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writtenfangirl · 1 year ago

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Madness

I wrote this so long ago and then abandoned it because I didn’t know if the ending was satisfactory or not. I thought it would have a greater plot as well but when I couldn’t find it, I was dissatisfied until I reread it and realized the prose was too good not to publish.

Fluff but also a little bit of angst if you squint hard enough.

In which Benedict Bridgerton finally reveals the truth.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful, if Benedict was being perfectly honest with himself. Not the kind of beauty that had him picking up a paint brush and painstakingly striking an easel with lovely swirls of color but the kind of beauty that distracted him, made him brood in a dim corner of the room, watching the little twists of her mouth and the subtle way she arched a brow. Beauty to the point of distraction, like spending hours watching shooting stars dash across the night sky, not realizing as dawn approached on the horizon.

It was utterly maddening.

She was utterly maddening.

How was he meant to live, to exist and breathe, to witness such great beauty and yet have none of the capacity, the right, to keep it?

Just a glance from her, a single curve of her lips, and Benedict could feel his faith in God strengthening as easily as he could deny the Lord’s existence. Only a benevolent God could create such ecstatic beauty and yet no benevolent God could exist in this world if Benedict had to bear the cruelty of Y/N’s indifference.

Maddening.

He sighed, the sound bereft as he continued to watch her charm the eligible men of the ton. She had a veritable cabal of men gathered around her and if any other debutant had been in her position, they surely would have been overwhelmed by now.

But not Y/N.

Never Y/N.

With her head held high and her smile demure, she directed the men as easily as if she was holding court. A slight clearing of the throat and already, someone had a glass of lemonade in their hand while a flap of her hand would have the men falling over themselves in an attempt to get her a chair.

A queen holding court, indeed.

Benedict rolled his eyes at the man to her right, who practically shoved at the man on his left in order to catch Y/N’s attention. Not that it really mattered though, especially not when Y/N’s attention was focused on Benedict.

Even from across the room, the tension between them felt palpable. Exhilarating. It always had been with Y/N. Thick and smooth, the connection between them as tangible as their own beating hearts. Just a shared look between them and the world fell silent, the edges of his vision practically darkening at the edges until he saw only her.

Beautiful. Even as her face contorted with hurt for the briefest of seconds, her eyes pulling away from him and returning to the crowd of men that surrounded her.

Benedict gritted his teeth, the only sign of annoyance he let himself show.

“I see you are not quite so enamored with our diamond.”

Benedict’s head whipped to the left, finding Lady Danbury watching him with those shrewd eyes of hers. The old crone had her cane gripped tightly in her hands and Benedict fought his grimace at the phantom pain that shot up from his ankles. The dowager countess had a terrible habit of whacking gentlemen she didn’t like with that sturdy cane of hers and Benedict had felt the brunt of that pain far too many times for his liking.

Still, as a gentleman, he couldn’t very well ignore the woman. It would have been terribly rude of him to and it went against every fiber of the etiquette that had been drilled to him as a child.

He spared Y/N another glance before he spoke. “You think all those men enamored with her?”

“I think they think themselves enamored by her,” Lady Danbury said. “She is quite a beauty and accomplished too, I hear. Are you acquainted with the young lady?”

He had been, when he was young. As recently as a few months ago, Benedict had counted Y/N as one of his dearest friends but with everything that transpired between them…

“We are familiar with one another.”

Lady Danbury arched a brow, directing her attention back to Y/N. She was animatedly speaking with Anthony and Colin, the only time the entire evening where her smile didn’t seem a little bit forced. “Your brothers seem friendly with her. Why aren’t you?”

Because he was a stupid, bloody, idiot who didn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut, that’s why.

But his pride would never let him say that, especially not in front of Lady Danbury. “We are familiar with each other.” He repeated, voice tight.

Lady Danbury’s eyes flickered. “I seem to recall your mother telling me about how you and the Lady Y/N were thick as thieves not so long ago.”

Bloody hell, the old crone was relentless. He didn’t want to talk about his and Y/N’s falling out, especially not with her.

He suddenly whirled, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, I believe I hear someone calling me.”

No one was calling him but not even his impeccable manners could make him stay.

Lady Danbury harrumphed. “I may be old, boy, but I am not deaf.”

“Definitely hear someone calling me.” Benedict even cupped a hand, placing it on the side of his mouth before he yelled a quick, “I’ll be right there!” He turned back to Lady Danbury, who was looking at him as if she knew his claims were a lie. “Lady Danbury, if you’ll excuse me.”

The dowager countess simply gave Benedict a knowing look yet let him go.

He ducked into the crowd towards… bloody hell he couldn’t find anyone he would rather talk to. His brothers were still off speaking with Y/N and he didn’t feel like speaking with his mother, who would likely hound him about his fight with Y/N. Which left the last person of their party, Eloise. A quick scan of the room revealed his sister in the other side of the room, conspiratorially whispering to her best friend, Penelope Featherington.

He zoomed towards them, turning his back on Y/N and Lady Danbury.

Eloise caught his eye as he approached and her lips pursed in displeasure. “Why do you look as if you’re expecting me to bail you out of a horrible situation.”

“Can’t I see my favorite sister with joy in my face without being suspected of ill intent?”Benedict said with a grin before bowing to Penelope, who returned the gesture with her own curtsy.

Penelope ducked her head to suppress a giggle.

Eloise rolled her eyes at him. “What do you want?”

“To ask you why you’re sulking in a corner instead of dancing despite—“ he pulled at the dance card in her wrist, every single line filled with names that were unfamiliar to him. “Did you put fake names in your dance card?”

Eloise snatched her wrist back. “Yes. I thought that with Y/N grabbing the attention of so many of the gentlemen, I would be spared the embarrassment of having to entertain any gentlemen tonight. Unfortunately, I was wrong.”

Benedict turned to Penelope. “How many approached her?”

“Six,” Penelope smirked, “and those six quickly turned right back around.”

“Well with a full dance card, I’m not at all surprised.”

Eloise rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Spare me the lecture, brother. I’m sure I’ll hear enough from mother tonight.”

“She caught you?”

“After Eloise turned down the sixth one, Lady Violet began to suspect,” Penelope explained.

Benedict grinned. “When have you known me to lecture you?”

She gave him a saccharine smile, the kind that Benedict always knew would end with her barbed words. “Aren’t you meant to be fawning over Y/N? You’d done it most of our life.”

He bristled at her words.

Penelope shot them a curious look. “You never told me you were acquainted with the lady?”

“Hadn’t I?” Eloise frowned. “Lady Y/L/N’s family and ours have been acquainted for ages. Of course, she rarely ever came to London and if it hadn’t been for her father’s recent passing she wouldn’t have had a season at all. Mama had held hope that perhaps one of my dear brothers would begin to take some responsibility and marry her.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper that was so loud, it still reached Benedict’s ears. “Personally, I always thought Benedict would offer. He and Y/N had a special bond growing up. Even Daphne thinks so.”

Benedict had never hit a woman before but perhaps, just this once, excuses could be made for one’s sisters.

“So, well acquainted then,” Penelope said with a slight smile.

“I do recall Benedict pining after Y/N for years,” Eloise mused, uncaring as Benedict’s mood soured. “You never did tell me why it is you suddenly became estranged”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” He grumbled.

Eloise batted eyes innocently. “Irritable today, aren’t you, brother? Could it possibly be because of the cadre of men that hound every one of Y/N’s footsteps?”

“I have changed my mind. Francesca is now my favorite sister.”

“I love you too, Benedict,” she all but grinned.

He turned his attention back to Y/N, who, to his surprise, had taken her leave.

“She’s in the garden, if you wish to speak to her,” Eloise said, noting his wandering eyes and nodding towards the open veranda at the side.

“What gave you the impression that I would like to speak to her?” He tried to do his best nonchalant impression but not even Benedict was convinced of his own performance.

Eloise simply rolled her eyes at him before tugging Penelope’s arm. “With Y/N taking her respite, I imagine there will be a sudden influx of gentlemen who would like to dance. Let us make ourselves scarce.” And she pulled Penelope along, the red head offering Benedict an apologetic look.

He glanced at the crowd once again before letting his feet carry him through the veranda and out towards the garden. There were still many people milling about outside that granted them protection from scandal but it was much more intimate than the loud din of the ballroom.

The night was cool, the spring air serene compared to the humidity of the ballroom.

He spied Y/N, her back turned against the door. Upon hearing his approach, she sighed. “Good sir, if you did not understand me, I wish to be al—“ she turned and her words died at her lips at the sight of him. “Oh. It’s you.”

She looked even lovelier up close. She always did. Whether dressed in a simple frock with her long hair flowing down her back or dressed ornately with jewels adorning her, she always looked lovelier up close.

“What do you want, Benedict,” Y/N said, dropping that societal mask she employed inside.

“To apologize.”

She shook her head. “There is nothing to apologize for. You asked for my hand under false pretenses, I rejected you. End of story.“

“Under false pretenses?” He echoed, his own tone turning sharp. “You think my proposal to be insincere? Is that why you rejected me?”

“I did not think it insincere, I knew it to be insincere. I heard you and the Lady Violet discussing me. I heard when you declared your intention to ask for my hand in marriage simply because she had asked you to.”

Oh.

He remembered then, the conversation he had with his mother right before he proposed.

“Propose to her,” Violet had urged just as breakfast had been served, with only Benedict and Violet dining.

“I am not even courting her, mama,” he replied exasperatedly. It had been far too early in the morning to entertain his mother’s insistence on seeing him wed to Y/N. She’d pestered him about it in one form or another even before the Y/L/Ns had come to visit the Bridgertons and Benedict knew she would not stop until he and Y/N were formally engaged.

But Y/N had just ended her mourning period for her father. And though societal mandates dictated that it was perfectly reasonable for Benedict to ask for her hand in marriage, he knew how deeply she mourned the man, especially since his death had placed her in such a precarious position. The late patriarch of the Y/L/N family had been fond of his only child, even if she had been born a girl. And Y/N had loved him, even if his death left her and her mother saddled with financial debt despite coming from the longest line of barony in England.

“What does it matter that you are not courting?” Violet demanded. “You have known her since you were both children. You’ve been courting her all your life.”

“Mama, please leave it well enough alone.”

“What is it that you do not like about her?” She insisted. “She is beautiful and accomplished and you have known each other your whole lives. Any young man would be fortunate to be bound to her in marriage.”

“I never said anything that would imply otherwise.”

“Then why do you refuse to ask her for her hand in marriage? Doing so would spare her a season in London and limit their financial troubles.” And then she had gasped in indignation. “Or is their financial troubles the very reason why you refuse? I never raised you to be avaricious!”

Bloody hell. “I am not avaricious, mother. I do not care about her dowry or lack thereof!”

“Then what is it? Do not tell me it is because you do not love her. I have seen the way you look at her.”

Benedict had eyed his fork, had wondered if perhaps, it would be a better to shove it in his ears than listen to his mother’s hullabaloo.

Instead he took a scone, spreading a generous layer of clotted cream and jam so his hands had something to do rather than maim himself.

“And how is it I look at her, mother?” He drawled.

“The same way your father used to look at me.”

At that he had paused, scone half-raised to his mouth. He hadn’t known what to say anymore. Mentions of his own father had always been capable of silencing his mind.

Finally, he had decided on telling her the truth, that his mother may finally stop pestering him.

“Asking Y/N for her hand in marriage had always been the plan, mother,” Benedict relented. “I was simply waiting for the perfect moment.”

Violet smiled at her son kindly. “There are no such thing as perfect moments, dearest. Only moments that can be made perfect. And whether you ask her later or tomorrow or next week, that moment will be perfect by virtue of you asking.”

She was right, of course. Violet Bridgerton was so rarely incorrect especially in matters of the heart and love.

Benedict had given her a smile, and said, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Well, since you so graciously asked me to, I shall propose to the Lady Y/N, if only to make you happy.”

That must have been what Y/N heard. Not the whole story but the end, when Benedict had teased his mother.

Now he was convinced that God existed and that he must be cruel. Only the machinations of a cruel God could have lined up the timing perfectly.

Y/N’s eyes flickered as she regarded him. “I do not wish to bind you in marriage with someone you do not hold any affection for. You have fulfilled your promise to your mother and have asked for my hand. I rejected you. We no longer have any obligations with one another. Good night.” She made a move to pass him, to walk back to the ballroom to her gaggle of men but Benedict’s hand shot up, gripping her arm and keeping her to him.

His hands were gloved and even Y/N’s arms were sheathed in silk. And though he had never felt gloves to be particularly offensive, he wished to burn the ones that covered their hands. If only so he could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers.

The heady scent of her perfume wafted through his senses. She smelled divine, like walking through a garden of roses under the cover of moonlight as the stars twinkled above his head. Utterly mouthwatering, and capable of driving even the sanest of men into insanity. The scent of distraction.

Always so distracting.

Benedict forced his mouth to speak before his brain could forget the words he needed to say. “Do you think so little of me? Capable of such cruelty especially when it comes to you.”

Y/N’s brows met, a flash of pain in her eyes and then it was gone. “It is the opposite, really. I think the world of you, Benedict. Only a gentleman would offer to marry a girl he has no obligations to simply because of her precarious position in life. You are an honorable man and any woman would be lucky to call you their husband. It is why I cannot accept your proposal, not when you do not love me. Not when there is no one on this world more deserving of love than you.”

Benedict frowned at her. “Why do you continue to insist that I do not love you?”

“Because you do not!” She pulled away from him, wrenching her hand from his grasp. Her eyes were pure anguish as she looked at him and the very sight of her pain had him staggering back. “If you truly held any affection for me, I would know. I have studied you all our lives, Benedict. And in all the time we shared together, you had never shown any affection for me beyond that of a friend. Your proposal hurt, Benedict. I have loved you in every way a man could be loved for so long and for you to ask for my hand in marriage out of pity—“ She choked, eyes widening as if she didn’t mean to say the things she’d said.

“You love me?” He echoed, heart beating quickly in his chest. He wondered, briefly, if his fast beating heart marks the day he really lived. If Y/N’s confession had been the reason he truly felt alive for the first time in his life.

Her face crumpled in pain as she stepped back. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said those things. Please take your leave, Benedict. That I may salvage whatever scraps of my dignity is left.”

But Benedict did no such thing.

Instead he took her hands and lowered himself into a kneel, setting his eyes upon her. The arching light of the manor spilled over the veranda casted her in a soft glow that took his very breath away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in alarm and whatever pain she held there was washed away by her surprise. “Benedict, what are you doing?”

“Begging you for forgiveness.”

“What? Benedict, get up.”

But he held firm, his determination cementing his knees to the ground. “Forgive me, Y/N, for my grave transgressions against you. That you had ever lived your life doubting my affections for you, or wondering if I cared for you as more than a friend are sins I will carry with me to my last breath. It will be my great shame that I had not made it abundantly clear that I love you. Because I do love you. Most ardently.”

“Benedict, get up. This is madness—“

“You are right. It is madness. The way I feel for you would drive the sanest of people into lunacy. But if loving you is madness then I don’t ever wish to be sane.”

Her eyes gleamed silver with unshed tears that threatened to fall from her pretty eyes. “B-But that morning, the day you proposed—“

“I did not propose to you out of pity for you, I did it out of pity for me. I needed to put myself out of my misery and finally marry the only girl I ever had the privilege of falling in love with rather than continue pining after you in secret.”

She let out a a laugh through her tears, the sound like bells chiming during a storm. Light and beautiful despite the pouring rain that threatened to drown it out. “Ask me again.”

His heart leapt to his throat, pounding so quickly he struggled to get the words out. But they came nonetheless, the words clear and betraying none of his anxiety. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

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pankowcrumbs · 3 months ago

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Chemistry X Luke Thompson

Plot: You are cast as Sophie Beckett but you fall in love with Luke in real life. Word count: Just under 12K 18+ does include smut at the end MasterList Bridgerton and Cast Masterlist

The room was unbearably warm, or maybe that was just my nerves. I sat in the waiting area, my foot tapping against the polished wooden floor as I tried to focus on the lines in my hands. I had rehearsed them a hundred times, but the words blurred together now, my brain buzzing with anxious energy.

This was it. My final audition.

When I first got the call for Bridgerton, I nearly dropped my phone in disbelief. They were casting Sophie Beckett the love interest of Benedict Bridgerton for the upcoming season and somehow, somehow, I had made it to the chemistry read. The moment that could make or break everything.

The nerves twisting in my stomach weren’t just about the role. It was who I’d be reading with.

Luke Thompson.

I had admired him as an actor for years, captivated by the way he brought Benedict to life on screen witty, passionate, and utterly mesmerising. And now, I was about to stand in front of him, reciting words that would determine if I was fit to play his love interest.

"Y/N?" A casting assistant poked her head out of the audition room, giving me a warm smile. "You're up."

I swallowed hard, rising to my feet and smoothing out the fabric of my dress. This was it. Show time.

Stepping inside, I was met with the sight of the showrunner, a few producers, and Luke himself, casually leaning against a chair in the middle of the room. He was flipping through a script, but as soon as I walked in, his head lifted, and his eyes met mine.

And just like that, the air shifted.

Something unspoken crackled between us, an almost magnetic pull I hadn’t expected. His blue eyes studied me for a beat longer than necessary before a slow smile tugged at his lips.

"Hi," he said, standing up and extending his hand. "Luke."

"I know," I replied before I could stop myself, my voice a touch breathless. I took his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against mine. "Y/N."

"Lovely to meet you, Y/N." His voice was softer now, almost as if he could sense my nerves.

"You too." I forced myself to take a deep breath as I let go of his hand, feeling the weight of the casting directors' gazes on us.

"Right," the showrunner said, glancing between us with interest. "Let's see how you two read together. Start from page seventy-three the scene in the library."

Luke nodded and stepped closer, script in hand. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

And then, just like that, we began.

The library scene was pivotal Sophie and Benedict, caught in a moment of rare privacy, tension thick between them. She was the mysterious woman he couldn’t get out of his head, and he was the man who saw right through her defences. It was a dance of longing, restraint, and undeniable attraction.

But as soon as I delivered my first line, something happened.

Luke wasn’t just acting as Benedict. He was Benedict. His eyes locked onto mine with such intensity that I nearly forgot my next words. His voice dipped into something lower, something more intimate, and I felt it in my chest, my skin prickling in response.

I matched his energy, letting the emotions flow naturally, and suddenly, we weren’t just reciting lines we were feeling them.

The moment he stepped closer, invading my space, I felt my breath hitch.

"You cannot keep looking at me that way," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"And how exactly do I look at you, Sophie?" Luke countered, tilting his head.

"Like you're searching for something in me that does not exist."

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips, and something in my stomach flipped.

"But what if I see something you do not?"

Silence hung between us, heavy, charged. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.

Luke’s gaze flickered to my lips for the briefest second before he stepped back, breaking the moment, just as Benedict would have.

And just like that, the scene ended.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding, my pulse racing.

For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence. Then, a chair creaked as one of the producers leaned forward.

"Well," the showrunner finally said, sounding almost amused. "That was... something."

Luke turned to them, his expression unreadable, but there was something alight in his eyes.

"She's Sophie," he said simply. "No question about it."

A surprised murmur rippled through the room.

I blinked, certain I had misheard. "What?"

Luke looked at me then, and his lips curved into the softest smile. "I know when something feels right," he said. "And that felt right."

I stared at him, speechless.

The producers exchanged glances, clearly intrigued by his confidence. The showrunner pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. "Luke, we still have more chemistry reads to go..."

"You don’t need them." His voice was calm but certain, unwavering. "I know chemistry when I feel it. And that?" He gestured between us. "That was real."

My mouth went dry. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this stunned.

Luke turned to me again, his expression softer now. "You felt it too, didn’t you?"

I hesitated, but only for a second. "Yeah," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I did."

A small, triumphant smile ghosted across his lips before he turned back to the casting team.

"Then there's your answer," he said simply.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the showrunner let out a small chuckle, shaking her head. "Well, that certainly makes our job easier."

And just like that, I knew.

I had the role.

I was going to be Sophie Beckett.

I wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, but I was too overwhelmed to move. My heart pounded wildly in my chest as I looked at Luke, who was already watching me with that knowing smile.

"Congratulations, Y/N," the showrunner finally said. "Looks like you’ve just secured yourself a role in Bridgerton."

I let out a shaky breath. "Thank you," I whispered, still trying to process it all.

Luke’s grin widened as he nudged me playfully. "I can't wait to work with you" he murmured.

for the first time since I stepped into that room, I allowed myself to smile.

Stepping into the rehearsal space for the first time in months, I felt a strange mix of nerves and excitement swirl in my stomach. The table reads for Bridgerton had officially begun, and with it came costume fittings, wig and make up trials, and endless rehearsals before filming kicked off.

The last time I had seen Luke was during our chemistry read the moment that had quite literally changed my life. His unwavering confidence in me had secured my role as Sophie Beckett, and now, here I was, walking into a room full of actors who already felt like a family.

And then, as if on cue, I spotted him.

Luke was already seated at the long table, script in hand, engaged in quiet conversation with Jonathan Bailey. His eyes flicked up just as I walked in, and immediately, his face broke into the warmest smile.

"There she is!" he announced, standing up as if greeting an old friend.

I couldn’t help but grin. "Been saving my seat, have you?"

"Naturally." He gestured to the chair beside him, his expression teasing. "Wouldn't want my favourite co-star getting lost, would we?"

I rolled my eyes but took the seat anyway, my heart doing an annoyingly giddy little flip.

Just as I set my bag down, Luke leaned in slightly. "I was going to ask," he said, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret, "what’s your go-to coffee order?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "Um… a vanilla oat latte, usually. Why?"

He just smiled, sitting back in his chair as if that was all the information he needed. "No reason."

I raised an eyebrow, but before I could question him further, the director called for everyone’s attention, and the first read-through began.

Over the next few days, we fell into an easy rhythm.

The morning after the first table read, I walked into the room, still bleary-eyed, only to be greeted by the scent of fresh coffee.

"Morning, Y/N."

I looked up to see Luke standing there, holding out a cup. "Vanilla oat latte, right?"

My mouth fell open slightly. "You remembered?"

He simply shrugged, that boyish grin firmly in place. "Seemed like important information."

I took the coffee, warmth spreading through my fingers and, if I was being honest, my chest. "Thanks, Luke. That’s really sweet."

"It’s nothing," he said easily, though the pleased look in his eyes suggested otherwise.

But it wasn’t nothing.

Because every morning after that, without fail, he showed up at just the right moment always with my coffee in hand, always with that infuriatingly charming smile.

One afternoon, after another long reading session, we were sent off to costume fittings.

I stood in front of a mirror, already partially laced into an intricate gown, watching as a seamstress adjusted the sleeves.

"How does that feel, my lady?" a playful voice sounded behind me.

I turned, my gaze landing on Luke as he leaned casually against the doorway. He was already in partial costume his waistcoat fitted perfectly, the crisp white of his shirt contrasting against the deep navy of his coat.

For a moment, I forgot how words worked.

"Um," I managed, blinking. "It feels… period-appropriate?"

Luke smirked, stepping into the room. "That’s what you’re going with?"

"Well, I can’t exactly say it feels like a comfy pair of pyjamas, can I?" I retorted, smoothing the skirts.

He chuckled. "Fair point."

"Where’s your cravat?" I teased, nodding toward his unbuttoned collar. "A true gentleman of the ton wouldn’t be caught dead like that."

Luke grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. "Don’t tell the costume department, but I’m rebelling against the cravat as long as possible."

"Scandalous," I gasped, playing along.

"You should report me to Lady Whistledown," he whispered.

I laughed, shaking my head. "You’re ridiculous."

He just smiled at me, and for a moment, we simply stood there, his eyes searching mine.

The seamstress coughed politely, breaking whatever spell had settled over us.

Luke stepped back, clearing his throat. "I should, uh, probably let you finish up," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

I nodded, suddenly feeling far too warm in the layers of fabric. "See you at the hair trials?"

"Wouldn’t miss it," he said with a wink before slipping out of the room.

The hair trials were an experience in themselves.

We were seated in a row, each of us trying on different styles, as the hair team fussed over every detail.

Luke, who was sat beside me, had been relatively quiet until they trialed a new hairstyle on him.

I barely had time to register the look of horror on his face before he turned to me, wide-eyed.

"Be honest," he said in a low voice. "Do I look like a man who’s just crawled out of the woods after years of solitude?"

I tried so hard to keep a straight face. I really did.

But the moment he lifted his brows in exaggerated distress, I completely lost it.

Laughter bubbled out of me, and soon, Luke was laughing too, shaking his head as he pulled the wig off.

"we can't do that," he declared to the hair team. "Y/N will never take me seriously."

I wiped at my eyes, still giggling. "I think you should embrace the wilderness aesthetic."

"Not a chance," he muttered, ruffling his hair.

The stylists chuckled as they discussed different options.

Luke turned back to me, a mischievous glint in his eye. "See? This is why I need you around."

I tilted my head. "To stop you from looking like a feral man in a romance series?"

He grinned. "Exactly."

By the end of the week, after countless readings, fittings, and more coffee deliveries than I could count, something had settled between us.

A familiarity. An ease.

Luke was effortlessly charming, endlessly kind, and always seemed to know exactly when I needed a pick-me-up whether it was coffee, a joke, or a simple smile.

On our final day of pre-production, as we walked out of the building together, he nudged me lightly.

"Excited for filming?" he asked.

I exhaled, letting the weight of it all sink in. "A little nervous, if I’m honest."

Luke looked at me, something warm and reassuring in his gaze. "You’ll be brilliant, Y/N. I have no doubt."

I smiled, feeling that familiar flip in my stomach. "Thanks, Luke."

"Anytime." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "And if you ever need anything on set or otherwise you know where to find me."

Something about the sincerity in his voice made my heart skip.

"Same goes for you," I murmured.

A small smile tugged at his lips, and for a moment, I thought he might say something else. But instead, he just reached into his bag and pulled out a takeaway cup.

"One last coffee before we start the madness?" he offered, holding it out.

I stared at him, touched beyond words.

"You’re unbelievable," I said, taking the cup with a shake of my head.

He simply grinned. "I try."

The first day of filming was a whirlwind.

I had been up before the sun, fuelled by a mix of excitement and nerves as I arrived at set. The energy was infectious crew members bustled about, adjusting cameras and lights, while costumers made last-minute tweaks to everyone’s outfits.

And then, of course, there was the cast.

I had met most of them at the table reads, but now, seeing them in full costume, it suddenly felt real.

"Y/N!" A voice called out as I stepped onto the main set, where the Bridgerton family’s grand house stood before me.

I turned to see Nicola Coughlan beaming at me, her Penelope curls pinned to perfection.

"You look amazing," she said, reaching out for a hug.

"So do you!" I grinned, hugging her back.

"You nervous?" she asked knowingly.

"A bit," I admitted.

"Oh, don’t worry, we’re all a mess on the first day," she reassured me. "Just wait till Newts forgets his lines for the first time it’s tradition at this point."

"Oi!" Luke Newton’s voice piped up as he joined us. "That was one time."

Nicola raised an eyebrow. "Was it?"

He sighed dramatically before turning to me. "Welcome to the madness, Y/N. Are you ready for the most chaotic, hilarious, and exhausting few months of your life?"

I laughed. "I think so?"

Before he could respond, Jonathan appeared out of nowhere, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

"Our new Sophie Beckett!" he declared grandly. "Welcome, darling. We’ve been waiting for you!"

I chuckled. "I feel very welcomed already."

"As you should!" He grinned, then turned to Luke T, who had just arrived, already in full Benedict mode. "And you, sir, have some very big shoes to fill."

Luke looked between us, confused. "Do I?"

Jonathan smirked, nudging him. "Oh, you know… romance, longing gazes, yearning… The Bridgerton way."

Luke rolled his eyes. "I think I’ll manage."

"Oh, we know you’ll manage," Luke Newton interjected, wiggling his eyebrows. "Especially with a certain co-star."

I glanced between them, confused, but Jonathan let out a knowing chuckle. "Ah, I see. Thompson’s already smitten."

Luke groaned. "Here we go."

I blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Nothing," Luke said quickly.

"Everything," Jonathan corrected, grinning.

Luke Newton clapped his hands together. "I say we keep an eye on these two. Something tells me there’ll be plenty of off-screen chemistry as well."

Luke shot them both a look. "Can we focus on the actual job, please?"

Nicola leaned closer to me, whispering, "They love to tease, don’t mind them."

I bit back a smile. "Noted."

Once filming officially began, the teasing didn’t stop but neither did the fun.

Our first scene was a grand ballroom sequence, filled with swirling dresses, twinkling chandeliers, and a sea of actors moving in perfect synchrony.

I stood off to the side, watching as the crew set up the shot.

"Not too overwhelming, I hope?" Luke appeared beside me, his voice gentle.

I smiled up at him. "It’s a lot, but in the best way."

He nodded. "I remember my first day. It was a blur of corsets, cravats, and trying not to trip over my own feet."

"Let me guess you tripped anyway?"

He sighed. "Spectacularly."

I laughed, nudging him lightly. "I’ll try to avoid making my grand debut that way."

"You’ll be brilliant, Y/N," he said, and the sincerity in his voice made my heart skip slightly.

"Thanks, Luke."

"Anytime."

Between takes, the entire cast fell into easy camaraderie.

Jonathan and Simone took turns making up ridiculous backstories for the extras in the background, while Nicola and Claudia had a full debate over whether their characters would secretly write Gossip Girl-style letters in the modern era.

Luke Newton, meanwhile, had somehow convinced the costume team to let him have a third helping of cake from the banquet scene, much to the director’s exasperation.

And Luke Thompson?

Well, he kept finding ways to be exactly where I was.

At lunch, when I was searching for an open seat, he wordlessly pulled out the chair next to him.

When I struggled with one of the intricate lace ties on my gown, he appeared behind me, effortlessly fixing it.

And, of course, he still showed up with my coffee every single time.

"You really don’t have to do this," I told him as he handed me yet another vanilla oat latte between takes.

He shrugged, grinning. "I know. But I like to."

I couldn’t fight the warmth spreading through me. "You’re ridiculously sweet, you know that?"

He tilted his head, eyes twinkling. "Don’t tell the others. I have a reputation to uphold."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Your secret’s safe with me."

By the time the sun began to set, marking the end of our first day, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

Yes, the day had been long. Yes, my feet ached from hours of wearing heels.

But I had never felt more welcomed. More at home.

As I gathered my things, Luke appeared beside me once again.

"Survived day one?" he asked.

"Just about," I grinned.

He studied me for a moment before saying, "You belong here, Y/N. You really do."

My heart squeezed. "That means a lot."

"It’s just the truth."

For a moment, we stood there, the chatter of the crew fading into the background.

Then, with an easy smile, Luke gestured toward the exit. "Come on. Let’s get out of these ridiculous costumes before we become permanently laced into them."

I laughed, falling into step beside him.

Filming had been going smoothly for the past few days, each scene feeling more natural as I settled into the world of Bridgerton. The cast had welcomed me with open arms, and between the long shooting hours and endless costume fittings, I had quickly grown comfortable around them.

So, when my phone buzzed with a message from Luke one morning, I was already smiling before I even read it.

Luke: Morning, trouble. We’re all heading down to Bath together for filming today. Fancy squeezing into the chaos wagon with me, Jonny, Nicola, and Claudia?

I huffed out a small laugh, shaking my head.

Me: Chaos wagon, huh? Sounds risky.

Luke: Oh, it absolutely is. But I’ll let you have the front seat.

Me: Tempting offer…

Luke: I’ll even bring you coffee.

I snorted. Of course, he knew my weakness.

Me: Fine. But if I regret it, I’m blaming you entirely.

Luke: Deal. See you soon, love.

I should have known the car ride would be anything but peaceful the moment I stepped outside and spotted Luke behind the wheel.

"Welcome to the chaos wagon," he greeted, smirking as he leaned across the seat to open the passenger door for me.

"God help me," I muttered playfully, sliding into the seat.

Jonathan, Nicola, and Claudia were already crammed into the back, mid-argument over something I couldn’t quite make out.

"Just admit it, Jonny!" Nicola was saying, her voice full of exasperation.

"I refuse," Jonathan declared dramatically.

"It’s a fact," Claudia interjected. "You do take the longest to get ready in the mornings!"

Jonathan gasped in mock offense. "That is slanderous, and I will not stand for it."

Luke chuckled as he pulled out of the car park, giving me a knowing glance. "Still sure you don’t regret this?"

I shook my head, laughing. "I’m getting the full Bridgerton experience, aren’t I?"

"That you are," he agreed.

The drive quickly descended into complete and utter chaos.

Nicola and Claudia put on an early 2000s playlist, belting out every song with dramatic flair. Jonathan, not to be outdone, started making up ridiculous backstories for the passing roads.

"That road leads to a secret society of butlers," he said seriously as we passed a quiet country lane.

Luke shook his head. "I am never letting you sit in the front."

"Jealousy doesn’t suit you, mate," Jonathan quipped.

I was laughing so much my stomach hurt. I had never been on a road trip quite like this before one filled with so much energy, so much ridiculousness, and so much joy.

And then, in the midst of all the noise, something happened that made my breath hitch.

Luke took one hand off the wheel and rested it gently on my thigh.

It was a simple gesture. Casual, even. But something about the warmth of his palm, the way his fingers squeezed lightly, sent a sudden jolt through me.

I turned my head, and for a moment, it was just the two of us in our own little bubble.

His eyes flicked toward me, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"You alright?" he murmured.

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah."

His thumb brushed over the fabric of my leggings, and my stomach did a ridiculous little flip.

And then

"OH MY GOD, DID YOU SEE THAT?!"

Jonathan’s voice shattered the moment.

"Luke Thompson, removing a hand from the wheel for romantic purposes?" Nicola gasped dramatically. "Someone alert the ton! Scandal!"

Luke groaned, his hand instantly retreating. "For God’s sake"

"IT’S HAPPENING!" Claudia declared.

"It’s not happening!" Luke shot back, though his face was definitely a little pink.

I, meanwhile, covered my face with my hands. "You guys are the worst."

Jonathan grinned. "Oh, come on, Y/N. Admit it Thompson’s got a soft spot for you."

I peeked at Luke, only to find him already looking at me. His eyes were unreadable, his lips twitching like he was deciding whether to fight back or lean into it.

Instead, he simply said, "Drive’s going to be a long one if you lot keep this up."

"Long and full of undeniable chemistry," Nicola corrected.

Luke sighed, shaking his head, but I didn’t miss the tiny smirk pulling at his lips.

I turned back toward the window, my cheeks still warm.

By the time we arrived in Bath, my stomach ached from laughing too much.

The car ride had been nothing short of chaotic Claudia and Nicola had somehow convinced Jonathan to create an official ranking of everyone’s most scandalous moments on set, and to no one’s surprise, he had decided that Luke’s hand on thigh moment was at the very top of the list.

"Mate, you have no idea the damage you’ve done," Luke grumbled as he parked the car in front of the hotel.

Jonathan smirked. "Oh, I do. I fully intend to capitalise on it."

I turned to Luke, trying to look serious. "You’ll never live this down, you know?"

He sighed dramatically. "I figured as much."

"Better get used to scandal, Benedict," I teased, stepping out of the car.

The hotel was stunning an elegant Georgian building with grand chandeliers and thick velvet curtains. It was the kind of place that made you want to walk around in a dressing gown, sipping tea like you were in a period drama even off-set.

I grabbed my room key from the front desk, only to glance over and see Luke holding an identical one.

"Room 214," I murmured, reading the number.

Luke lifted his own key. "215."

I huffed a laugh. "You again?"

He grinned. "Reckon the universe is trying to tell you something, love."

"Yeah," I mused. "That I should invest in noise-cancelling headphones."

His chuckle was soft, almost fond, as we headed upstairs.

After dropping my bags off, I flopped onto the bed for all of two minutes before my phone buzzed.

Jonny: "BREAKING NEWS. LUKE ‘THIGH TOUCHER’ THOMPSON AND Y/N ‘VICTIM’ L/N HAVE ADJACENT ROOMS. THE SCANDAL CONTINUES. MORE AT 10."

I groaned. He was never going to let this go.

Filming in Bath was special. The historic architecture, the cobbled streets, the way the city seemed frozen in time it made stepping into the Bridgerton world feel even more real.

And, of course, the cast made everything ten times more ridiculous.

"Right, everyone, places!" the director called, clapping his hands together.

We were filming an outdoor scene today, and the second I arrived on set, Jonathan was already stirring up trouble.

"A scandal must be addressed!" he announced dramatically, gathering the cast and crew like he was making an important political speech.

"Here we go," Luke muttered beside me.

"Last night, I was made aware of alarming news," Jonathan continued. "It has come to my attention that our very own Luke Thompson has been engaging in highly improper behaviour."

Luke sighed. "It was a knee-jerk reaction"

"It was a thigh-jerk reaction, actually," Claudia corrected, grinning.

The entire cast erupted into laughter.

I shook my head, trying (and failing) to suppress a smirk. "I’m never getting in a car with any of you again."

Nicola nudged me. "Oh, please. You love it."

"Debatable."

Jonathan, who clearly had no intention of moving on from this, turned to the director. "Sir, I do believe we should be adjusting today’s script to reflect this newfound scandal."

The director, who had likely seen far too much of our antics by now, simply pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just get into position, please."

Luke shot me a look half exasperated, half amused. "See what you’ve done?"

"I didn’t do anything!"

He arched a brow. "You existed in the front seat, Y/N. That was enough."

I rolled my eyes. "Should I be flattered?"

He leaned in slightly, voice low. "Only if you want to be."

And just like that, my stomach did that stupid, ridiculous, fluttery thing again.

Filming was a mixture of long takes, quick costume changes, and a lot of standing around waiting for the next setup. It was during those in-between moments that I really started to notice something.

Luke was always there.

Not in a weird way, but in the Luke way.

Like how, right after my first big emotional scene, he appeared at my side with a bottle of water and a small nod.

Or how, when I shivered in the cold between takes, he wordlessly draped his coat over my shoulders.

And, of course, how he still turned up with my favourite coffee at exactly the right moments, like some kind of caffeine-delivering wizard.

"You’re very good at this," I murmured as he handed me the cup.

"At what?"

"Knowing exactly when I need caffeine."

He smirked. "It’s a talent."

I took a sip, the warmth spreading through me. "You should put it on your CV."

"‘Professional coffee provider’?"

I nodded solemnly. "Future generations will thank you."

His laugh was soft, but his eyes lingered on mine a beat too long.

By the time we wrapped for the day, I was exhausted. Filming had run late, and all I wanted to do was collapse into bed.

As I was unlocking my hotel room, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Long day, huh?"

I turned to see Luke, leaning against his own door, looking just as tired as I felt.

"Yeah," I exhaled. "Fun, though."

He nodded. "You were brilliant today, by the way."

I blinked. "Oh. Um thank you."

"You’re really bringing Sophie to life," he added, his voice softer now. "It’s incredible to watch."

I felt my face warm. "That means a lot, coming from you."

His lips quirked up at the corner. "Should I be flattered?"

I rolled my eyes. "Only if you want to be."

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "Touché."

For a moment, we just stood there in the quiet hallway, neither of us moving to go inside.

Something about the stillness of it all the soft glow of the hallway lights, the way he was looking at me like I was something worth noticing made my chest feel oddly tight.

I cleared my throat. "Well, um… goodnight, Luke."

He hesitated, then gave me a small smile. "Goodnight, Y/N."

As I closed my door behind me, I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding.

After a long day on set, there was nothing better than food.

Good food. Good company. And, if Jonathan had anything to do with it, absolute chaos.

So, when Nicola suggested going out for dinner, it took approximately three seconds for the entire group to agree. Within half an hour, we were packed into a restaurant in the heart of Bath, tucked into a booth that definitely wasn’t designed for this many people but somehow accommodated our rowdiness anyway.

The drinks flowed, the food arrived, and the volume at the table was immediately ridiculous.

"I would just like to formally announce that I am still traumatised from today," Luke declared dramatically, waving a fork in Jonathan’s direction.

Jonathan, who had spent the entire day again loudly broadcasting Luke’s scandal to anyone who would listen, merely smirked. "I was performing a public service."

"Public service my ass," Luke grumbled.

I snorted. "To be fair, you did bring it on yourself."

Nicola raised an eyebrow. "Exactly. Don’t rest your hand on a lady’s thigh if you don’t want to be called out, darling."

Luke groaned. "I hate it here."

"Cheers to that," Jonathan said, raising his glass.

Everyone clinked their drinks together, laughter bubbling around the table.

At some point between bites of pasta and stealing a piece of garlic bread from Luke’s plate (he absolutely noticed but didn’t say anything), I felt it again those small, unspoken moments between us.

A glance held a second too long. The brush of his knee against mine under the table. His fingers grazing my wrist as he reached for the salt.

Tiny, insignificant touches. But none of them felt insignificant.

Jonathan, ever the observer, caught more than a few of them.

"Interesting," he murmured into his drink at one point, eyeing us.

Luke shot him a look. "What?"

Jonathan sipped his wine, smiling innocently. "Oh, nothing."

I narrowed my eyes. "That wasn’t nothing."

He shrugged. "Just taking in the dynamics at play."

Luke sighed. "Jonathan."

Jonathan beamed. "Luke."

I looked between them. "Should I be concerned?"

"No," Jonathan said cheerfully. "But he should be."

Luke groaned. "I repeat I hate it here."

Later in the evening, after most of the table had moved on to dessert (and Claudia was passionately debating with Nicola over whether cheesecake counted as cake), Jonathan and Luke found themselves alone at the bar.

Jonathan leaned back against the counter, nursing his drink, eyes sharp as they flickered to where I was laughing with Claudia.

"So," he said casually, turning back to Luke.

Luke raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Jonathan smirked. "You like her."

Luke exhaled through his nose. "Observant, aren’t you?"

"It’s a gift," Jonathan said with mock modesty. "But seriously, mate. The chemistry between you two? It’s insane."

Luke glanced toward the table, his gaze softening as he caught sight of me mid-laugh, eyes bright, hand gesturing animatedly as I spoke.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I know."

Jonathan studied him for a moment. "When did you know?"

Luke didn’t hesitate.

"The second she walked into the chemistry read."

Jonathan tilted his head, surprised. "Really?"

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. "It sounds stupid, I know. But" He exhaled. "I just… knew. She was different."

Jonathan grinned. "You’re in so much trouble."

Luke huffed a laugh. "Yeah," he admitted, taking a sip of his drink. "I know."

Filming schedules rarely made sense.

One day, we’d be shooting an intense argument. The next, a scene that took place before the argument. And today?

Today, we were filming the wedding.

Luke wasn’t nervous.

Okay, that was a lie.

He wasn’t usually nervous, at least not when it came to filming. But as he stood on set, dressed in full Regency wedding attire, his hands clasped in front of him, he felt an unfamiliar kind of anticipation bubbling in his chest.

Then, I walked in.

I wasn’t even near him I was talking to the director across the room, adjusting my gloves as the costume team flitted around me. But it didn’t matter.

The second Luke saw me in the wedding dress, he forgot how to breathe.

"You’re kidding me," Jonathan muttered beside him.

Luke barely heard him.

"You’re actually Oh my God you’re actually gone for her."

Luke blinked, forcing himself to look away. "Shut up, Jonny."

Jonathan grinned. "Mate, I wish I could, but I physically can’t. I mean, did you see your face just now? It was like you’d been hit by a horse and carriage."

Luke exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but his heart was still racing.

How was he meant to act normal when I looked like that?

The set was breathtaking candles flickered softly, white flowers adorned every surface, and the grand church felt almost reverent in its beauty.

I stood at the end of the aisle, my hands clasped around a bouquet, heart hammering in my chest.

Luke was already waiting at the altar, his back straight, eyes fixed on me.

And for a moment, it wasn’t acting.

It wasn’t a character walking toward another character. It was just me and him.

The director called action.

I took slow steps forward, my heart pounding louder with each one.

Luke swallowed hard.

When I reached him, our hands met. His fingers curled around mine warm, steady, but slightly trembling.

The vicar’s words blurred in my ears. I was too aware of him. The intensity of his gaze. The way his chest rose and fell. The slight twitch of his fingers against mine.

And then

"You may now kiss the bride."

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then, Luke’s hand slid up to my jaw, his thumb grazing my cheek. His touch was featherlight, hesitant, as if savouring the moment.

And then he kissed me.

It should’ve just been a scene. Just another part of the job.

But the second our lips met, the world tilted.

Sparks.

Actual, electric sparks shot down my spine, my skin igniting at the press of his mouth against mine.

His fingers tightened on my waist.

My hands curled into the fabric of his coat.

For a moment, we forgot.

Forgot about the cameras. Forgot about the people watching. Forgot about everything except the way we fit together so perfectly in that instant.

Then, the director called cut.

We pulled away.

Silence.

Luke’s eyes flickered over my face, his breath uneven.

I couldn’t speak.

Neither could he.

Because whatever had just happened between us whatever had shifted we both felt it.

But we didn’t address it.

We couldn’t.

So, we simply stepped back.

And the moment passed and we all reset and we continued to film different angles.

Luke barely made it off set before Jonathan grabbed him by the arm.

"Right," Jonathan said, pulling him into a quiet corner. "Tell me you felt that."

Luke ran a hand through his hair. "Jonny—"

"Luke."

Luke sighed, his mind still spinning.

He couldn’t lie. Not to Jonathan.

So, he exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah," he admitted, voice quiet. "I felt it."

Jonathan grinned. "Knew it."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Don’t."

Jonathan held up his hands. "I’m just saying damn. That was not just acting."

Luke didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Because Jonathan was right.

Meanwhile, in the costume trailer, a similar conversation was happening.

I sat in a chair as Nicola and Claudia flanked me, both staring expectantly.

"So," Claudia said, drawing out the word. "That was some kiss."

I groaned, covering my face. "Don’t."

Nicola grinned. "Oh, we absolutely will."

Claudia leaned forward. "You felt that, didn’t you?"

I hesitated.

Then, quietly, I admitted, "Yeah. I did."

Nicola and Claudia shared a look.

"Oh, this is gonna be fun," Nicola murmured.

I sighed.

It had been a few days since the wedding scene.

A few days since that kiss.

Neither Luke nor I had spoken about it.

We’d carried on as normal laughing, bantering, running lines together. But something had changed. There was a shift. A tension.

And our castmates? They definitely noticed.

Jonathan, Nicola, and Claudia were on a mission.

I should’ve known something was up when I walked into the green room and they were huddled together, whispering furiously.

The second I stepped in, they fell silent.

"Good morning?" I said, eyeing them suspiciously.

Nicola grinned. "Morning."

Jonathan cleared his throat. "You look nice today."

I frowned. "Thanks?"

"Anything new happening in your life?" Claudia asked, her tone far too casual.

I raised an eyebrow. "No?"

Nicola sighed dramatically. "How tragic."

Jonathan shot her a look before turning back to me. "Anyway, you busy later?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"

Jonathan draped an arm over my shoulder. "Because, dear Y/N, we thought it’d be fun if you and Luke rehearsed your next scene alone. In private. Without distractions."

Nicola and Claudia nodded way too enthusiastically.

I crossed my arms. "What are you three up to?"

"Absolutely nothing," Nicola said, feigning innocence.

Claudia beamed. "We just think you and Luke should spend some quality time together."

I groaned. "Oh my God."

Jonathan patted my shoulder. "That’s a yes, then!"

Before I could argue, they were already rushing off to find Luke.

I was so doomed.

Their first attempt came during lunch.

Luke and I were the last ones in the costume department, getting some final adjustments done. When we went to leave

The door wouldn’t open.

Luke frowned, trying the handle again. "It’s locked."

I blinked. "That’s…weird."

From the other side of the door, I heard hushed whispers.

"Did it work?" That was Nicola.

"Shh! They’ll hear us!" Claudia hissed.

Luke and I exchanged a look.

Jonathan’s voice came next. "Okay, okay, we give it five minutes, then we let them out."

I groaned, knocking on the door. "Jonathan!"

"Who, me?" he said, all faux innocence. "I have no idea how this happened."

Luke ran a hand through his hair, trying very hard not to laugh. "Right. So, we’re locked in."

I sighed. "Apparently."

"Well," he said, leaning against the wall. "Might as well make the most of it."

The next attempt happened during scene rehearsals.

The script called for Luke and I to run a particularly intimate scene together. The plan was to practice in pairs before running it with the director.

Somehow, Jonathan, Nicola, and Claudia convinced everyone to swap partners leaving me and Luke alone.

I stared at Jonathan. "Seriously?"

He grinned. "What a coincidence."

Luke smirked. "They’re not subtle, are they?"

"Not even a little," I muttered.

Still, we went through the scene.

But the moment Luke’s hand brushed my waist, a shiver ran down my spine.

His fingers lingered just for a second.

And I knew he felt it too.

Jonathan, watching from the sidelines, wiggled his eyebrows.

I shot him a glare.

By the time we wrapped for the day, I was exhausted.

I was about to head back to the hotel when Jonathan suddenly appeared.

"Oh no," he said dramatically. "We’re out of cars!"

I frowned. "What?"

Nicola nodded solemnly. "So tragic. Guess you’ll just have to share with Luke."

I opened my mouth. Shut it.

Then turned to Luke, who of course had one available seat in his car.

Luke chuckled. "Come on, then."

With no choice, I slid into the passenger seat.

As we drove off, I caught sight of Jonathan, Nicola, and Claudia high-fiving.

I buried my face in my hands. "I hate them."

Luke laughed. "They really want us together, don’t they?"

I sighed. "Apparently."

He glanced at me, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Can’t say I mind too much."

I turned to him, heart stuttering.

His eyes flickered to my lips.

Then, before I could respond

Jonathan’s text came through the group chat.

JONATHAN: Are you two kissing yet? 👀

I groaned reading it out loud to Luke.

Luke howled with laughter.

The steady rhythm of raindrops tapped against the windshield, soft and rhythmic, casting a hazy glow across the car's interior.

Luke had parked outside the hotel, but neither of us made a move to get out.

We just sat there.

The engine hummed softly, the only other sound between us aside from the rain. Streetlights flickered outside, casting golden streaks across the wet pavement.

I stole a glance at him.

He was gripping the steering wheel loosely, fingers tapping against it, as if working up the nerve to say something. His jaw tensed. Then relaxed.

I swallowed, my heart hammering.

The air between us was different tonight. He felt it. I felt it.

Luke exhaled, finally turning toward me. “So…”

I turned to meet his gaze, my lips parting slightly. "So," I echoed.

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as if laughing at himself. Then his voice turned quieter, more careful.

"I haven’t stopped thinking about it."

My breath caught. "The… kiss?"

His lips quirked, but there was nothing teasing about it. Just honesty. "Yeah."

A warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading through me like wildfire.

I took a shaky breath. "Me neither."

Luke's expression softened, and for the first time, I saw something unguarded in his gaze. Something real.

"I..." He hesitated, running a hand through his curls before finally meeting my eyes again. "I knew it was gonna be good, but I wasn’t expecting that."

I let out a breathless laugh, nerves buzzing beneath my skin. "Me neither."

His fingers flexed against his thigh, as if resisting the urge to reach for me.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

I swallowed. “Yeah?”

His gaze dropped to my lips.

And then, achingly slow, he leaned in.

He was so close I could feel the warmth of his breath, the faintest scent of coffee lingering between us.

My heart stuttered, everything else in the world blurring into nothing.

His hand lifted hesitant at first before brushing against my cheek, his fingertips featherlight. I instinctively leaned into his touch, my lashes fluttering closed.

Then, finally...finally his lips met mine.

Soft. Warm.

His lips moved against mine in a way that sent sparks racing through me, a kiss so slow and careful, like he was savoring every second of it.

And I was too.

I tilted my head, deepening the kiss just slightly, my fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater. He exhaled against me, his hand slipping to the side of my neck, his thumb tracing gentle circles against my skin.

It wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t desperate.

It was everything.

When we finally pulled back, just a breath apart, neither of us moved away.

His forehead rested against mine, and for a moment, all we did was breathe.

His eyes fluttered open, and when he spoke, his voice was barely there.

“…Wow.”

I laughed softly, my lips tingling. “Yeah. Wow.”

His thumb brushed over my cheek. "I should probably say something witty right now."

I smiled. "You really don’t have to."

His eyes searched mine, filled with something that made my stomach flip. "Good," he whispered. "Because I just want to stay right here."

And so we did.

Just us.

Just this.

For as long as we could.

The world outside the car had faded away. It was just me and Luke, our voices low, soft laughter lingering between us as we basked in whatever this was this shift, this new, delicate thing blooming between us.

His fingers traced light patterns on my knee, our foreheads nearly touching as we whispered to one another, smiling like idiots.

And then

BANG BANG BANG!

I screamed, jerking away from Luke as a chorus of cackling erupted outside.

Luke jumped, smacking his head against the headrest as his hands shot up defensively like he'd been caught committing a crime.

Outside the car, Nicola, Claudia, and Jonathan stood by their own parked vehicle, smug as hell.

"Oi, lovebirds! You finally confess your undying love, or are we still dragging this out?" Jonathan yelled, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Nicola clutched her stomach, laughing. "Oh, their faces! Look at them!"

Claudia pounded on the window again for good measure, making me jump. "Don’t be shy, open up!"

Luke groaned, dragging a hand down his face as I covered mine entirely. “I hate them,” he muttered, voice drenched in amusement.

I bit my lip, barely suppressing my laughter as I reached for the door handle. “If we don’t get out, they will break in.”

Luke sighed dramatically before shoving his door open. "Right, you absolute menaces"

I stepped out too, the cool night air biting against my skin, and was instantly met with the three of them grinning like feral goblins.

Jonathan folded his arms. “So? Did we miss anything?”

I opened my mouth then immediately closed it, warmth rising in my cheeks.

Luke cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “Um.”

Nicola’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "Ohhh, this is juicy."

Claudia gasped, smacking Jonathan’s arm. “Wait. WAIT. Did something happen?”

Jonathan narrowed his eyes. "You did tell each other, didn't you?"

Luke and I exchanged a glance before looking anywhere but at them.

"OH MY GOD, YOU DIDN’T!" Nicola shouted, horrified.

Jonathan groaned, throwing his hands up. "How are we still in this slow burn? We need progress, people!"

Luke rolled his eyes, nudging me forward. “Come on, let’s just go to our rooms before they....”

“Oh, no no no, we are not done here!” Jonathan called after us.

Ignoring them, Luke and I started toward the hotel, the car park lights glowing around us. My heart still raced from before, but I didn’t feel nervous anymore.

Because, just as we passed under the lights, Luke reached for my hand.

Without hesitation, he laced our fingers together.

I stole a glance up at him, but he was already looking at me, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips.

I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

And just like that, we were us.

When we reached our rooms right next to each other Luke stopped outside my door.

He turned to me, still holding my hand, then gently pressed a kiss to my forehead.

It was soft. Warm.

Then he pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping securely around me.

I melted into him, my hands gripping his jumper as I closed my eyes, breathing him in.

We stayed like that for a few seconds until our peaceful moment was shattered by the loudest, most chaotic screaming behind us.

"OH MY GOD, GET IN THERE, Y/N!"

"WOOOO, LUCAS!"

"SEX MAGNET STRIKES AGAIN!"

"LOCK THE DOOR, YOU COWARD!"

Luke groaned into my hair, and I buried my face in his chest, dying of laughter.

We turned slowly to see Jonathan, Nicola, and Claudia standing a few feet away, losing their minds.

Jonathan had his hands cupped around his mouth like a sports commentator.

Nicola was doubling over with laughter.

And Claudia? She was full-on crying from how hard she was laughing.

Luke let out a dramatic sigh, dropping his head onto my shoulder. “We are never going to hear the end of this, are we?”

I grinned, squeezing his hand once more before finally pulling away, the warmth of his touch lingering on my skin.

"Nope," I said, smiling up at him. "Never."

And honestly?

I didn’t mind one bit.

Lying in bed, I was still smiling.

The warmth of Luke’s hug lingered, the feel of his lips pressing against my forehead replaying in my mind like a favorite scene from a movie.

My phone vibrated beside me.

Luke: They’re never going to let us live this down, are they?

I giggled, biting my lip as I typed back.

Me: Not a chance. I think Jonathan’s planning a full-on wedding at this point.

His reply came almost immediately.

Luke: I wouldn’t put it past him. Should I be worried about getting fitted for a tux?

Me: You’re assuming I’d say yes.

Luke: Please. You’re obsessed with me.

I rolled my eyes, my cheeks warm as I typed.

Me: Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, Bridgerton.

There was a pause. Then

Luke: Can I come in?

My heart skipped.

Me: For what?

Luke: A proper goodnight kiss.

I stared at my screen, pulse quickening.

My fingers hovered for a second before I finally typed back.

Me: Door’s open.

Not even ten seconds later, there was a quiet click as my door opened, and Luke slipped inside, his hair slightly tousled, wearing a hoodie and sweats.

"Hi," I murmured, watching him step closer.

"Hi," he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips.

He moved slowly, almost hesitating, before he finally sat on the edge of my bed.

And then, with a warm, gentle hand, he cupped my cheek and leaned in.

The kiss was soft, slow, and sweeter than I could have imagined.

His lips pressed to mine with the kind of tenderness that made my heart ache in the best way.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

"That was better," he murmured, his thumb stroking my cheek lightly.

I let out a breathy laugh, my heart still racing. "Better than what?"

Luke pulled back just enough to look at me, a teasing glint in his eye. "Better than the first one."

I rolled my eyes. "That was for work."

"Was it?" His voice was softer now, and the way he was looking at me like he was seeing something he never wanted to look away from made my stomach flip.

I swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he still was. "No," I admitted quietly. "It wasn’t."

His lips quirked up in a small, knowing smile, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he shifted on the bed, lying back against my pillows like he belonged there.

I raised an eyebrow. "You making yourself comfortable?"

He grinned. "You did say the door was open. Thought that was an invitation."

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head before shifting to lie beside him. He lifted his arm, letting me tuck myself against him, his body warm and solid beneath the hoodie.

For a while, we just lay there, the sound of the rain still pattering gently against the window.

"You know," Luke murmured after a while, his voice quieter now, "I really did feel it. That first kiss."

I tilted my head up to look at him. "Me too."

His arm tightened around me slightly, like he was pulling me closer without even realising it.

"Good," he whispered. "Because I really, really like you, Y/N."

My breath hitched.

There was nothing teasing in his voice now. No playful smirks or sarcastic remarks just honesty.

I swallowed hard, my fingers gripping his hoodie slightly. "I really, really like you too, Luke."

His lips parted slightly, his blue eyes searching mine like he was committing this moment to memory.

Then, instead of kissing me again like I half-expected, he just smiled, his eyes soft and filled with something that made my chest ache.

"Come here," he murmured, pulling me even closer until my head rested against his chest.

I let my eyes flutter shut, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Stay?" I asked softly, already half-asleep.

His lips brushed the top of my head. "I'm not going anywhere."

A loud knock at the door jolted me awake.

"Y/N! Are you ready?" Claudia's voice rang through the door, far too energetic for this time of the morning.

I blinked, my brain struggling to catch up. Why did my pillow feel so… warm? And why was there an arm draped over me?

Oh.

Oh no.

I turned my head slowly, only to find Luke still fast asleep beside me, his curls messy from sleep, his lips slightly parted.

Panic surged through me.

"Luke!" I hissed, shoving at his chest.

He groaned, stirring slightly. "Hmm?"

"Wake up!" I whispered urgently. "We overslept!"

Another knock.

"Y/N?" Claudia called again. "We need to leave soon!"

Luke's eyes flew open. I could practically see the realisation hit him all at once.

"Shit," he muttered, sitting up quickly, rubbing a hand over his face. "We didn't set an alarm."

"No, we didn’t!" I whispered, frantically untangling myself from the duvet. "You need to go. Now."

He nodded, already getting up. He was still in his hoodie and joggers from last night, which made it easy enough for him to slip out unnoticed. At least, that was the plan.

Luke crept toward the door, shooting me a quick look over his shoulder before carefully pulling it open.

Unfortunately, Claudia was still standing right there.

Her eyes widened in slow motion as Luke stepped out.

Mouth agape, she turned her head as he casually strolled next door and slipped into his own room like nothing happened.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, Claudia burst through my door.

"OH. MY. GOD."

"Shhh!" I waved my hands frantically, trying to shut her up before she woke up the whole hotel.

Claudia ignored me completely, flopping onto my bed dramatically. "You and Luke! LUKE!"

"It’s not what you think," I groaned, rubbing my temples.

Claudia gasped. "Did you?"

"No!" I cut her off before she could even finish the question. "We didn’t do anything!"

She squinted at me, not looking convinced. "So you’re telling me Luke just happened to leave your room, looking very comfortable, and it was all innocent?"

"Yes!" I sighed, sitting down next to her. "We were talking last night, and then he asked if he could come in for a proper goodnight kiss"

Claudia let out a high-pitched squeal, grabbing a pillow and smacking me with it.

"Stop!" I whined, laughing despite myself. "Let me finish!"

She huffed, crossing her arms but still bouncing excitedly. "Continue."

I rolled my eyes. "So he came in, we kissed, and then we just… laid here talking. It was really nice. But we must have fallen asleep, because next thing I know, you're banging on my door."

Claudia groaned dramatically, falling back onto the bed. "This is so much better than I imagined."

I snorted. "What did you imagine?"

"Something much less soft and romantic," she admitted with a grin. "So, what now?"

I hesitated. "I… I don't know."

Claudia sat up again, her expression softening slightly. "Do you want to know?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah. I really do."

Her grin returned. "Then you will. Because if I know Luke and I do there is no way that man is going to just let this be a one-time thing."

I bit my lip, feeling warmth creep up my neck.

"You're blushing," she teased.

"Shut up," I muttered, unable to stop the smile forming on my lips.

Claudia threw an arm around my shoulders, giving me a playful shake. "Oh, I love this. I love this for you. I love this for me. And you know Nicola and Jonathan are going to lose their minds when they find out."

I groaned. "Oh god. They're going to be so annoying, aren't they?"

Claudia grinned. "Absolutely."

By the time we arrived on set, it was game over.

Claudia had immediately told Nicola and Jonathan everything, and, as expected, they were being insufferable.

The moment Luke and I stepped onto set, Jonathan let out a long, exaggerated gasp.

"Would you look at that," he announced loudly, nudging Nicola beside him. "The lovebirds have arrived."

I shot him a glare. "Jonathan."

"What?" He smirked innocently. "I’m just observing."

Nicola, standing beside him, was beaming. "Oh, this is my favourite day."

Luke, to his credit, handled it well at least at first. He just chuckled, shaking his head, keeping his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

But then Claudia decided to add fuel to the fire.

"You should’ve seen her this morning," she said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Absolutely radiating."

"Was I?" I deadpanned.

"Oh, absolutely."

"Mate," Jonathan said, looking at Luke now. "You stayed the night."

Luke sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "It wasn’t like that."

Jonathan cackled. "That is exactly what people say when it was like that."

Nicola gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. "Oh my god, do we have an on-set romance brewing?!"

Luke and I exchanged a look, both flustered beyond belief.

"Nothing happened," I reiterated, already knowing it was pointless.

Jonathan hummed in thought. "Mmm, see, I want to believe you, but considering I watched you two practically devour each other with your eyes at dinner the other night, I’m inclined to think otherwise."

I groaned, covering my face.

This was going to be a long day.

The teasing never stopped.

Every time Luke and I so much as stood near each other, one of them had something to say.

During rehearsals, we were running lines when Claudia suddenly interrupted.

"Sorry, I just" She turned to the director. "Can we make sure Luke and Y/N are focused? Or are they too busy making heart eyes at each other?"

I gaped at her. "Claudia!"

Luke just laughed, shaking his head, but his ears were definitely pink.

Then, during hair and makeup, Nicola waltzed in, a mischievous look in her eyes.

"So," she said, plopping onto the chair beside me, "do we think Luke is a good cuddler?"

I choked on my coffee.

The makeup artist had to pause to make sure I wasn’t about to spill everything all over myself.

"Nicola," I warned.

Nicola grinned. "I mean, you would know."

I gave her my best unimpressed stare. "I hate you."

"You love me," she corrected.

And then Jonathan joined in.

"You know," he mused, "I did hear Luke humming to himself this morning. Suspiciously happy, if you ask me."

Nicola gasped. "He was humming?"

Jonathan nodded solemnly. "Like a man who has known true happiness."

"STOP," I whined, covering my face again.

Luke, sitting in the chair on the other side of the room, just shook his head with a soft chuckle.

They were never going to let this go.

At lunch, I was sitting with Luke when Jonathan suddenly slid into the seat beside me.

"So," he said, stirring his drink nonchalantly, "how does it feel to be Luke Thompson's chosen one?"

Luke choked on his water.

I sighed. "Jonathan, I swear to..."

"And you" He pointed at Luke. "I can’t believe you haven’t kissed her today. What kind of weak game is this?"

Luke exhaled a laugh. "Mate."

"Mate me all you want," Jonathan continued, grinning. "But you’re slacking."

Nicola, sitting across from us, nodded solemnly. "He does have a point."

Luke gave me a look, his lips twitching into a smirk. "Should I?"

I rolled my eyes. "Don’t give them anything."

Jonathan gasped. "A denial? Oh, this is even better."

I groaned, dropping my head onto the table. "I hate all of you."

Luke just chuckled, nudging my knee under the table.

It had been a few days since the endless teasing, and while Jonathan, Nicola, and Claudia were still making plenty of comments whenever they got the chance, things had slightly calmed down.

Until today.

Because today, Luke and I were scheduled to rehearse one of the most intimate scenes in the show.

And we were absolutely doomed.

The large rehearsal room had been set up with a few props and a couch in the centre. The intimacy coordinator, Sophia, was standing with the director and writer, walking us through the scene.

Luke and I sat beside each other, scripts in hand, nodding along as Sophia explained the choreography.

“This is a deeply emotional moment for both of your characters,” she said, glancing between us. “It’s raw, vulnerable, and full of yearning.”

Luke exhaled softly beside me. I snuck a glance at him and saw his jaw tense slightly, his fingers tightening around the edge of his script.

Yeah. We were definitely in trouble.

“Now,” Sophia continued, “we’re going to start by breaking it down into beats.”

She turned to Luke.

“Your character will enter, see her standing there, and there’s this moment of hesitation before you cross the room. You’re drawn to her like you have to touch her. And then, when you finally do, it’s…” She made a small, sweeping motion. “It’s electric. You both know what’s about to happen.”

I swallowed hard.

It already felt hot in here.

Luke nodded, his fingers tapping against his knee, like he was focusing intensely. “Right.”

Sophia turned to me. “And you your character is just as affected. When he touches you, it’s like the air has been sucked from the room. You can barely breathe.”

I exhaled shakily.

Luke noticed.

His lips twitched in amusement, his voice teasing as he murmured, “You alright?”

I shot him a look. “Shut up.”

He grinned.

The director, completely unaware of our little exchange, clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s try the first beat.”

Luke stepped back, shaking out his shoulders, then turned toward me.

As soon as our eyes met, the shift was instant.

His whole posture changed his gaze darkened slightly, his lips parted, his hands flexed at his sides like he was aching to touch me.

And damn, he was good.

I stood there, my breathing shallow, waiting.

Then he moved.

Crossing the space between us, slowly, like he was being pulled toward me.

By the time he reached me, my heart was pounding.

His hand lifted, fingers hovering just over my arm.

“Do you want me to touch you here?” he asked, his voice low, as per the intimacy guidelines.

I barely managed to nod. “Yeah.”

His fingers brushed my bare skin, and I nearly shivered.

Holy hell.

Sophia clapped her hands. “Great! Let’s pause here.”

I exhaled sharply, stepping back, trying to collect myself.

Luke looked just as flustered, rubbing the back of his neck with a very subtle smirk.

Sophia grinned. “How’s that feel?”

Luke let out a breathless chuckle. “I mean… yeah. Feels good.”

I rolled my eyes. “Such insightful feedback, Luke.”

His smirk widened. “Happy to help.”

Then came the actual kissing part.

Which was an entirely new level of torture.

Sophia walked us through the angles, where to place our hands, how to make it look natural while keeping it choreographed.

But none of that prepared me for the moment Luke’s lips actually touched mine.

It was soft, slow, testing like he was discovering something dangerous and thrilling at the same time.

His fingers brushed my jaw, guiding me into it, and god, it was unfair how good he was at this.

Heat pooled in my stomach, and I could feel his breath against my skin when he moved his lips from mine down seductively down my throat, his breath hot as his lips barely touched my skin, making me swallow hard. He kept going, leading down across my chest to my cleavage, where his hand grasped my boob through my top, and he looked up through his thick lashes like his character was silently asking for permission, and in turn, he was also actually asking me permission, and I nodded very small, hardly noticeable, and he pretended to latch to my nipple. I was clothed but it still made them erect with the warmth of his breath through my T-shirt.

There was a brief silence.

Then the director clapped his hands. “Brilliant! Let’s do it again.”

Luke let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, sure. Again.”

I swallowed. “Yep. Again.”

We were so screwed.

later that night the hotel room was dimly lit, a soft glow from the bedside lamp casting long shadows along the walls. The air outside was cool and damp from the lingering drizzle, but inside, there was a warmth one that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the man sitting beside me on the bed.

Luke leaned back against the headboard, one arm draped lazily over the back of the pillows, his fingers idly playing with the edge of the script resting between us. He’d been quiet for the past few minutes, which wasn’t entirely unusual, but I could feel something brewing in the air between us.

Then, finally, he exhaled, tapping the pages of the script against his knee before looking at me.

“I was thinking,” he started, hesitating just slightly, “if you’re comfortable with it… maybe we could run through the scene again? Just the two of us. Without an audience.”

I blinked.

I hadn’t expected that.

“The...” I shifted slightly. “The intimate scene?”

He nodded, sitting up a little. “Yeah. I just thought… rehearsing it alone might help. Make it feel less, I don’t know, performative? Less like we’re being observed and more like… just us, figuring it out.” His voice softened, cautious, like he didn’t want to push too far. “But only if you’re okay with it.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek.

It wasn’t a bad idea. In fact, it actually made a lot of sense. The whole point of these scenes was to feel natural, effortless, full of emotion and that was hard when we had a room full of people analysing every breath and movement.

And it wasn’t like we’d be doing anything we wouldn't be already be doing in the actual scene.

Still… the thought of going through it in this setting alone, in a hotel room, with no one watching but us made my stomach tighten.

Not in a bad way.

Just in a way that made me very aware of how close Luke was sitting.

I swallowed. “Yeah. Okay.”

His eyes searched mine for a second, like he was making sure I meant it, and then he smiled, soft and warm. “Okay.”

Luke sat up properly, setting the script aside. “Alright,” he murmured, rolling his shoulders back slightly, slipping into that same headspace he’d been in earlier during rehearsals.

I mirrored him, shifting so I was sitting across from him, knees nearly brushing.

This scene was a turning point for our characters a moment charged with unspoken emotions, where a touch meant more than words. Where longing turned into action.

Luke exhaled, then slowly so damn slowly he reached for me.

Just like he had in rehearsal.

Fingers hovering first, as if giving me space to pull away, before he finally, finally touched my skin.

It was supposed to be choreographed. Precise. But here, in this moment, with no one watching, it felt different.

More real.

His fingertips brushed along the side of my arm, barely there, and yet it sent a trail of warmth straight down my spine.

I knew I was supposed to react to let my character’s emotions show through me but I wasn’t entirely sure which part of me was acting anymore.

Luke’s jaw tensed slightly, his breathing shifting just enough for me to notice.

He was feeling it too.

We went through the scene touches, pauses, deep breaths lingering in the space between us. And then, finally, the kiss.

Luke hesitated for just a beat, eyes flickering to mine, waiting.

And I leaned in first.

The moment our lips met, everything else fell away.

The scene was supposed to be soft at first, testing, and then deeper more desperate, more needing. And damn, if Luke didn’t follow that rhythm perfectly.

His hand cupped my jaw, tilting my face just enough to deepen the kiss, and I felt my fingers instinctively gripping the fabric of his shirt.

He then moved again down towards my ear and then down my neck, his breath hot again as his lips barely touched my skin.

He kept going, leading down across my chest to my cleavage, where again his hand grasped my boob through my top, and then he did that thing again where he looked up through his lashes at me.

The eye contact he shared was so intimate, and then he pulled my top over my shoulders and head, and the cool air instantly made me shiver.

His hot hand came back up to my breast, and he palmed it through the thin lacy bra I had on. He looked up again, asking permission, and I nodded, and his hands went behind my back, working on undoing the little clips holding it together.

When he finally got it, he slowly took it off and immediately latched to my nipple.

I knew when I auditioned that I would be signing up for real boob stuff, but the rest would all be faked softcore porn where it was choreographed to look real, but we would have modesty garments...except for the breast play that was very real.

And man, was this such a surreal moment. I couldn't help but slip out a moan...a real moan.

He looked up again and smirked as he moved to the next breast, sucking and biting that one, and I had to close my eyes; it felt so good.

He moved to lay me back on the bed and crawled slowly on top of me.

He takes his time kissing down my body, making me relax further from each kiss, and then he gets towards my pussy, and he nudges my legs a bit, looking back up and making eye contact, pulling up my skirt and my knickers to the side.

"I want you to look at me no matter what," he demands, and I nod, watching as Luke sticks his tongue flat out and licks a stripe up my pussy, making me gasp and close my eyes.

"Look at me," he says. I force my eyes open again and watch him as he continues to suck and bite the sensation, something I've never experienced quite like this before.

I was getting closer; he was working his magic on me while we continued our eye contact, making this all the more hotter. I had no idea anything could feel this right.

I bit my lip, and I knew I was close. He knew too and stopped and started kissing his way back up my body, kissing me, letting me taste myself.

He moved and positioned himself in between my legs and made eye contact again.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" He said so softly and gently, and I nodded quickly, unable to form words as he pushed in his cock slowly. I knew better than to close my eyes even though that's the only thing I wanted to do right now. In this very short time, I realised why he wanted to look into my eyes; it was the best way to read how a person felt, staring straight into their soul, seeing the pleasure and the pain show in their eyes.

One of my hands tangled in his hair, pulling slightly as my other hand dragged my nails down his back.

"Fuck," the word sounding so dirty coming out of his sweet mouth.

He leaned back in, and we were making out. The butterflies in my stomach were no joke. This just felt so right. Like, this is how it's always meant to feel.

We continued for a while, finding our rhythm, our bodies working together just like Mother Nature intended.

"I'm close," I whispered.

"Me too." He was breathing heavily and began kissing my neck in the moment, not even caring if he left a hickey.

I came first, but he wasn't long after. We were both breathing heavily in. hot sticky mess, our hair all messed up. We lay next to each other for a second, just catching our breaths and replaying what just happened.

A heavy silence settled between us.

Then, finally, Luke huffed a small, breathless laugh.

“Well,” he murmured, voice slightly hoarse, “I think that was… productive.”

I let out a shaky laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Very… methodical.”

He grinned, thumb brushing absentmindedly against my wrist before he finally sat back, giving us both some much-needed distance.

And yet, as I met his gaze again, I knew we were both thinking the exact same thing.

We were so beyond rehearsing.

The aftermath of filming the intimate scene was… surreal.

The second the director called cut, the air felt thick not just between Luke and me, but throughout the entire set. It was like everyone had collectively forgotten to breathe.

I could still feel him.

The ghost of his touch on my skin, the warmth of his breath against my lips, the way his hands had held me like I was something precious.

And from the way Luke was still looking at me, his chest rising and falling slightly deeper than usual, I knew he felt it too.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then, the director exhaled a breath that almost sounded like relief before breaking into a wide smile.

“That,” he said, pointing between us, “was stunning.”

The entire crew murmured in agreement, nodding, exchanging glances like they had witnessed something.

“That felt so incredibly real,” the director continued, stepping forward. “It wasn’t just technically perfect it was authentic. It had depth, and connection and...” He laughed, shaking his head. “It was like watching two people who are actually in love.”

Luke and I exchanged a look.

Then, at the same time, we both grinned, biting back laughter.

“Must be our undeniable chemistry,” Luke said smoothly, eyes twinkling.

I hummed in agreement, nudging him slightly with my shoulder. “Truly a natural phenomenon.”

The director chuckled, shaking his head in amusement before clapping his hands together. “Alright, let’s reset for the next scene.”

The crew quickly dispersed, leaving Luke and me standing there, the echoes of what we’d just done still hanging between us.

And that’s when the trouble arrived.

I should have known we wouldn’t get away with it.

Not with them lurking around.

Nicola, Claudia, and Jonathan practically ambushed us the second we stepped off set, their faces radiating mischief.

“Well, well, well,” Jonathan drawled, arms crossed as he rocked back on his heels. “Would you look at who just wrapped the most romantic scene of the season.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, here we go.”

Claudia gasped dramatically. “You think we weren’t going to bring it up?”

Nicola nodded eagerly, leaning in. “I mean, you did just make half the crew believe you were really about to have sex.”

Luke snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Come on...”

“No, no, no, don’t come on us,” Jonathan interrupted, pointing a very accusatory finger at Luke. “Do you know what the crew was saying?!”

I frowned. “What?”

Jonathan grinned wickedly. “One of them told me that it was so soft and intimate that it felt like they were intruding on a private moment between two people genuinely in love.”

Luke and I froze.

Nicola wiggled her eyebrows. “Anything you’d like to share with the class?”

I let out a deep sigh. “We were acting.”

Jonathan gasped. “You’re telling me that level of yearning was just acting?”

“Obviously,” Luke said smoothly, though the smirk tugging at his lips totally betrayed him.

Claudia grinned. “You sure about that, lover boy?”

Luke gave her an unimpressed look. “Yes.”

Jonathan hummed, unconvinced. “Mmm. If you say so.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You lot are so annoying.”

Nicola shrugged. “And yet, here we are.”

Claudia clapped her hands. “Anyway, we just wanted to congratulate you on giving the best love scene this show has ever had.”

Jonathan waggled his eyebrows at Luke. “And on finally embracing your inner romantic lead.”

Luke sighed dramatically. “God, I hate you all.”

I just laughed, nudging him gently. “Come on, Mr. Authentic Chemistry, let’s get out of here before they start planning our wedding again.”

Jonathan gasped. “Wait. That’s an idea—”

“NOPE.” Luke grabbed my hand and dragged me away before they could say another word.

But even as we walked off, their laughter ringing behind us, I couldn’t shake the smile on my lips.

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