,” Kiara says, hoping her voice doesn’t betray the humor in the situation. “It’s giving very much dead body.” 

“No,” Topper says sharply, turning towards her. “Not dead. You see, I keep my breathing shallow, but it’s there. Guiseppe is clearly alive. It’s part of the effect.” 

Kiara’s eyes widen. “Absolutely,” she says, dumbfounded. JJ doesn’t hide his laugh this time, turning away from the two of them and shaking his head. 

Topper seems to think he and JJ are in on a joke together, because he turns to laugh with him. “Amateurs, am I right?” 

That stops Kiara’s laughter in its tracks. JJ sobers up almost as quickly. 

“Uh, I actually came over here to tell you that they need you in hair and makeup,” JJ says quickly to Topper. “Something about the bruise being the wrong color.” 

Topper scoffs, rubbing at the makeup on his forehead. The scene starts with Leonick accidentally knocking Guiseppe out, and Topper had spent an hour in the makeup trailer already to get the bruising correct. 

“Damn it,” Topper says. “And just when we’re about to start. You know, I told them. I read an article about the lifecycle of a bruise, and I said the blue was too blue to be believable. If I push back the scene because of this, I’m not taking the fall.” 

He doesn’t wait for either of them to respond before he stomps off in the direction of the trailers. 

Kiara waits until he’s out of earshot. “Do you really think this is going to delay the scene?” 

Today’s one of her earlier release days, and she was looking forward to being home before sunset. 

Thankfully, JJ shakes his head immediately. “Oh, no chance. They didn’t need him in makeup, I just couldn’t stand him anymore.” 

Kiara should be less surprised. “Good call,” she says. 

For a beat too long, it’s silent between them. Kiara wonders if she should bring up the movie night, or the sticky notes, or the sticky notes about their movie night, but JJ speaks first. 

“Don’t listen to him,” he says quickly, like he’s ripping a bandaid off. 

Kiara looks up at him, her eyebrows scrunched together. “What?” 

“Topper. Don’t worry about the shit he says.”

“I tune him out most of the time,” Kiara says – which is true, to be fair. It’s just not all the time. 

JJ doesn’t buy it. “You aren’t an amateur.” 

If only that were true. “Well, compared to him, I am,” Kiara says with a humorless laugh. 

“Kiara,” JJ says, and something about the way he says her name grabs her attention. He meets her eyes and doesn’t drop them. “You and I both know you’re a better actor than fucking Topper Thornton.” 

The thing is, JJ’s right. Kiara knows she’s a better actor than Topper. Her confidence might be shaky right now, but she’s spent years honing her craft, and she knows when someone else is full of shit. Topper Thornton is perhaps the most full-of-shit human Kiara’s ever met, and she has no doubt that he actually did go full-method and pretend to lose consciousness on his living room floor just so he could not fuck up this scene. 

But sometimes, especially in Hollywood, talent isn’t enough. It’s dealing with everything else that becomes a problem. 

And, in the case of Topper Thornton, his lack of talent isn’t a barrier either. Knowing the right people and understanding the industry can be more than enough. 

Kiara doesn’t want to bog JJ down with her thoughts, so she just sighs. “The bar is in hell, but I’m stepping over it,” she says, half-joking.

JJ doesn’t relent. “You’re the lead in this show for a reason,” he says, like he fully believes it. “You’re the best here.” 

The problem is, Kiara hasn’t honed her craft enough to see through someone like JJ. He’s too good at what he does – she can’t tell if this is all completely genuine, or if it’s an act. 

Still, it warms something deep in her chest, some part of her that recognizes that he’s not the type of guy to fuck with her like this. He’ll be hot and cold all day, but she doubts that he’d say something so kind without meaning it. 

Rather than bask in the compliment she had all but fished out of him, she decides to make another joke. “The best?” she says, standing up a little straighter. 

JJ must read something in her expression, cause he finally budges. “One of the best,” he says. “I can give you a few pointers sometime.” 

Kiara tries not to appear shocked by his teasing tone. It’s so light, she wonders if it could be considered flirting in any other scenario. 

“Speaking of pointers,” Kiara says, matching her tone to his and hanging on to her sanity by her fingernails, “Sarah said I could do some charity work and help you with your social media presence.” 

JJ runs his hand down his face. “She’s been riding my ass about my Instagram presence since our plane touched down.” 

“I could give you some tips,” Kiara says, shrugging with fake nonchalance. “Since Sarah begged me to.” 

“An influencer, are ya?” 

Far from it, actually – before news broke about her casting, she had less followers than people in her graduating high school class. 

Still, she keeps up the ruse. “Something like that.” 

“Well, shit,” JJ runs his hands over his hair. “Tit for tat, then? I give you some acting tips, you teach me how to tell what my good side is?”

Kiara swallows any comment about how every side seems to be his good side. “I don’t know,” she says instead. “As the best actress here, I’m not sure I need them.” 

JJ’s face breaks out into a grin. “And now she’s got an attitude…” 

Before Kiara can show him what her attitude actually looks like, Shoupe interrupts them, calling them both over.

“How are y’all feeling?” Shoupe asks, looking between them carefully. 

“Good, I think,” Kiara says. 

“Ready to knock Topper the fuck out,” JJ adds, stretching his arms. 

Shoupe laughs lightly, and JJ doesn’t return it. Kiara wonders if he’s serious. 

“It’s not just about knocking Guiseppe out,” Shoupe reminds him. “This is Thessa and Leonick’s first scene together. This starts the rest of the story – everything from here on out unfolds because Thessa mistakes Leonick for her knight in shining armor.” 

Shoupe has a tendency to give these rundowns before scenes – summarizing the feeling and vibes of the scene before they even begin to rehearse. Kiara thought it was redundant at first, but the further they get into filming and the wackier her schedule looks, the more thankful she is for the reminders. They help get her head in the right place. 

“So, Leonick,” Shoupe points towards JJ. “You aren’t looking to be anyone’s savior. You’re just trying to stay out of trouble, and you get tangled up with a girl you can’t say no to. Thessa,” Shoupe turns his full attention towards Kiara, “you have no idea you have read this guy completely wrong. You have a destiny to fulfill, and you’re taking any help you think you deserve.”

Kiara nods, settling her body and trying to tap into the emotions that she knows will be rolling over Thessa like a tsunami. 

“And Guiseppe,” Shoupe says, looking over Kiara’s shoulder to where Topper is approaching them, muttering under his breath about mixed signals. “You’re unconscious.” 

Topper stops muttering and holds two fingers up in a salute. “You got it, boss. I’ve been practicing.” 

Kiara’s just close enough to Shoupe that she hears him whisper god help us under his breath. 

“I need this chemistry to be electric,” Shoupe says after a moment, turning back to Kiara and JJ. “Are y’all ready?” 

JJ’s already watching her when she turns to him. Kiara’s not sure when she’s become so certain that they’ll be able to deliver on that electric chemistry, but in that moment, she has no hesitation. 

“Let’s go nail this scene,” she says.

She finds out later that JJ wasn’t joking about knocking Topper out – or, attempting to, at least. He plays the entire thing off as an accident, but Kiara’s not so sure. Once the camera starts running, JJ swings his sword with just a little too much power, whacking Topper in the face.

When Topper hits the deck, JJ doesn’t miss a beat. Kiara miraculously keeps pace with him, and they run through the whole scene, not wasting the hit. 

Shoupe calls it the perfect shot, even as JJ gives Topper a half-assed apology and a tissue for his bloody nose. Ever the perfectionist, Shoupe makes them do a few retakes, but none feel as perfect as that first take. 

The scene wraps a few hours ahead of schedule, and Shoupe sends everyone but Kiara and a couple of the extras home early. There’s some coverage they still need to film for the scene immediately before Thessa and Leonick meet, and given that Kiara is already in costume, it’s the perfect time. 

Even with the extra coverage shots, Kiara still wraps earlier in the day than she expects. She makes it back into the makeup trailer with enough time to get out of her costume, head home, and take a nap before dinner.

She almost misses it in her rush to leave, but on the mirror there’s a sticky note with JJ’s familiar handwriting.

don’t know what the fuck a DCOM is but sure

Despite the fact that Kiara has regularly invited the entire set into her apartment for movie nights, they are quickly becoming something for just JJ and Kiara. Since she and JJ had decided on Ice Princess for this week’s movie, she sent a courtesy message in the group chat to remind everyone.

For various reasons, everyone had claimed to be too busy – even Sarah, who would normally be liable to commit a war crime just to find a reason to make a charcuterie board. 

So, Friday Movie Night is just her and JJ – again. Kiara’s found she doesn’t mind it. 

“That was not Frozen,” JJ says as the credits start rolling. 

“Astute observation,” Kiara says, snorting in laughter. She reaches across the couch and grabs a handful of popcorn from his bowl. “Were you expecting them to transform into animated characters?” 

“No, of course not,” JJ says. “I was expecting one rendition of Let It Go, though.” 

Kiara can’t help but laugh again. “Sorry to disappoint,” she says. “I could give it a go.” 

JJ looks over at her sharply. “You sing?” 

Kiara tries not to appear like she’s mulling over her answer. She does sing, in a sense – after the one year she was required to join her High School’s chorus for an art credit, her main audience has been her shower head – but JJ’s dated pop stars before, and she’s pretty sure they are working under different assumptions. 

“No,” she says simply. “You?” 

JJ shakes his head, turning back towards the television. “Nah. Not my thing.” 

Kiara bites her lip, weighing her options. She should definitely hold her tongue but – fuck it. 

“I actually remember –” 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” 

“– that one Christmas special.” 

JJ hangs his head back, groaning loudly. “No way you actually remember that.” 

Kiara laughs – okay, maybe it borders on a giggle – at his distress. One year, his show did a Christmas special, and JJ gave a very impassioned version of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer – costume and all. She’s pretty sure everyone and their mother remembers that, given that it’s been memed within an inch of its life on Twitter.  

“Of course I remember,” Kiara says. “It was a cultural reset.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” JJ says. Kiara would worry that maybe she’s stepping too far over some line with her colleague, but he smiles at her and shakes his head, and Kiara can’t help but push it just a little bit farther. 

“That must have been one hell of a Disney contract.” 

JJ picks his beer up from the coffee table and downs the rest of it before responding. “It was airtight. Trust me, my lawyers tried.” 

Kiara laughs, imagining JJ – 15, maybe 16 years old, sitting in front of a room of lawyers pouring over every line of his Disney contract, trying to find any loophole that would get him out of embarrassing himself on national television. 

Maybe Kiara would have had more empathy if she didn’t know the types of paychecks that came attached with those contracts. 

“Speaking of that contract,” Kiara says, tilting her head to one side, “shouldn’t you know what a DCOM is?”

JJ looks at her with narrowed eyes. “What?” 

“When we were picking out the movie, you said you didn’t know what a DCOM is,” Kiara says, trying not to feel awkward about mentioning their post-it note conversations. 

“Uh, yeah,” JJ says, scratching at his head. “I still don’t.” 

That has to be a joke. Kiara waits for the punchline, but it never comes. “DCOM. Disney Channel Original Movie? Disney Channel.” JJ’s eyes widen in recognition, and Kiara can’t help but laugh a little. “Weren’t you in, like, three of them?” 

“Shit, yeah,” JJ says, nodding. “Huh. You learn something new everyday.” 

Kiara looks at him, her jaw dropping. “Unbelievable.” 

“What?” 

“You’re unbelievable.” 

JJ shakes his head, though he doesn’t wipe the smile off his face. “Are you telling me that you remember every single acronym from every place you’ve worked?” 

“The ones that directly relate to me, yeah!” Kiara flips her hair over her shoulder. “I worked for two months as a cashier at a grocery store and I still remember every produce code.” 

JJ’s eyes bug out of his head. “Banana,” he calls out, pointing a finger at her. 

“9845.” 

JJ’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Onion?”

“Red or white?” 

“Shit.” JJ shrugs. “Red?” 

“7495.” 

For a second, JJ watches her, and then his eyes narrow. “You’re making shit up.” 

She totally is, not that she’ll admit that. The closest she’s ever gotten to working as a cashier at a grocery store is playing one during an improv class. It was one of the classes where Sarah had been present – Kiara wonders if that was the performance that helped her get the job.

It’d be a depressing thought, if that same exercise wasn’t throwing JJ – child actor extraordinaire – for a loop. 

“You’ll never know,” Kiara says with a shrug.

“When I visit that grocery store and test you on every produce code, then I’ll know.” 

Kiara can only imagine him trying to track down a grocery store that doesn’t exist, going through each item individually until he has a list of every code the store uses. 

“Well, until then,” Kiara says, “you’ll never know.” 

JJ seems frustrated by that answer, which makes it all the more funny to Kiara. She smiles as he runs his hands through his hair, then tries not to let her eyes linger on his arms. 

The movie credits end, returning the television to the Disney+ homescreen. Just above Ice Princess, one of the DCOMs JJ starred in (then promptly forgot the acronym for) appears. JJ looks away from the screen immediately. 

Kiara wonders what it’ll be like to see her own face up there. It’ll be happening pretty soon, all things considered. It’s thrilling, but also weird. Even now, she can’t connect the guy sitting next to her with the kid smiling back in the movie poster, even though very little has changed about him in the years since that movie was made. Will she feel that same disconnect with herself – will she look at her own picture on Netflix’s home screen and not recognize the person staring back at her?

“It was pretty good,” JJ says, snapping Kiara out of her thoughts. Kiara turns to look at him. 

“Hmm?” 

“The movie. It was pretty good.” Kiara would probably argue his rating up from pretty good, but he doesn’t allow her the chance. “No clue how the fuck any of it inspired Pope, but it kind of makes me want to go ice skating.” 

At first, Kiara’s shocked by that statement. It’s the last thing she expected to come out of his mouth. Even more surprising, she realizes she feels the exact same way. 

After a moment, Kiara nods along. “I bet I could land a couple jumps like that,” she says.  

JJ pulls out his phone, typing out something real quickly. “There’s a skating rink like 15 minutes away,” he says. “Free skate ends in an hour.” 

He looks up at Kiara with an almost blank expression, like he’s not really sure he’s even asking her a question, but he’s waiting for her response all the same. 

Kiara wonders if this means they’ve accidentally ventured into friends territory. 

“Fuck it,” Kiara says, standing up from her couch. “Let’s go.”

The last time Kiara had been involved in anything that could resemble a photoshoot, it had been for her last round of headshots. The closest she’s gotten since then has been the mini-photoshoot when they did the costume fitting, courtesy of Sarah Cameron, but that had lacked the same gravity. This was not an iPhone and decent lighting situation – this was heavy duty cameras and lighting kits and an entire crew to assist the photographer.

She’s never experienced something on this scale before, but even her headshot shoot had stressed her out. Being a character in front of a camera was one thing, but being herself? Peterkin had always said to relax and let her personality shine through, but how the fuck was she supposed to do that? How was one picture supposed to convey her personality?

Not one single part of this endeavor feels like herself. Not the hair – though they promise that once they get the cover shot, they will let her wear it in her natural curls – and certainly not the makeup. Some of the clothes they picked for her aren’t that bad, but her current outfit consists of a very tiny crochet bikini top that is not leaving anything to the imagination, and the most form-fitting maxi skirt she’s ever seen. And it’s not that she’s ever had any particular problem with showing some skin, but none of this feels like her. And it doesn’t feel like Thessa, either. No, this is some weird third persona that she’s likely going to have to take on, she realizes. A Hollywood star, gracing the cover of a magazine. 

Fuck. The cover of a magazine. Kiara tries to tear her eyes away from the mirror in front of her, to stop this growing panic inside of her, but she can’t. Her eyes only focus on the parts of her that she hates, and the flaws she absolutely does not want displayed in a grocery store check-out line for everyone to see - which is an issue when they’re all highlighted in her current outfit. 

She wonders if it’s too late to back out. 

“God damn,” a voice calls from behind her, and she turns to find JJ leaning against the wall. She has absolutely no idea how long he’s been there. “Kiara Carrera, looking hot as ever.” 

He’s teasing, his tone light, but she wonders if he’s read the panic in her expression and is throwing her a bone. She doesn’t even care if this is a pity compliment – she’s going to grasp onto it with both hands. 

“Are they ready for us?” Kiara asks, her throat dry. 

“No one’s ready for us, baby,” JJ says, winking exaggeratedly at her. He waits for her features to melt in a small laugh, grinning right back at her before turning to walk out the door. “But they’re thinking of starting soon. You got 5 minutes.” 

She turns to the mirror, giving herself on last mental pep talk before striding out of the room like she owns the fucking place. 

JJ’s waiting for her by the edge of the set. Now that her stress levels have lowered from contemplating giving up on her entire career to only wanting to end her current contract, she can take the time to really look at him.

He’s wearing a thin black and white knit sweater that she thinks is supposed to match her own top (if you could call it that), a thin chain resting on his collarbone where his shark tooth necklace usually sits. His hair is perfectly disheveled, like he’s just been running his fingers through it - he probably did - and she’s nervous and unfiltered enough to lick her lips for a second; he looks obnoxiously good.

But she’s not about to tell him that.

He may have paid her a compliment and slightly put her mind at ease, but he’s probably done shoots with too many half-naked women over the past few years, all infinitely more beautiful than she is. His words were probably rehearsed. Some generic compliment that he knows makes his shoot partners feel more at ease.

He half-turns towards her as she approaches. When she stands next to him, he bumps his shoulder against hers. 

Begrudgingly, she thinks about how this small gesture somehow allows more tension to dissipate from her body. She tries to convince herself it’s all part of the act - he’s trying to make her comfortable because he needs her to be. But when she turns to look at him, his eyes are disarmingly sincere.

“A long way from the grocery store, huh?” he teases. 

Kiara freezes up. She wonders if her fears about this issue being splashed around grocery store lines is that fucking obvious that he recognizes it immediately. She fists her hands on either side of her to keep from wrapping her arms around her middle. To hide the stretch marks on her sides, the scar to the right of her belly button, the small bump that is her lower stomach.

It’s only when JJ gives her a weird look that she remembers that she had lied to him about being a grocery store cashier. 

“Oh!” Kiara says, her relief far too evident in her voice. “Oh, yeah.” 

JJ shakes his head, turning away from her. “I knew you weren’t a fucking cashier,” he says. 

“I was!” Kiara protests, then she smiles to herself. “I played one during an improv class that Sarah sat in on.” 

JJ’s dumbstruck for a moment. “Un-fucking-believable,” he mutters. “Well, I’m going to need the number of your improv teacher.” 

“Why? So you can take a class with him? Improve you improv?” 

JJ smirks at her, turning away just as they call him for some test shots. “No, so I can teach a masterclass.” 

Her next shoot isn’t any easier. And neither is the one after. She should be getting used to it by now, or at least feeling some sort of progress now that she has an actual magazine cover already hitting newstands and three more planned for the near future, but no amount of telling herself she can do this is making it any easier.

She still feels sickeningly nervous every single time, and the voice telling her she doesn’t belong here only seems to grow louder the more time passes.

Today’s shoot was especially bad because none of the looks felt like her, and, even though JJ was on set with her, they didn’t take any pictures together and rarely had time to actually talk. 

Once she’s out of the ridiculous clothes, she feels more like a human. She’s also exhausted, even though all she’s done is stand and pose in different directions all day. She’s so exhausted, she completely forgets to text Dejan to pick her up, and she hangs her head to the side at her own stupidity. An extra 15 or 20 minutes of waiting isn’t the end of the world, but it’s also not Kiara’s idea of a good time. Especially not when she’s already super tired.

JJ pops his head into her open dressing room as she’s drafting the text message to Dejan. “Are we still on for a movie tonight?” he asks when she looks up at him. 

Usually, Kiara hates interacting with anyone when she’s exhausted, but the prospect of a movie night with JJ doesn’t drain her of her will to live like most things would. 

“Uh, sure,” Kiara says, brightening a little bit. “As long as you’re up for it.” 

“Anything but Lord of the Rings,” JJ says. “I don’t think either of us have enough energy for that.” 

Kiara laughs, even as she agrees. “I’ll be, like, 15 minutes behind you,” she says. “I’m just texting my driver now.” 

Focused on finishing her message to Dejan, she doesn’t notice the way JJ pauses. 

“I can give you a ride,” he says, and Kiara looks up at him. “My car is already here.” 

Kiara blinks. “Oh,” she says, wondering why she hadn’t thought of that before. Maybe because every time she remotely thinks of JJ, the words don’t get too close echo menacingly in the back of her mind, distinctly in Peterkin’s voice. “Actually, that would be great.”

JJ nods his head, urging her to follow him, and she grabs her bags quickly before jogging to catch up with him. She sends Dejan a quick message telling him that she’s caught a ride with JJ and not to worry, and then turns to her co-star. 

“No Lord of the Rings tonight,” Kiara reiterates. “Any other suggestions?” 

JJ thinks for a moment. “Something lower stakes. That one about the tiger, maybe?” 

Kiara waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “Do you mean the Chronicles of Narnia?” 

“Yeah, probably.” 

Kiara shakes her head as they head out the back door. JJ clicks the unlock button on his keys, and his car’s headlights illuminate the parking lot. A moment later, Kiara’s steps falter. 

“You don’t have a driver,” she says, looking at the empty seat behind the wheel. When JJ said he could give her a ride, she had thought he’d meant him and his driver. 

“Oh, yeah, no,” JJ says, then pauses. “Is that okay?” 

“Yeah, no, definitely,” Kiara says. “I’m just surprised. I thought a driver was part of the standard package.” 

JJ swings his keys around his fingers. “They are. Especially when shooting in another country. I asked for a rental.”

Kiara raises her eyebrows. “You don’t like being shuttled around?” 

JJ looks at his car and shrugs. “I prefer a little bit of freedom,” he says evenly. “Plus, my memory is shit and I’d always forget to text my driver.”

He smiles at Kiara before heading to the driver’s side. 

The car is similar to the one Dejan drives, a big, dark SUV with leather seats and a killer entertainment system. Kiara hasn’t sat in the front before, and that fact feels a little silly as she makes herself comfortable in the passenger seat. 

She loves having a driver. Even when she forgets to text Dejan to let him know when she’s done, it feels like a luxury to never have to drive herself anywhere.

So JJ’s point of view leaves her a little stunned. She wonders if being driven around his entire life robbed him of another facet of normalcy that Kiara takes for granted.

The drive home is far less exciting than Kiara would have guessed. She adjusts her seat and tinkers with the air conditioning, and then turns her attention to the radio. It’s connected to JJ’s phone, defaulting to a playlist called cartunes. Kiara doesn’t fully appreciate the pun until the Looney Tunes theme song is blasting through the stereo. Kiara laughs, but JJ quickly skips to the next song.

JJ looks more comfortable driving than Kiara’s ever seen him do anything else. With one hand on the steering wheel and one leaning on the edge of his open window, he navigates the tight city streets and the unpredictable traffic with an ease that gives Dejan a run for his money. 

Years ago, Kiara remembers articles floating around about JJ and his tendency to get into trouble with street racing. Although he drives carefully and obeys the speed limit, Kiara has no doubt about his ability to push this car past its limit just for the thrill of it. Something about his level of comfort betrays the fact that he’s gone over the edge a few times, and he knows how to stay safely on this side of it.

“You know,” JJ says suddenly, breaking the silence that Kiara was worried might become uncomfortable. He points towards the radio. “Van Halen was the first concert I went to alone.” 

The display for the radio shows the song next to the image of the album cover. Jump by Van Halen.

“Really?” Kiara says, hoping the surprise in her voice isn’t overpowering. A lot of JJ’s co-stars from his earlier shows had gone on to become pop stars, and they share almost nothing in common with Van Halen. Kiara doesn’t know why she assumed that would be JJ’s go-to type of music, except that he’s been spotted supporting his friends at their concerts fairly often. 

JJ taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. “Well, not alone. I went with a bunch of my castmates.” He shrugs. “But the first one without my parents, you know. We had to sneak out and everything.”

“You snuck out?” Kiara furrows her eyebrows, trying to imagine young Disney star JJ scaling the side of his mansion. “Your parents wouldn’t let you go?

For a beat, JJ focuses on turning the car and not hitting a particularly gutsy biker. He clears his throat before he answers. “They probably would have let me go,” JJ concedes once the biker is out of sight. “I would have had to go with a bodyguard, though.” 

“Aren’t bodyguards, like, for your own protection or whatever?” 

JJ shrugs, almost like it’s besides the point. “I mean, yeah. But really, who was going to recognize a bunch of Disney kids at a Van Halen concert?” 

“Point taken,” Kiara says. “Still a risky move.” 

“You’re telling me you never snuck out to go to a concert?” JJ hits her with a look like he knows she has. 

And, god damn it, he’s right. Kind of, at least. “Right before I graduated high school, I lied to my parents about sleeping over at a friend’s house and spent the weekend at a music festival,” Kiara admits. 

JJ nods appreciatively. “Which one?”

Kiara hits him with a look. “Goat Island,” she says, and JJ screws up his face. “Yeah. Not exactly Coachella.”

In fact, it was far, far from Coachella. It was a tiny, horrifically-planned event, and while it was supposed to be annual, Kiara’s pretty sure it was never held again. She hadn’t kept up with it, given that there was nothing about the festival she wanted to remember. She had only gone because she was in the middle of a fight with her parents and the girl she was crushing on – Daisie Evans – had offered her a ticket. 

The bands sucked, but Kiara made out with Daisie, so, you know. You win some, you lose some.

“Coachella isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” says with a grin.

If only he knew. Kiara decides not to give him the nitty, gritty details. “Of course you would say that,” she teases instead.

“I’m serious!” JJ lets out a half laugh. “I had to go for some brand partnership a few years ago–” 

“Had to go,” Kiara says, overexaggerating her eye roll. “Tell me, however did you survive?” 

“I almost didn’t,” JJ says, grinning at her tone. “They fed us bad sushi.” 

“Oh,” Kiara says, stopping short and scrunching her nose up. “Ew.” 

“Yeah,” JJ says, nodding his head. “Imagine getting food poisoning out in the middle of the fucking desert.” 

Kiara would rather not. As much shit as she wants to give JJ, that does sound kind of miserable. And hey, Goat Island Music Festival was one of the worst weekends in her life, but there was no rotten fish in sight. Small victories.

“No sushi at Coachella – noted,” Kiara says, only half joking. She hasn’t had time to wonder about brand partnerships or PR events like that – though Peterkin has been up her ass about it – and she wonders if maybe she’ll be offered bad sushi at Coachella sooner rather than later. 

“Seriously – I haven’t had sushi since.” With an over-exaggerated shiver, JJ shakes his head. “Bad memories.”

Kiara picks at her nails for a second. “You know, the first place I went to when I moved to Los Angeles was Nobu,” she says finally. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit now, but she had saved up enough money and taken herself out in the hope that dining like a celebrity would manifest something. Instead, sitting alone at the bar, eating way-overpriced sushi, had been the first time she really doubted herself.

But hey, the universe works in mysterious ways. Maybe that night had been kind of miserable, but here she is, driving with her super-famous co-star in a studio car on the way back to the apartment Netflix pays for. Who’s to say that her manifestation didn’t work?

JJ bites his lip and Kiara averts her eyes. After a beat, he sighs. “I think it’s overrated.” 

Kiara grins to herself. The food was good, but yeah. JJ has a point.

“I saw one of the Kardahsians in the bathroom and I’ve never been back since,” Kiara admits. She doesn’t include the way she tripped over her feet and nearly hit someone with the door in her haste to get the fuck out of there.

JJ’s grin widens. “Yeah, I promise you, there’s better places to get sushi in Los Angeles.” 

“I don’t know,” Kiara says evenly. “I think I’d prefer a different taco truck most nights.” 

JJ nods his head like he agrees. “You have a favorite?” He flashes a grin. “Everyone in Los Angeles has a favorite.” 

“I don’t know,” Kiara says. “I like this one in Glendale.” 

“Text me the name of it,” JJ says absentmindedly, most of his focus going towards turning the car down the small alley that leads to their apartment complex. “I’ll have to check it out. Add it to my Greater Los Angeles Taco Truck Food Guide.” 

Kiara kind of wants to ask for recommendations – for sushi, and for taco trucks, and for all the little places that JJ’s found in his years in Los Angeles. Even though she’s been in California since high school, she still feels like a tourist, only hitting her favorite restaurants and almost never branching out into new neighborhoods. 

She wonders if they’ll grab dinner together occasionally when filming is done. That’s something co-stars do, right? Keep in touch, remain friendly? Peterkin’s always going on about networking, and JJ’s just about the best networking opportunity Kiara’s got, right?

Maybe he’ll show her his favorite taco truck sometime. They can compare and contrast. 

She doesn’t ask – honestly, she’s a little afraid of the answer – and JJ pulls the car into his parking space before she has to make any further conversation.

As they get out of the car and head up the steps to their floor, Kiara marvels at how easy it is to talk to him.  They’re still learning a lot about each other, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. Sometimes it feels like they are just catching up.

That same dangerous level of comfort follows them as they head toward Kiara’s apartment under the guise of watching another movie on their list. 

It’s not a convincing front, even to the two of them. Kiara grabs two beers from the fridge and sits across from JJ on the couch, not even bothering to turn her television on. If JJ finds that odd, he doesn’t mention it – he just takes his beer with a smile and a thank you, leans back in his seat, and continues on with his story about a disastrous date that turned into more of a PR stunt.

She thinks it’s funny to hear their stories side by side, because on the surface they sound so similar - sneaking out of their houses as teenagers, going on dates with losers, and trying to find their way as adults. They even like the same things, sharing stories about surfing and smoking, bonfire parties and cheap beer. 

The stories sound similar, but their backgrounds couldn’t be more different. Kiara tells JJ how she gave her mom a heart attack about picking out her Prom dress, and JJ commiserates by mentioning the time he went to war with his manager about picking out a suit for his first Met Gala. They talk about eating shit out on the waves, but Kiara’s thinking about the tiny beach she frequents down the street from her parent’s house and JJ’s reminiscing about the beach in front of his Malibu mansion. When she tells JJ about her rows with her parents about her acting career, JJ winces and nods, like he understands living under someone else’s expectations.

Kiara’s not sure how long they sit there talking, but she does know they are both working on their second beer when she finishes telling him a story about a high school beach party that got crashed by the cops, and he just tsks at her. 

“When we’re back in LA,” JJ says, putting his arm on the back of the couch, “I’ll have to show you the place where the Disney kids used to have our bonfire parties. No one will find you there – not the paparazzi, and certainly not the cops.”

Something about that statement sets a rock in Kiara’s stomach – like the cops have always been a secondary concern to the paparazzi for JJ. Like the legal system is less terrifying than the gossip columns. 

She supposes that’s probably true – the justice system is corrupt, but the court of public opinion doesn’t even pretend to follow any rules. 

She sips her beer and wonders why she’s about to subject herself to that. 

It’s the first lull in their conversation since they got in the car, and JJ’s quick to pick up on it. 

“What’s up?” he says, his foot reaching out to kick at her shin. 

Somewhere between sticky notes and photoshoots, Kiara thinks they’ve blurred the lines and become friends. Or at least, that’s what she tells herself when she blurts out, “does it ever scare you?” 

JJ stares at her for a second. “What?” 

Kiara fiddles with the sticker on her own beer bottle. “I don’t know. Everything about this?” JJ looks like he’s about to say something, but Kiara plows on. “Like, I love acting and I love being Thessa but the thought of the fans and the fame…” 

JJ waits another beat, like he’s expecting her to continue, and when she doesn’t, he nods. “It’s intimidating,” he admits. 

“But it gets easier, right?” 

JJ looks at her with something akin to pity, like he wishes he could agree with her. “I don’t think it ever gets easier.”

“You don’t seem to be affected by any of it,” Kiara says as carefully as she can. 

JJ scoffs like she’s just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “What part of my history with the tabloids led you to believe that?” 

Kiara bites her tongue. She’s been deliberately careful around the subject of his past – even tonight, when he’s been sharing story after story with her, there are things he doesn’t expand on and periods of his life he deliberately glosses over. 

“I don’t know what to make of the fucking tabloids,” Kiara says honestly. “I’m just talking about today. Or any day on set. I’ve personally never seen you shaken by it.” 

JJ thinks for a moment. “The day-to-day shit doesn’t bother me anymore. So, yeah, maybe it gets easier. I mean, what’s one photoshoot when you’ve done hundreds?” He shrugs, taking another swig of his beer.

“So you’re telling me, one day I’ll go through a photoshoot without almost calling my agent to tell her I’m out?”

JJ looks up at her suddenly, frowning. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

Kiara shakes her head. “No, it isn’t, not always. You–it was…” she trails off, trying to find the words to tell him without incriminating herself too much. “It’s easier when we’re doing shoots together,” she settles on. “Having someone there I was sort of familiar with. It makes it better.”

JJ nods. He bites on his lower lip for a second, almost lost in his own thoughts. “That usually helps,” he tells her. “But I still get in my head sometimes. Especially about the big shit.” 

“Like, premieres?” Kiara says. “Award shows?” 

JJ nods. “Live interviews, too. Man, do those fucking suck. But also just like – I don’t know. The existential shit too, I guess.” He runs a hand down his face. “When will I ever get to be a normal person in a grocery store? Like, I just want to buy fucking eggs.” 

Kiara looks at him, picturing him as just another guy in sweatpants and a T-shirt, picking out the ripest bananas and checking an egg carton to make sure none of them are broken. 

There’s an aura around JJ, though. Something captivating, and she doesn’t know if it’s because he’s grown up in the spotlight, or if it’s the very reason he was chosen out of millions of other hopeful actors to reach the highest stratospheres of fame. 

Whatever it is, it makes her not want to tell him the truth. Because the truth is, she doesn’t think he’ll ever be a normal person in a grocery store. She’s pretty sure it’s impossible, that no matter how mundane the task, he’d somehow look remarkable doing it. 

Kiara clears her throat. “Is that what you want?” she asks. “To go back to being normal?” 

JJ’s laugh is hollow. “I don’t have a version of normal to go back to,” he says. He scratches the back of his head, then runs a hand through his hair. “Not the way you do. My normal was whatever the fuck I was doing before this job, and I never want to go back to that if I can help it.” Once again, he’s glossing over the last few years, and she’s left to wonder what it all means, exactly. She’s heard rumors. About substance abuse and rehab and public screaming matches with a girl. About some leaked private photos, and a fight on set that left JJ’s hands bloody and a camera man with a broken nose. She wants to ask him about all of them, but she doesn’t think she can. “I’d like to experience a different version at some point. Maybe something like yours.”

The boy Kiara is becoming friends with and the television star who graced her screen are not wholly compatible with each other. She can’t imagine what his childhood looked like when he lived it on a set.

She doesn’t want to tell him that her normal was exceedingly boring – partially because she doesn’t want to burst his bubble, but also because it feels like she’d be flaunting something. Which is ridiculous, given that he grew up as an insanely wealthy celebrity and she grew up as the daughter of a middle class restaurant owner. 

Kiara’s pulled out of her thoughts when JJ’s phone rings. It’s on reflex that she checks the caller when she reaches for it, only realizing what she’s doing when she reads the name on the screen: savy baby❤️🤟🌹.

“Shit, sorry,” Kiara trips over her words, throwing the phone in JJ’s lap like it caught fire. “I didn’t mean to, it’s a shit reflex–”

“Don’t worry about it,” JJ tells her, a little too casual, perhaps. He shuts off the ringer. “That’s my ex. She liked to have control of her contact name.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I should change it.”

Savy Baby. Savannah Clements. JJ’s co-star from his Disney days, the on-and-off again girlfriend he was always tied up with in the tabloids. The girl mentioned in the public screaming match rumors.

“Right.”

“We’re, uh, broken up,” he adds. “For good.” 

Kiara’s not about to look too closely at the way a literal weight seems to lift off her chest at his words. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she says automatically, lying through her teeth. She’s actually not sorry at all, but she’d rather bite her own arm clean off of her body than admit that out loud. 

“I’m not,” JJ says plainly, then shrugs at her expression. “It’s messy. You know, with a co-star.” He chews on his lips for a moment, then unlocks the phone. “Actually, you know what…” He trails off, but Kiara can see him going into Savannah’s contact page, finger hovering for just a second over the delete contact button, before he taps the screen and clicks on delete when the screen prompts him to confirm.

Peterkin’s advice from all those weeks ago echoes through her head.

Just go do your job, don’t get caught with your nose in the powder, and don’t date your co-star.  

Kiara was doing phenomenally well with all three of those directives. Or, she thought she had been, but now, she looks across her couch to where JJ’s leaning back, and she wonders if maybe she’s treading some line she definitely shouldn’t cross. 

JJ’s staring down at his phone when she looks at him, and Kiara wonders if he’s been playing a game she doesn’t even understand.

“I don’t like messy,” Kiara mumbles looking down at her hands. “So add that to the list of things that scare me about this job, I guess.”

She feels JJ shift next to her, and when she looks at him again, he’s peering down at her with a small frown. Kiara pushes her eyebrows together, shaking her head in a silent question, but JJ only tuts under his breath before he pushes himself off the couch. “Alright, get up.”

Kiara’s frown deepens as she looks up from her defeated slump on the couch. “What?”

JJ walks over to grab his leather jacket off the back of the chair, shrugging it on and turning to her again. “Come on. We’re going out.”

Going out? They can’t go out. They have a movie to watch, and she’s too busy feeling miserable to get off this couch.

Still, she straightens up. “What? What about the movie?”

He walks over to stand in front of her, calf bumping into her knee. “The lion, the witch, and even the fucking wardrobe can wait.”

The small smile on his face is almost enough to convince her, but her fear of fucking up this one shot she’s been given is greater.

“JJ, come on–”

He shakes his head, effectively cutting her off. “I’m supposed to be the most depressed person on this show, not you, Kie.”

It’s the first time he’s called her Kie. Pope, Sarah, and John B have all called her some variation of it. Even Topper called her that, one cursed afternoon last week.

But not JJ. Not until today.

Her cheeks feel warm.

“I’m not depressed,” she argues, trying to sound preppy and upbeat.

“Maybe not,” JJ concedes, softer than he has any right to be, “but you’re stuck in your head right now. So come on.”

When he reaches his hand out for her, Kiara feels something lodge in her throat. She desperately wants to take it, even if it feels like she’s surrendering into something that she can’t quite begin to understand.

Trying to hide behind her facade again, she eyes his hand suspiciously. “Where are we going?”

JJ smiles. It’s one of those rare occasions when she doesn’t have to wonder if it’s genuine. “Just, trust me.”

The fact that she already does should scare her. It does, but not in the way everything else about working on this show does.

She takes his hand and allows him to pull her up. Doesn’t let go of it when she’s on her feet, pulling him along with her towards the coat rack instead. “If I get murdered, I’m haunting your ass.” 

She hasn’t been in Croatia long enough to memorize the streets, but she realizes he’s taking her to the ice skating rink right before they round the final corner, her excitement getting the best of her and immediately easing some of the tension in her shoulders.

JJ only grins when she turns to look at him, shrugging casually. “It seemed to put you in a better mood the last time,” he says by way of explanation.

It did. And it does this time, too.

As much of a mystery as JJ remains to her, Kiara’s starting to understand some things about him.

Like how he notices things. Big things, like how skating makes her happy. But also smaller things, like how she really liked that pair of yellow skates she got the last time, so he makes sure to ask for that same pair when he rents their skates.

Kiara smiles as she laces up the boots. She’s wearing a full face of makeup, hair still straightened from the shoot, but she hasn’t felt more like herself than she does right now.

She pulls her beanie lower when she’s done, peering at JJ over her shoulder and grinning. “Race you to the rink,” she blurts out, getting up and running awkwardly on the carpeted changing area.

JJ laughs loudly, cursing under his breath and muttering a muffled “that’s cheating!” before he’s on feet too, trying to catch up to her with a half-buckled skate. They nearly crash on top of each other when they reach the door to the rink, and Kiara’s thankful she doesn’t accidentally hit him in the face or take anyone out on her way.

The last thing she needs is to give her co-star a black eye.

She can’t remember the last time she had this much fun. Certainly not in Croatia, anyway.

That’s not to say she doesn’t love it here. She loves it a lot, actually. Loves working on the show, and getting to know her crew and castmates, and being able to do what she loves to do with people she’s growing increasingly close to.

But it still feels lonely sometimes, everyone she knows here leaning more towards co-worker than friend.

Not tonight, though. JJ’s laugh is as loud as hers, tonight, his dimple on display more often than not. She skates circles around him and he tries to catch her, smile infectious.

He tries to pull off a jump at one point and nearly breaks his neck in the process. Calls her an asshole when she laughs, and pulls her down on top of him when she offers him a hand to help him up. They end up almost nose to nose, and though JJ is laughing so hard his eyes are barely open, Kiara can’t fucking remember how breathing works when he’s this close to her. For a wild second, she wonders what it would feel like to kiss him. Remembers that she will find out if the show gets picked up for a second season. It leaves her flustered, an uncomfortable warmth settling in the pit of her stomach, and she can’t get up fast enough.

She skates away, after. Shoves her beanie in her pockets and pretends she’s mad so she can hide the unnatural flush in her cheeks and get her breathing back to a normal rhythm. She goes off on her own for a few minutes, gliding in slow circles on the ice and trying not to think about how she already wishes she was next to him.

Just go do your job, don’t get caught with your nose in the powder, and don’t date your co-star.  

She shakes her head. Takes a deep breath. Turns around and finds JJ skating towards her, something more solemn on his face.

“Sorry, that was a dick move–”

“No, no, no,” she cuts him off quickly. She would’ve actually done the same, if the roles were reversed. It’s not his fault that she can’t keep her shit together. “I just got winded, but I’m good–”

“I shouldn’t have–”

“No, Jay–” she stops talking the second the nickname slips past her lips, eyes wide as they dart all over JJ’s face to see if she’s overstepped. He doesn’t say anything. Only allows a small smile to slip, his nod so subtle that she wonders if she imagines it. “I love this song,” she blurts out, desperately clinging to any fucking thread that can make this moment less awkward.

She really doesn’t love this song. The only emotion she relates to Hey, soul sister by Train is, in fact, vague annoyance, because her mom was obsessed with it when it came out and played it every hour on the hour at The Wreck. She’s pretty sure it’s been over 10 years, but some very scarred part of her still flinches every time she hears the song’s opening guitar notes, or a rogue Hee-ey .

Thankfully, whatever JJ sees on her face must make it clear that she’s ready to move on from the conversation, because he smiles lopsidedly, rolling his eyes. “I hate this song.”

The laugh that bubbles up her throat is only slightly insane. She can’t exactly admit the truth now, so she starts humming along, trying not to feel too nauseous. JJ shakes his head, eyes scanning her face with what can only be described as amusement. She almost starts to feel self-conscious with how long he’s just been looking , when he starts skating again, twirling around her and belting along to the words of the song.

Kiara lets out another undignified laugh, caught off guard, then pulls out her sunglasses, propping them on her nose with flair, and starts dancing along to the song, as JJ continues to circle on the ice around her. He even pulls out his phone at one point, linking their fingers together when she’s close enough, and twirling her around to the beat of the song.

So, maybe this song doesn’t suck after all.

He takes one last shot of her before he tucks his phone back in his pocket, running a hand through his hair and mumbling something about working on his social media presence.

Kiara grins wider.

It’s well past midnight when they’re on the way back to their apartment complex, and Kiara has never been more thankful she has the day off tomorrow.

JJ throws his phone in her lap, giving her control of the playlist. She hums, feeling content and comfortable enough to cross her legs under her. She scrolls up and down the playlist, finally settling on a Bob Marley song. Too late, Kiara wonders if she’s made a grave mistake with her choice, but then Is This Love starts playing over the speakers and she’s in too deep to back out.

Earlier this week, Shoupe told them they are getting a break from filming for Christmas and New Year’s. A little over two weeks, according to Peterkin. Kiara’s staying in Croatia. Her mom is especially excited about coming to see her. She heard Cleo talking to JJ while they were at the shoot today. He’s going back to California. Something about work commitments and brand deals. 

She wonders if he’ll miss her.

“I can give you a ride,” JJ says in a low voice, snapping her out of her increasingly dangerous thoughts. 

Kiara feels like she may have missed a chunk of conversation, because she has no idea what he’s talking about. “What?”

“Whenever we’re scheduled to start or end days at the same time,” he explains, eyes firmly on the road as he sits up unnaturally straight, both hands braced on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to call your driver.”

Kiara frowns. “But I always have to be there at least an hour before you have to be.  Hair and makeup takes much longer for me, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“‘S’okay,” JJ shrugs, shooting her a small smile. “I can be a little early, it won’t kill me.”

Something lodges itself in her throat. She wants to say something back. Should say something back, because he really doesn’t need to do that. The argument is right on the tip of her tongue, about to spill out, until she spies the lit storefront at the end of the street, the sign flashing in a bright red color. 

Despite the exhaustion she feels, bone-deep and aching, Kiara sits up straight.

She lights up, the idea forming before she can even think about it. She suspects she would not follow through with it in broad daylight, when she’s not this deliriously tired.

But right now, she’s on a high from having one of the best nights she’s had in Croatia so far, all thanks to JJ, and she wants to give him something in return.

“Stop the car,” she orders, and JJ turns to look at her with a pair of raised eyebrows.

“Right here?”

She nods. “Right here. Wherever you can park. There’s something we gotta do.”

“Kie, what–”

“JJ,” she cuts him off, throwing him a look. “Just, trust me.”

His smile is small and crooked, but she doesn’t miss it, or the way he mutters “yes ma’am,” his voice almost fond .

She jumps out of the car when he parks, practically skipping down the sidewalk until she comes to a stop in front of the sliding doors of the grocery store, waiting for JJ to catch up to her.

He frowns lightly when he realizes where they are, stopping next to her with his hands tucked in his pockets and turning a pair of suspicious eyes towards her. “A grocery store?”

Kiara shrugs. “We need eggs.”

JJ looks even more confused. “Eggs?”

Kiara’s anxiety is exceptionally low tonight, but even with the high she’s on, the doubt starts creeping in when JJ doesn’t seem to catch on at all.

She swallows thickly. Tries to sound braver than she feels, all of a sudden. “Tonight you can be a normal person at a grocery store. You can buy eggs.”

JJ doesn’t say anything for the longest time, and Kiara thinks this was a mistake. It’s surely the dumbest idea she’s ever had. After he gave her a near-perfect night, she has to go and fuck it up by thinking she knows him enough to think he would appreciate something as dumb as this.

She’s about ready to tell him it was a joke and tail it out of there when he rubs his nose, running a hand through his hair and then nodding to himself. “This is…”

“Stupid,” she winces, grimacing and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Sorry, I–”

“No, no, it’s not,” JJ reassures quickly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and pulling her hand down. He waits until she’s looking at him before he continues. “It’s not. Thanks, Kie.” He drops her hand, but his smile doesn’t fade. Kiara thinks maybe she hasn’t fucked it all up. “You better start brushing up on those fake produce codes,” he tells her. 

If she wasn’t feeling buzzed out of her mind right now, she would have a comeback for this. Instead, she just laughs like her life depends on it, and tries to ignore the way JJ’s eyes light up when she does.

“Let’s go buy some fucking eggs.”