Locked in Your Gravity

Trailer Confinement

Liam walked toward his trailer, still slightly out of breath from calming Moonlight. Dust clung to his shirt, his hands trembled lightly from adrenaline, but all he wanted was one thing: to change and breathe in peace.

He didn’t get lucky.

Sophie caught up to him before he reached the door handle.

“Liam,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

He stopped. Didn’t turn immediately. Just closed his eyes for a second, knowing exactly what he should ignore. For her father. For the media. For everything.

Then he turned.

Her eyes were wide. Still scared. And yes… there was something else. Something he shouldn’t read if he wanted to stay sane.

“That was… terrifying,” she whispered, barely audible. “For a second, I thought… I don’t know. I just—”

“Sophie.” His voice was low, calm, deceptively composed. The kind of calm that masked how deeply her fear had struck him. “I’m fine. Moonlight is fine. Everything’s under control.”

Then she made a mistake.

She stepped closer.

“Don’t say it like that,” she whispered. “As if it was nothing. It looked dangerous. You could have—”

Her hands instinctively clenched together, trembling slightly.

Liam’s defenses faltered. He couldn’t look into those eyes and remain the cold professional. Especially not with her.

He leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “If you get scared of the horses because of this, filming will be harder for you. And I don’t want that to happen. Trust me… I’m okay.”

But Sophie didn’t stop. “I almost ran toward you,” she admitted. “Claire barely held me back.”

He felt it—a punch to the chest he hadn’t expected. And then she made another mistake:

Her fingers brushed his hand.

Not firmly. Not intentional. Just a light, instinctive touch. Enough to send heat racing up his arm to his shoulder.

“Sophie,” he said quietly, dangerously quietly. “You need to breathe.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but Liam acted faster.

He looked left, then right. Too many eyes. Too many people. Too many chances her father, Aleksander, or a paparazzo could appear like a storm from around the corner.

“Come with me,” he murmured.

Before she could even process, he grabbed her wrist. Not tightly, just enough to guide her. She was still trembling slightly.

He pulled her into the trailer, silently closing the door behind them and pressing the lock.

Sophie blinked. “You’re… locking us in?”

“Not us,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “You. Before someone sees your face like this.”

“Like what?”

Liam couldn’t believe she said it out loud, but he was tired and more honest than usual.

“Like you care what happens to me.”

The air thickened, warm, too quiet.

Sophie froze, barely breathing. “Maybe I do,” she said softly.

Liam felt a warmth swell in his chest, one he should have resisted. Her eyes. Her nearness. That tiny, trembling exhale she tried to hide.

“You have to stop looking at me like that,” he said roughly, almost angrily, just to save himself.

“How am I looking?” she whispered.

“Like… there’s something between us,” he admitted.

Silence stretched. Too long.

The trailer was small. The air too warm. She was too close. He was too vulnerable from the day’s events.

Sophie stepped half a step forward without realizing it.

Liam immediately raised his hand, gentle but firm. “Sophie… stop.”

Her shoulders lifted slightly. “I’m not going to panic over horses,” she said. “But for a second, I was scared for you. That’s all.”

It wasn’t all. They both knew it.

Liam exhaled, turning his gaze away briefly to compose himself. “I can handle horses. And I can handle you being scared. But what we can’t handle is… this.”

“It’s nothing,” she said too quickly, too defensively.

“Tell that to your face,” he said, almost teasingly, or else he would do something foolish.

Sophie bit her lip.

The worst possible thing she could do.

Liam looked at the ceiling as if searching for escape. “If anyone comes by, you have to look normal. Wait a minute. I’ll change. Then I’ll walk you out.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because people are looking at you differently now, after that scene,” he said. “Your father… Aleksander… cameras… everyone.”

The truth settled between them like a spark.

Sophie sat on a small bench by the trailer wall, still pale, but slowly calming.

Liam turned to grab a clean shirt. He didn’t want to face her while doing it; her eyes pinned him.

She was watching. The entire time.

He pulled the shirt over his head. Muscles taut from effort. His constant, deliberate self-control beginning to crack at the edges.

Only once he had a fresh shirt on did he turn to her.

“Ready?” he asked, firmer than he intended.

She didn’t move. Just stared.

Eyes slightly red from adrenaline. Lips parted slightly. And that feeling inside her, which she had tried to hide all day, now stood fully exposed.

“Liam…” she whispered, barely audible.

The sound struck him harder than anything. Nothing dramatic, nothing obvious. Just vulnerability. And yes, something he shouldn’t claim as his own.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Not now.”

And she moved.

Just a tiny step forward. Her breath brushed his skin, and he should have turned away. Seriously should. For her father, for the career he could ruin in a second.

But then she looked at him again.

The way no one had looked at him in months.

“I… really…” she started, then froze, searching for a word she didn’t dare speak.

And Liam fell.

Completely.

He slowly closed the gap between them, hand on the bench beside her so he wouldn’t touch too much, to maintain the illusion of control. “Sophie,” he whispered, “if we—”

“I know,” she replied, voice slightly trembling. “Just… that kiss… from that night… I feel it all the time.”

Liam closed his eyes. Thank God. Honesty at last. Perfect.

When he opened them, it was there. Fully there. No doubt about what she wanted—or what he wanted.

His voice broke in a half-breath. “You weren’t the only one.”

That was enough.

Sophie lifted her hand, first hesitant, then bolder, brushing her palm against his face. Gentle. Careful. As if checking he was real.

Liam fell even deeper.

He thought no more.

No room for thought.

He leaned forward slowly, careful not to overwhelm her. Her fingers curled around his neck. Their breaths intertwined. And just before their lips met, Sophie whispered:

“I don’t regret it.”

That was it.

His lips captured hers, soft but inevitable, like a force they had both ignored too long. No hesitation, no doubt. Just warmth spreading through him like a jolt. Her hand on his neck. His on her waist. The trailer disappeared. The air disappeared. Just her. Just him.

The kiss was different from the first one. Less alcohol, more truth. Less impulse, more of something frightening because it could no longer be dismissed as a “mistake.”

When they finally pulled back, still leaning toward each other, Sophie rested her forehead against his.

Both breathing too fast.

Neither dared to speak.

Of course, Liam spoke first. Because he had a talent for dismantling his own control.

“That…” he gasped, still catching his breath. “…was a very, very bad decision.”

Sophie barely laughed, more like a breath. “Maybe,” she whispered. “But it was… right.”

He closed his eyes, chuckling quietly to himself. Because that’s exactly the problem. It was.

When he moved back just enough to look at her, he saw it there in her eyes. No regret.

And yes, he wasn’t the only one shaken by that kiss.

“We have to get out,” he said, though he hadn’t moved.

“I know,” she replied, equally motionless.

But they lingered.

Too close.

Too long.

Breaking Point.