Chapter Twenty-Two
Miles
The moment I stepped onto set, that familiar pit in my stomach twisted tighter. The week I’d missed wasn’t some vacation—it was lost ground I had to claw back, and everyone made that clear. The director didn’t sugarcoat it.
“If you can’t catch up on a few scenes after being gone a week, maybe you’re not cut out for this,” he said flatly, eyes sharp as daggers.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. They weren’t wrong to expect more. I had to prove I belonged here—not just as Julian Vale’s temporary photo shoot buddy, but as me. Someone who could stand on his own.
I’m not a nobody. I’m not just some lucky extra. The thought pumped fire into my veins. I’d show them.
But then there was Ethan.
He appeared out of nowhere, that smirk of his already slicing into me like a blade.
“So, you’re back,” he said, voice dripping with something that tasted like envy mixed with mockery. “Playing house with Julian for a week must’ve gone well. Too bad that doesn’t make you an actor.”
I forced myself to meet his gaze, ignoring the jab. “I’m here to work.”
He laughed, low and bitter. “Work? You think prancing around with a big name makes you something? You’re still the nobody that nobody remembers once the cameras stop rolling.”
I clenched my fists, heat rushing to my face. But instead of snapping back, I nodded. Let him think that. I’d let my work speak for itself.
Inside, though, the fear gnawed—what if he was right? What if I wasn’t cut out for this?
But then I thought about Julian—the way he looked at me sometimes, the trust I saw in those rare cracks of his armor. That was enough to keep me fighting.
I sat on the edge of the chair, script spread open on my lap, eyes skimming the lines over and over.
The words felt heavier today, like they were sinking into my skin instead of flowing out.
I could nail a few—perfect inflection, right emotion—but then my mouth tangled on the next line, like my brain was caught in quicksand.
You’ve got this. Just focus.
The assistant called my name, and I shoved the script into my bag, heart thumping so loud I thought the whole set could hear it. When the director yelled “Places!”, I stepped onto the scene, trying to channel confidence I didn’t feel.
A couple of lines went okay. I even caught a smirk from one of the crew members, which felt like a small victory. But then the next few takes—I stumbled. Words caught in my throat, lines forgot, my emotions felt flat where they should have soared.
After what felt like minutes but was only ten, the director cut through the tension, “All right, break! Let’s reset.”
My stomach dropped. Ten minutes, and I’d already blown it.
Back in the corner, Renee found me, her presence like a warm light in the gray gloom of doubt.
“Hey,” she said softly, kneeling beside me. “I’ve seen you work. You can do this. You will get this. Don’t let the stumbles fool you—you’re meant for this role. Not just any role—lead role.”
Her words wrapped around me like a shield, pushing the sinking feeling back a little.
“Everyone here sees it, Miles. You have something special. Don’t forget that.”
I managed a small, grateful smile, clutching the little spark of hope she gave me.
I sat down in one of the empty chairs near the set, the script limp in my lap. My chest still felt tight from the director’s clipped voice, from the way the crew had started whispering when I stumbled... again.
Out of habit—maybe stupid, anxious habit—I pulled out my phone, flicking through messages just to distract myself. A new notification blinked at the top.
A text from someone I barely talked to anymore.
???: Dude... seen this yet?
A link.
I shouldn’t have clicked it. I knew I shouldn’t have. But my thumb betrayed me.
The article loaded—big bold headline.
“America’s Sweetheart and the Nobody Actor—Julian Vale’s new plaything?”
Right beneath it... the photo. That photo. Our almost kiss. Florence. The moment I couldn’t stop thinking about.
Except the way they framed it, made me feel like a parasite. Like a shadow leeching onto Julian’s light.
“Up-and-coming? Hardly. Miles Bennett, one-movie wonder, clings to Julian Vale in desperate bid to stay relevant. Sources say the model turned actor seems to have found himself a temporary charity case abroad.”
I swallowed hard.
Line after line tore into me.
“No one outside of indie film buffs even knew Bennett’s name until Vale’s little ‘tour’ of Europe. Rumors suggest the actor is more interested in Julian’s fame than in any real career—or relationship.”
A sharp breath punched out of me.
I locked the phone. But the words clung to my skin.
They think you don’t belong. They think you’re using him. They think you’re nothing.
My stomach twisted. My chest felt tight again. I looked up, trying to shake it off... but Ethan was there, across the lot, smirking like he knew exactly what I’d just seen.
I gripped the phone tighter, forcing my breathing to slow.
You’re not going to break down. Not here. Not in front of him. Or anyone else.
But God... it hurt.
My phone buzzed suddenly in my lap.
I barely glanced at it, expecting maybe a text from Renee or my mom checking in again. But when the name lit up on the screen, my stomach dropped to my shoes.
Julian Vale.
I stared, thumb frozen over the screen. What the hell was he calling me for? Was he mad about the article? About the photo? Was this him telling me to stay the hell away?
God—I knew this would happen. I knew it.
Heart pounding, I swiped to answer. “H-Hey, Julian, look—I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know the paparazzi were there. I’m not trying to use you or get attention or anything, I didn’t even post the photo, I didn’t—”
His voice cut through my rambling like a quiet blade.
“Miles.”
I shut up. Immediately. His tone wasn’t sharp... but it was enough to make the breath catch in my throat.
Silence buzzed for a moment, like a thread stretched tight.
Then Julian spoke again, low and rough, like he hated having to say any of this out loud.
“I know you’re not.”
I blinked. “What...?”
“I called to tell you not to listen to them,” Julian said. “The article. The comments. All of it. Don’t let that shit crawl into your head, Bennett. It’ll eat you alive.”
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Julian Vale—the Julian Vale—calling me just to say that? To warn me?
My chest squeezed.
He knew. Of course he knew. What it felt like. The weight of every headline, every whisper behind your back. He lived with it every day. And somehow—even with everything he was dealing with—he thought to call me.
My voice came out soft, small. “You... read it?”
“Of course I read it,” he muttered. “I see everything. Can’t help it in this business.”
Another pause. I could almost see him, pacing somewhere in that giant apartment of his, running a hand through his hair like he always did when he was irritated or anxious.
“Don’t let them make you into what they want,” he said finally. “They’ll do it if you let them. Don’t give them that.”
My throat burned. No one had ever said something like that to me. Not like this.
“Julian...” I started, unsure what I was even trying to say. Thank you? I’m fine? Please keep talking because this is the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day?
But he sighed, cutting me off before I could find the words. “I’m hanging up before this gets weird. Just—”
A pause.
“—just remember what I said.”
And then the line went dead.
I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at it like it might explain what just happened.
My heart was racing. My face was warm.
And against every warning voice in my head, every logical reason to not get my hopes up, I felt the tiniest flicker of something bloom in my chest.
Maybe Julian Vale did care.
Even if he’d never say it.
I was still staring at my phone when a shadow fell over me.
I didn’t have to look up to know who it was.
“Wow,” Ethan said, dragging out the word like it tasted sweet on his tongue. “Look at you. Already famous for almost kissing Julian Vale. Must be nice to get attention for something other than actual acting.”
I swallowed hard, thumb locking my phone screen, shoving it into my lap.
“Guess playing house with him for a week did have its perks,” Ethan went on, fake sympathy dripping from his voice. “But don’t get too comfortable, Bennett. You’re not in his league. You’re not in anyone’s league.”
He leaned down closer, voice low and biting. “You really think Vale’s gonna keep looking at you after this? He chews up little nobodies like you for breakfast. He’s probably laughing about it right now.”
I kept my jaw tight, my face still.
Because if I let him see how much it stung—that he’d won.
But God, it burned.
He grinned, sharp and smug, and clapped me hard on the shoulder before walking off like he owned the place.
I exhaled through my nose.
Fingers curling tight in my lap.
They all thought I’d fail. The director. Ethan. The crew. The internet.
A nobody. A fluke. A joke. That’s what they all thought of me.
But I wasn’t going to let them be right. I was going to prove them all wrong.
One scene at a time. One breath at a time. No matter how long it took.
I lifted my phone again, thumb hovering over Julian’s name—just for a second—before locking it and sliding it away.
No shortcuts.
No favors.
I’d earn my place.
Even if it killed me.