I had a full day of scenes with Joshua. Lately, I've successfully avoided awkward encounters with him. We'd often part ways as soon as our scene ended. It wasn't ideal, and I knew the press tour would be a nightmare, but I'd find a way to cope.

Like I always do.

Ella has been watching all my scenes with a strange level of enthusiasm. I'm almost certain she's concussed, considering the compliments she's been giving me between breaks.

"I'm actually in awe of you," she tells me.

I scrunch up my nose. "Can we go back a couple of days when your favourite pastime was offending me?"

She grins. In a strange way, she was becoming somewhat of a friend to me. I wasn't sure I'd ever admit it to her, but I respected her brutal honesty. It was a reminder of how little people liked to tell me the truth.

My eyes move from hers to find Jack. He has his arms crossed over his chest as he stands in the corner, eyes moving slowly across the set. I watch them linger somewhere for a moment. His stoic expression shifts as a small frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

I follow his movement, slightly intrigued.

Jack's eyes seem to stay on Joshua as he moves sullenly around the room. I don't think he has any other emotion. I'd tried to get anything out of him whilst co-starring in this film — anger, aggression, sarcasm — but he always gave me that same thin-lipped expression.

When I look back at Jack, I find him watching me. For a moment, I wonder what he sees. It's embarrassingly insecure, so I put it away and flip him the finger. He doesn't smile.

"Please work that out," Ella sighs.

"What?"

"The weirdness between you and my brother. It's so blatantly obvious that he's more than your bodyguard. I'm sick of the longing looks between the two of you."

"I—"

Before I can object, the director calls for me, and I'm whisked away from Ella. I hate that she's had the last word, that I didn't have time to justify what she thinks she's seen. That it's all in her head.

Sure, there had been some strange moments between us, but it never amounted to anything. Once the craziness had settled and my stalker was caught, I was sure Jack would move on to a new, more interesting celebrity with bigger issues.

A feeling very similar to jealousy suddenly envelops me, but it's gone before I have time to process it. I need to focus on the scene, ignoring the outside noise.

Joshua stands in front of me.

It's supposed to be a big emotional scene, but he's completely deadpan. I wonder whether he will be able to summon the feelings in time for the director to cue us in.

"You look confused," he says. I'm startled that he's talking to me off script. For a second, I wonder if we are rolling and I've missed my lines.

"I...do?"

"It's the bodyguard. He throws you off."

Why was everyone suddenly analysing me? Worst of all, was it that obvious? I thought I was better at hiding my emotions.

Joshua brushes a strand of his dark hair out of his eyes, watching me closely. It's almost unsettling if I wasn't already used to his odd behaviour.

"I've noted a lot of tension between you two. Not the aggressive type. More... pent up."

"Okay, stop talking," I breathe. "Christ. I can't remember my fucking line."

"It's always been us against the world," he recites for me.

"Thanks," I mumble, right before the scene begins.

It takes twenty long, painful takes before the director is happy enough with what I've given him. Joshua walks away before I can tell him to never throw me off like that again.

Even if, deep down, I know he wasn't the real problem.

—————————————————————

The car ride home is filled with silence. Ella is asleep in the backseat after a long day of exploring the set. I try to focus on her soft snores as we pass through the darkness back to the apartment. I'm blinded by the headlights as cars pass us by, finding their own destinations.

I try my best not to glance at Jack. Joshua's words stuck with me, and I'd had my worst day on set since I was a kid, nervously trying to remember my lines. I'd thought I'd grown out of those nerves fairly quickly at child, when I realised how cutthroat the industry was and just how replaceable I could be.

"I think we should talk," Jack suddenly says.

"What about?"

"Let me drop Ella back at the apartment, and I'll come to you."

"Sure," I say, knowing there is no point arguing because he has his own key and will barge his way through my front door regardless.

We pull into the underground parking of the apartment. The valet takes the keys as we step out of the car. Ella stirs in the back seat, before unbuckling her seatbelt slowly as she wakes.

I go to walk towards the lift, but Jack grabs my wrist. "I don't want you walking off alone."

I'm suddenly very aware of the feel of his fingers on my skin, and I'm brought back once again to Joshua's words from today. He releases me, and I take a step back, holding my arm against my chest as though he's wounded me.

He frowns but doesn't say anything as Ella dramatically falls from the car.

"I'm exhausted," she groans. "How do you film all day?"

I huff a laugh as she rubs at her eyes. I walk side by side with Ella as Jack takes up the rear. Ella continues to yawn and grumble about the less glamorous side of being an actress, about the long days and the late nights I must endure. She doesn't stop talking all the way up until we reach our floor.

Jack tosses Ella his keys. "I'll be back soon. I need to talk with Berkley."

"Okay," she grins. "I'm sure you have lots to talk about."

"Ella," Jack says, a hint of a warning in his tone.

Ella laughs, waving me goodbye as she walks down the corridor towards Jack's apartment.

I turn towards my end of the hall, not waiting to see if Jack is following. I already know he is without checking. He always is.

I unlock my door, pushing my way inside. I breathe a sigh of relief to be home, away from prying eyes. I let my shoulders slump as I take off my shoes and jacket, ready for my bed, much like Ella.

"Have a seat," Jack says.

I practically fall into the chair, resting my face on the palm of my hand. "What was so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

I watch Jack work his jaw for a moment, raking a hand through his hair. It's tousled now, some strands stick up in haphazard ways. I find myself drawn to the idea of smoothing them out, but I restrain myself, placing my hands in my lap.

"I've been watching Joshua recently," he begins.

"Okay?" I frown, puzzled where this could be going.

"Something is off about him. I'm worried that he's somehow involved in what has been going on with you."

I stare at him for a moment, waiting to see if he's joking. "I mean, sure. He's a little strange and disconnected at times, but I don't think he's capable of leaving threatening messages and breaking into my apartment."

"Based on what? What do you really know about this guy? Not to mention, he could easily have access to your trailer. He could have been the one to leave those roses."

A flash of memory comes to me. My trailer, the roses dripping with red paint.

I shake my head. "I don't know. I just feel like being different doesn't make you a crazy stalker. I think he just likes keeping to himself. Sure, he's super awkward and has made my job anything but easy, but I just think that's how he is."

"Why are you suddenly defending this guy?" Jack snaps. He rarely ever snaps at me. He gets annoyed, he frowns, he sighs at my actions, but he doesn't yell.

I watch him closely for a moment; there's a hint of an expression I can't quite decipher. He looks confused, almost. And it hits me that this has nothing to do with my safety at all.

"Oh my god," I laugh. "You're jealous of Joshua?"

"No, Berkley. I'm just doing my job. I don't trust the guy, and I'm alerting the rest of the team tomorrow. I just wanted to inform you first that—"

I stand from the chair. "No, I don't believe you. I've been working with Joshua for a while, and you're only just bringing this up now? Why?"

"Because I've been working on reasons why I should trust any one of the people on set with you, and right now, he's at the very top of that list."

I wave a hand at him dismissively, walking towards my bedroom. Piles of boxes still sit in the corner of my room, filled with clothes. Mostly clothes that were given to me, untouched and unworn. I hadn't had time to unpack yet. I wasn't sure it was even worth the trouble, considering I could be made to move again at any given moment.

Before I have time to shut the door behind me, Jack barges into my room. "I'm sick and tired of you walking off on me when I'm trying to talk to you. You're the one who agreed to maintain a sense of professionalism between us, yet—"

"And how well has that been going? You're literally arguing with me because you're jealous of a guy I work with."

"How can you not see that he could be a potential threat to you? Why are you so okay with the fact that someone is really trying to harm you, Berkley? This isn't a game. You can't trust anyone."

I whirl around on him so fast that I make myself dizzy. "You think I don't know that?" I shout, jabbing a finger at his chest. "I know this isn't a game, Jack. I don't need you to constantly keep reminding me of that! I'm living this reality every day, where I wake up wondering what will happen to me next."

"Then start taking me seriously, Berkley. Because I feel like you love to avoid the fact that this is serious. I don't want to keep reminding you how scary the fucking world can be, that some asshole wants to hurt you and that all I want to do is protect you from the pain they are so willing to inflict."

I'm breathing rapidly, so hard that I can't stop my chest from rising and falling dramatically.He's watching me closely, eyes scanning my face for any sign of danger. He wants to know what I'll do next; he's trained to predict my actions. I doubt he could ever predict this.

Right now, I just need to feel anchored to something. To feel as though I have control.

Grabbing the back of his neck, I pull his lips to mine. He doesn't flinch, he doesn't even pull back. He gives in to me as I slide my hand up to his shirt, holding onto it for dear life.