Eyes Across the Table

The meeting room gleamed under the afternoon sun—polished wood, floor-to-ceiling windows, and the distant hum of the city below. Sophie sat at one end of the long table, posture flawless, green eyes scanning documents she had already read twice. Claire, her manager, sat beside her, sharp and composed, while two bodyguards lingered near the door, alert but discreet. The faint scent of coffee and polished wood filled the air, mingling with the soft rustle of papers and the occasional muted tap of fingers on the table.

The door opened.

Liam stepped in with Max at his side, sunglasses indoors like he belonged in a magazine shoot, dark hair slightly tousled, the silver horse pendant catching a perfect beam of light. The room seemed to shift imperceptibly, a subtle pull that Sophie felt in her chest.

Sophie’s gaze flicked to it instinctively. Her breath hitched. A soft warmth spread across her chest.

The pendant.

The night.

The kiss.

She forced her fingers to rest calmly on the table, though a faint blush crept onto her cheeks. Her legs tapped lightly under the table, an unconscious rhythm betraying her otherwise perfect composure. Each tap was a small drumbeat of awareness she tried to ignore, a reminder that the past wasn’t entirely buried.

Stay calm. It’s just a meeting. Just another co-star. But I knew it the second he walked in. That pendant… God, of all things to remember. I touched it. My fingers brushed against it. His hand… warm, steady… that moment wasn’t supposed to matter. Don’t show it. Don’t let anyone see. You’ve survived worse—cameras, rumors, breakups you never even wanted. I can handle one musician with a horse necklace. Breathe. I am Sophie Hale. Professionals don’t blush.

Her cheeks warmed anyway.

Liam looked at Sophie, eyes meeting hers for a second too long. Recognition flickered, a memory he definitely should not let surface here. Across from her, he adjusted the pages in front of him, though he hadn’t actually read a single line in the last five minutes. His jaw was tense, shoulders subtly coiled, a silent signal to Max to keep watch.

One night. One girl. One kiss I blamed on adrenaline and alcohol and the kind of reckless impulse I lecture myself about constantly. And now she’s sitting right in front of me, eyes like emeralds, looking like she stepped out of the exact moment I’ve been trying not to replay. Don’t stare. Max will kill me if I even blink wrong. Pretend nothing happened. Except it did. And she remembers. That blush—wasn’t in the script. Perfect. This is going to be fun… and frustrating.

He exhaled quietly, jaw tense. Professional. Work. Nothing else.

They exchanged polite, careful smiles, pretending nothing burned beneath the surface. Max caught it instantly. “Professional,” he muttered under his breath. Liam didn’t respond, but Sophie noticed the subtle tension in his shoulders. Every tiny tilt of his head, every micro-gesture, was charged with the history that still bound them.

The director cleared his throat. “Alright, let’s cover everything before we start filming. First, a quick rundown of the project and your characters. Ethan is a skilled horse trainer, Emma is hesitant but eager to learn. Most of your chemistry comes from subtle gestures, trust-building, and observing one another. Nothing dramatic yet.”

Sophie straightened her notes. Okay. Subtle awareness. Keep it professional. Horses… focus. Her fingers tapped on the paper, again and again, shaking off thoughts that kept pulling her back to the kiss and his touch.

“Dialogue should feel natural, nothing forced,” the director continued. “We’ll also go over timing, blocking, and how the camera will capture your interactions. Liam, Sophie, eye contact is key—small movements, glances, gestures, that’s where the bond is shown.”

Claire leaned slightly toward Sophie, whispering reminders about posture, notes, and presence, while Max quietly instructed Liam on staying focused and keeping to the script. Each whisper was a small reminder to maintain professionalism, yet both were acutely aware of every reaction from the other.

The director then turned to logistics. “Travel schedules, costumes, horse safety, and security protocols—everything must be coordinated. No surprises. And yes, that includes managing the press.”

Professional, Sophie. Professional. She straightened a strand of hair behind her ear, telling herself not to imagine his hand brushing hers as they groomed the same horse.

Liam’s thoughts raced. Keep it controlled. Don’t let Claire or Max see anything. Focus on the horses, the movements. But God… she’s perfect. That blush… that subtle awareness… every second she’s in frame, she’s distracting me. Just play it cool.

Just then, Max’s phone buzzed sharply in his pocket. He pulled it out, glanced—and froze.

A slow, disbelieving exhale escaped him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What now?” Liam asked.

Max rotated the screen toward him. A news headline glowed:

BREAKING: Hollywood Star Sophie Hale to Co-Lead New Romance Film With Rising Musician Liam Hayes — Sources Say On-Screen Chemistry Expected To Be ‘Electric’

Leaked early. Already everywhere. The tension in the room rose a few degrees, almost tangible.

Claire’s eyes sharpened instantly. “Who leaked this? We weren’t supposed to go public for another week.”

Sophie’s heartbeat spiked. Liam’s jaw clenched.

Max swore under his breath. “This will blow up in an hour. Paparazzi, gossip sites, fan speculation… all of it.” He shot Liam a look that carried a thousand warnings. “You two need to be extra careful. No slip-ups. None.”

The director leaned back in his chair, expression tight but controlled. “This isn’t ideal, but panicking won’t help. Max, Claire, coordinate immediately: press statement, talking points, security protocols. Everything the actors say goes through us first. Sophie, Liam… keep composure. Professionalism first. Chemistry on-screen will speak for itself, but off-screen, no surprises. Understood?”

Sophie felt heat flush her cheeks again, but this time it wasn’t from memory. It was from the realization: the world was already watching. Every glance, every movement could be caught, every small smile interpreted.

Max nodded. “Two weeks to the official press conference. Everything prepped, rehearsed, and approved before cameras see a thing. We’ll handle the leaks—control the narrative.”

Claire scribbled notes rapidly, glancing at Sophie and Liam. “We’ve got this. Just stick to the plan. No slip-ups.”

The director leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. “Remember, the press conference in two weeks will be the film’s first official public introduction. Until then, nothing goes out—no comments, no photos, no leaks. Max, Claire, you coordinate everything: talking points, media prep, security, everything. Sophie, Liam… maintain composure. Professionalism first. Understood?”

Sophie exhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. Liam’s jaw clenched, eyes flicking to her for a brief, silent acknowledgment. Both of them knew their lives had just gotten a lot more complicated—but for now, the plan was clear, and the press conference would set the tone.

The room settled into a quiet hum again, papers rustling, suitcases waiting, and while everyone focused on their professional tasks, Sophie and Liam both consciously felt how that night and the subtle, dangerous tension had already begun to smolder between them, a tension that would follow them through every moment of filming.