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The scene began with a bangâliterally.
Walker slammed the fake door shut with such force that it echoed through the soundstage, making me jump despite myself.
The intensity in his movements demanded attention, and it felt like the air in the room shifted. For a second, I almost forgot my own character's pain, too consumed by how effortlessly he'd slipped into Ethan's raw anger.
"That's it, Lily!" he shouted, the veins in his neck straining as he stepped deeper into character. His voice filled the room, rough and full of unfiltered frustration. "I can't keep doing this anymore. You shut everyone out. You act like you're fine when you're not. Do you even care about anyone but yourself?"
His words cut through the space like a knife, his delivery so real it felt personal. My heart thudded against my ribs as I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I couldn't let him throw me off.
"Don't you dare turn this around on me, Ethan," I fired back, the rehearsed venom sharp on my tongue. "You're the one who left! You're the one who gave up!"
The words came out clean, crisp, and precise, exactly how I'd practiced them. I hit every note I'd planned. But as the weight of the scene lingered, even I could feel the hollowness in my delivery. Something was missingâsomething intangible and raw that Walker seemed to have no trouble channeling.
Walker didn't break character, stepping closer to me with an intensity that made my pulse spike. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur, meant only for me. "Stop acting."
"What?" I whispered, caught off guard as his piercing eyes locked onto mine.
"You're performing," he muttered, his gaze unwavering. "But you're not feeling it. Is this just another scene to you, or does it actually mean something?"
My blood ran hot, anger rising to the surface. Heat rushed to my face, and I could feel the grip of my tightly controlled facade slipping. "I'm doing the scene exactly as it's written," I hissed back, my voice trembling with barely contained fury.
"Exactly," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching in what looked like a mix of frustration and challenge. "And that's the problem."
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"Cut!" The director's voice sliced through the tension, and I flinched. He walked toward us, gesturing animatedly. "Ava, we're close, but I need more vulnerability. Right now, it's too... polished. It needs to feel like you're barely holding it together, like Lily's whole world is crumbling right here and now."
I nodded stiffly, the director's words blending into the growing storm in my head. Too polished. Too perfect.
How was that a bad thing?
Meanwhile, Walker stood there, relaxed as ever, like this wasn't his third flawless take in a row. He leaned against the fake wall, arms crossed, watching me with an unreadable expression.
"You okay?" he asked casually, though there was something sharper beneath the surface.
"I'm fine," I snapped, pulling away as the crew reset the cameras.
"You don't look fine," he pressed, stepping closer.
I glared at him, my fists clenching. "Why do you even care?"
He shrugged, tilting his head in that infuriatingly calm way of his. "Maybe I don't. But if you're gonna drag me through this scene a dozen more times, I'd rather it not be a waste of time."
"Don't lecture me about acting," I bit out, my voice low and venomous. "I've been doing this a lot longer than you have."
Walker didn't flinch, his smirk fading into something more serious. "Yeah? Then why does it feel like I'm the only one actually trying here?"
The jab landed like a sucker punch. My face burned, a mix of shame and fury bubbling up inside me. I opened my mouth to fire back, but for once, I didn't have anything sharp enough to counter him.
He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Look, I get it. You've got this whole perfect image thing going on. But newsflash: nobody's perfect, Ava. Not even you."
The words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. He didn't say it cruelly; that almost made it worse.
"Just focus on what Lily's feeling," he added, his tone softer. "Not on what you think she should look like."
I didn't respond, turning away from him as the crew signaled we were ready to roll again.
"Quiet on set!"
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The cameras rolled, and this time, the scene felt different before I even opened my mouth. Walker's presence was like a live wire, his performance pulling me into the moment whether I liked it or not.
"Don't you dare turn this around on me, Ethan!" I shouted, my voice cracking unexpectedly. The crack wasn't rehearsedâit was real. "You don't know what it's like to be me. You don't know what it's like to feel like you're never enough!"
My chest heaved, and for the first time, the words felt like they belonged to me, not just to Lily. My throat tightened as emotions I hadn't planned to feel welled up.
Walker's eyes widened slightly, and for a second, the flicker of surprise on his face didn't seem like acting. He stepped closer, his tone fierce but quiet. "Then tell me, Lily. Tell me what it's like. Stop hiding behind that wall and just... tell me."
The silence in the room was deafening.
My vision blurred with unshed tears, and I let them fall. I wasn't even thinking about the lines anymore. All I could think about was how raw and real it all feltâhow the scene wasn't just a scene anymore.
When the director finally called "Cut," the weight in the room lingered. For a moment, no one moved. Then, slowly, a ripple of applause broke out from the crew.
I wiped my eyes quickly, avoiding Walker's gaze as I stepped off set.
My heart was pounding, my hands trembling. It wasn't the applause that shook meâit was the unfamiliar sensation of letting go, of not trying to be perfect for once.
"Hey," Walker said, his voice low as he caught up to me.
I turned, already putting my walls back up. "What the fuck do you want, Walker?"
"I just..." He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "That was good. Really good."
I narrowed my eyes at him, not ready to let my guard down. "Don't get used to it."
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