Chapter 8: 7

🎬💝📸

After wrapping for the day, I head back to my trailer, eager to unwind. My phone buzzes with a text from Ariana Greenblatt.

Dinner tonight? My treat.

I smile, grateful for the distraction. Ariana and I have been friends for years, and being around her always feels like a breath of fresh air. She's one of the few people who sees past the image and understands the real me.

🎬💝📸

Later that evening, we're seated at a quiet corner table in a trendy restaurant. Ariana orders a ridiculous amount of food, and we spend the next hour catching up and laughing. It's the first time in days I've felt like myself.

"So, how's it going with Walker?" Ariana asks, raising an eyebrow.

"He's... fine," I say, shrugging. "Annoying, but fine."

"Annoying, huh?" she teases, leaning forward with a smirk. "That's not what the tabloids are saying."

I groan, dropping my head into my hands. "Don't remind me. My manager's already warned me to keep my distance. Apparently, 'friendly banter' isn't the image I should be going for right now."

Ariana's expression turns serious as she tilts her head. "Do you want to keep your distance, though?"

"I don't care about Walker," I say quickly. Too quickly. "He's just... not my type."

"Your type?" Ariana raises an eyebrow. "Ava, when was the last time you even liked someone?"

I laugh, but it comes out hollow.

The truth is, I've been so focused on maintaining my image that I haven't let myself get close to anyone in years. Not romantically, not even platonically. Except for Ariana, of course.

"It's not that easy for me," I admit after a moment. "You know how it is. Everything I do gets scrutinized. If I slip up, if I make a mistake..." I trail off, unable to finish the thought.

"If you make a mistake, so what?" Ariana says, her tone blunt but not unkind. "You're allowed to be human, Ava. People will still love you—even if you don't nail every line or, God forbid go out for tacos with a co-star."

I can't help but smile at her sarcasm. "I wish it were that simple."

"It is that simple," she says, pointing a fry at me. "You just make it complicated because you're scared. You're so worried about being perfect that you don't let anyone see the real you. And trust me, the real you is way cooler than whatever version you think you're supposed to be."

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I play with the straw in my drink, avoiding her gaze. "I don't know how to stop. It's like... I don't even know who the real me is anymore."

Ariana leans forward, her expression softening. "Then maybe it's time to figure that out. Forget about your manager, or the tabloids, or what anyone else expects from you. Do something for you, Ava. Something reckless. Something fun."

"Fun?" I ask, giving her a skeptical look.

"Yes, fun!" she says, grinning. "Go Smoke weed with me, do shots at a house party, hookup with some rando—something. You're 15, not 45. You're allowed to live a little."

I shake my head, laughing despite myself. "I do do that, and you know that, i haven't for a while but..."

"And you're boring," she shoots back with a grin. "But we can work on that."

We both laugh, and for a moment, it feels like everything is normal. But as we leave the restaurant, the flash of cameras reminds me that nothing in my life ever stays simple for long.

The paparazzi swarm us as we step outside, shouting questions and snapping photos.

"Ava! Is it true you're dating Walker Scobell?"

"Ariana, are you her wingwoman tonight?"

"Ava, over here! Smile for us!"

I plaster on a polite smile, gripping Ariana's arm as we weave through the chaos.

"Fun, huh?" I mutter under my breath.

Ariana laughs. "Hey, at least they didn't ask about your type again."

"Don't jinx it," I say, rolling my eyes.

🎬💝📸

By the time we're safely in the car, I'm already dreading what tomorrow's headlines will say. But as I glance over at Ariana, who's scrolling through insta like nothing happened, I feel a flicker of something I haven't felt in a long time: freedom. Maybe she's right. Maybe it's time to stop caring so much about what everyone else thinks.

"Okay," I say suddenly, breaking the silence.

Ariana looks up. "Okay what?"

"Okay... let's do something fun."

Her grin lights up the car. "Oh, you're in trouble now."

🎬💝📸

The next day on set, Walker corners me during a break. "Hey, I heard you went out with Ariana last night."

I blink, caught off guard. "How do you know that?"

"The internet," he says, holding up his phone. Sure enough, there's a photo of Ariana and me leaving the restaurant, surrounded by paparazzi. "Looks like you're not as boring as you pretend to be."

I cross my arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he says with a shrug. "Just that you're a lot more fun when you're not trying to be perfect."

His words hit a nerve, but I refuse to let it show. "You don't know anything about me."

"Maybe not," he admits. "But I've seen enough to know you're different around people you trust."

I'm stunned into silence. How does he see through me so easily? It's unsettling, and I hate it. "Well, congratulations," I say finally. "You've figured me out."

Walker laughs. "Not even close. But I'll get there."

🎬💝📸

The next time Walker approaches me, his tone is different. Less playful, more frustrated. "Ava," he says, stopping me as I head to the craft services table. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," I quip, hoping to deflect.

"Why won't you let people see the real you?" he presses, ignoring my attempt at humor.

I freeze, caught off guard. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do," he counters, his voice low. "You're so different when you're with people like Ariana. You laugh, you're relaxed. But on set, you're this... robot. It's like you're scared to be human."

"That's ridiculous," I say, though my voice lacks conviction. "I'm just professional."

"No, you're hiding," he snaps. "And it's exhausting to watch."

His words sting more than I'd like to admit. "Why do you even care?" I ask, my voice sharper than I intend.

"Because I've seen what you're like when you're not pretending," he says. "And it's infuriating that you won't let anyone else see that."

"Maybe I don't want them to," I say, folding my arms. "Maybe it's none of your business."

Walker lets out a frustrated laugh. "You're right. It's not my business. But don't expect me to sit here and act like I don't see it. You're better than this, Ava."

Before I can respond, he walks away, leaving me standing there with a knot of emotions I can't untangle. Anger, and something else I can't quite name. For the first time in a long time, someone's called me out. And I don't know what to do about it.

🎬💝📸