𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐘 | callum turner

015, why now?

MESSY
015, why now?

IT'S BREWING. The characters first kiss. Our first kiss. Which holds a lot more weight now than it would have a week or two ago, now that I think I love him, and I'm not with Drew.

I'm called to the set, after hours of camping out in my trailer hoping a meteoroids will strike us and cause enough damage to hold the shoot until I can figure out how to not get too attached to this kiss.

But it doesn't and instead I silently ready myself in the mirror. As I follow the PA and I can't tell if the people who look at me as I walk past can tell that my heart is racing, and my palms are sweating.

The fact I'm about to kiss my best friend for the first time. That fact even worse because it's not just a kiss, it will change everything ( at least for me). And I can't pretend that this won't open a conversation that I don't think I'm ready for.

I walk onto the set, smile politely at the crew who greet me and I see him. His makeup being touched up as he leans against the kitchen counter, facing away from me.

I feel my breath hitch as the makeup team walk away and he turns around, the bright light he stands under in such a dim lit set makes him so much more vivid. His eyes glimmer and my legs go weak.

We're called over by the director and I act like I'm listening and not too engrossed in the fact I'm about to kiss the man who slings his arm around my shoulders and how it hangs there.

I turn to him, his smile too bright for me. He looks too excited as he furrows his brows as he faces me " ready for all your dreams to come true Hartley?" he asks and I have to physically pull myself together.

Instead of nodding and murmuring a compliant 'yes', I roll my eyes and mutter back a " shut up."

He lets go of me and I take my place, trying to remember my lines and pretend that the next few minutes won't change the outcome of my life ( bit dramatic, but I'm an actor what can you expect).

And action is called, I'm toying with the prop dirty dishes that are in the sink. I deliver my lines although it seems a blur, half of the scene I'm facing away from him.

Only brought back by the way his hands move to ride up my waist, taking the material of my dress with it. The hitch of my breath not scripted, neither is the way my head lulls back to hit his shoulder as he whispers in my ear.

" do I make you nervous Amelia?" he asks and I'm ever so viciously pulled back into the fact this is an act. I stay in character, turning around.

And there he is. That smirk that curves onto his lips, creating dimples that I have spent years gently poking my fingers into. Looking into those eyes, fuck those eyes.

They're blue, everyone who's ever seen a picture of him could tell you that. But only the minimal could tell you that there's a small ring of this ivy coloured green that bleeds from his iris into the blue. Many miss it, but I don't. I never have. I look into those eyes and I think even a Monet painting of them hung up in the Louvre couldn't even do them justice.

How beautiful they are
The absolute perfection of them
How much I adore them. And how much I adore him.

I'm lifted onto a nearby counter, and my eyes don't shift from his. Absolutely enamoured by him and his eternal beauty.

I feel his hand brush my cheek, the pads of his thumb gently pushes into my skin as he drags it down my cheek. My heart is beating rapidly, I don't think I've been this close to him ever.