Chapter 10 It Wasnt Supposed to Happen
By Monday morning, Orm had decided that the previous Thursday night had never happened.
It was a ridiculous decision, especially considering she had spent the entire weekend doing everything except forgetting it.
She had tried sleeping.
She had failed.
She had watched three episodes of a drama she normally enjoyed and remembered none of them.
She had gone grocery shopping and stood in the middle of an aisle for ten minutes because she suddenly remembered the way Ling had looked at her under the fluorescent lights of Veyra's empty creative department.
She had even attempted to clean her apartment, which lasted until she found herself staring at the same shelf for fifteen minutes while thinking about Ling's voice when she had admitted she was afraid to trust someone again.
So, by Sunday night, Orm had reached a conclusion.
The only reasonable solution was denial.
If she pretended Thursday had never happened, perhaps Monday would cooperate.
It didn't.
The moment she stepped into Veyra, she saw Ling.
She was standing near the reception area with Khun Dew, discussing something on a tablet. She wore a dark suit, her hair neatly styled, her expression composed and professional.
Nothing about her suggested that she had stood inches from Orm three nights earlier and confessed things she had probably spent years refusing to say aloud.
Nothing suggested that she had looked at Orm's lips.
Nothing suggested that she had whispered, We should stop.
And nothing suggested that she had been just as reluctant to walk away as Orm had been.
Orm slowed.
Ling looked up.
Their eyes met.
For one brief second, the office disappeared.
Then Ling gave her a polite nod.
"Good morning."
Orm swallowed.
"Morning."
Khun Dew looked between them.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Orm immediately looked away.
She hated that everyone seemed capable of noticing things before she was ready to admit them.
She walked toward her desk.
Bow was already there.
"You're late."
"I'm two minutes early."
"Exactly."
Orm dropped her bag beside her chair.
Bow looked toward the executive corridor.
Then back at Orm.
"Everything okay?"
"Perfect."
Bow stared.
"That's the least convincing word you've ever said."
"I'm fine."
"Okay."
Orm opened her laptop.
Bow leaned closer.
"You look like you didn't sleep."
"I slept."
"How long?"
Orm paused.
"Enough."
Bow smiled.
"That's not a number."
"Can we work?"
Bow laughed softly.
"Fine."
Orm focused on her screen.
But she could feel Ling somewhere behind her.
And somehow, knowing that was enough to make her heart behave like an idiot.
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The first meeting of the week was about Aurelia.
It should have been routine.
It wasn't.
The conference room was filled with the usual people: P'Cherry with her notebook and terrifyingly organised agenda, Khun Dew at the head of the table, Bow reviewing the latest creative materials, Fluke checking production schedules,
and Ling sitting beside Khun Dew with the calm authority she seemed to carry everywhere.
Orm sat across from her.
That was unfortunate.
Very unfortunate.
She tried to concentrate on the presentation.
P'Cherry was explaining the revised campaign direction.
"The client liked the community content from last week," she said. "They want to lean further into the relationship aspect."
Orm's stomach tightened.
"The relationship aspect?" Bow asked.
P'Cherry nodded.
"The public response to Ling and Orm has been stronger than expected."
Fluke smiled.
"That's one way to put it."
Orm gave him a warning look.
He immediately looked down at his notes.
Khun Dew took over.
"The Aurelia campaign was designed around connection. The original concept focused on authentic relationships and the idea that people remember how someone makes them feel. The unexpected public interest in the two of you has amplified that message."
Orm looked toward Ling.
Ling was expressionless.
Khun Dew continued.
"The client doesn't want us to manufacture something artificial. They want something that feels genuine."
Orm almost laughed.
That was the exact problem.
Because pretending had stopped feeling artificial a long time ago.
P'Cherry opened another file.
"The next shoot is tomorrow."
Orm looked at the schedule.
"What are we filming?"
"A short romantic sequence."
Orm's stomach dropped.
Ling finally looked up.
"What kind of sequence?"
P'Cherry smiled.
"The first kiss."
Silence.
Orm nearly choked on her coffee.
Fluke coughed into his hand.
Bow suddenly became fascinated by her notebook.
Khun Dew looked entirely too calm.
Ling stared at P'Cherry.
"The first kiss?"
"Yes."
"For the campaign?"
"Yes."
Orm looked at Ling.
Ling looked at her.
Neither said anything.
P'Cherry continued as if she hadn't just dropped a grenade onto the conference table.
"The client thinks the campaign needs an emotional turning point. We've established the relationship through photographs, public appearances and the softer domestic material. Now they want one scene that makes the audience believe the relationship is real."
Orm cleared her throat.
"How realistic are we talking?"
P'Cherry smiled.
"Very."
Fluke raised his hand.
"Can I leave?"
"No," P'Cherry said.
"Just checking."
Khun Dew folded her hands.
"The important thing is that the scene cannot feel choreographed."
Orm looked at the table.
Cannot feel choreographed.
That was exactly what she was afraid of.
Ling spoke.
"We'll do it professionally."
Orm looked at her.
Ling didn't look back.
Professional.
Of course.
That was what they needed.
Professional.
Controlled.
Safe.
Exactly what Ling had said that night.
Exactly what Orm had agreed to.
Except the thought of kissing Ling no longer felt like a performance.
And that was a problem.
A very serious one.
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The meeting continued.
They discussed wardrobe, lighting, location and the emotional progression of the scene.
Orm heard almost none of it.
She was too aware of Ling sitting across from her.
Too aware of the fact that tomorrow they were expected to kiss.
For the campaign.
In front of cameras.
With a director.
With a crew.
With people watching.
That should have made it easier.
If thousands of people could watch them pretend to be lovers, then surely one staged kiss shouldn't matter.
Except the previous Thursday had changed the equation.
Before, Orm could have kissed Ling and told herself it was acting.
Now she wasn't sure she could.
Because she knew what it felt like when Ling looked at her without an audience.
She knew what it sounded like when Ling's voice softened.
She knew what it meant when Ling said she was afraid.
And she knew, with a certainty she didn't want to examine too closely, that if their lips met tomorrow, she might not remember that it was supposed to be fake.
When the meeting finally ended, everyone began gathering their things.
Orm stood.
Ling did too.
For a moment, they were alone near the conference table.
"Are you okay?" Ling asked.
Orm looked at her.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Ling hesitated.
"The shoot."
"Oh."
Orm forced a smile.
"It's work."
Ling nodded.
"Right."
Orm looked at her.
"Is that what you're telling yourself?"
Ling's expression changed.
"What?"
"That it's just work."
Ling was silent.
Orm immediately regretted asking.
"Forget it."
She walked past.
Ling caught her wrist.
Not tightly.
Just enough to stop her.
Orm looked down at Ling's hand.
Ling released her immediately.
"Sorry."
Orm looked at her.
"Don't."
Neither spoke.
Then Ling said quietly,
"Tomorrow is just a shoot."
Orm nodded.
"Right."
She walked away.
Neither of them believed it.
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The next afternoon, the set was ready.
The shoot was being held in a private studio in central Bangkok, transformed into a warm apartment interior for Aurelia's latest commercial.
The campaign team had built an entire living room around the concept of intimacy.
Soft lighting.
Bookshelves.
A small kitchen.
A couch positioned beneath a window.
Photographs scattered across a table.
Everything had been designed to look lived-in.
Real.
The irony was not lost on Orm.
She stood in the middle of the set wearing a simple cream blouse and a soft skirt, while a stylist adjusted her hair.
Across the room, Ling was having her makeup touched up.
Orm looked away.
She had promised herself she wouldn't stare.
She failed.
Ling was wearing a pale shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows and dark trousers.
Simple.
Elegant.
Distracting.
Their eyes met in the mirror.
Orm looked away immediately.
The stylist smiled.
"Nervous?"
"No."
The woman laughed.
"You are."
Orm sighed.
"Is it that obvious?"
"A little."
Orm looked toward Ling.
"She doesn't look nervous."
The stylist followed her gaze.
"Maybe she's better at hiding it."
Orm didn't answer.
Because she suspected that was exactly what Ling was doing.
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The director gathered them before the shoot.
"Don't think too much about the camera."
Orm almost laughed.
Easy for him to say.
"This isn't supposed to feel like a performance," he continued. "The audience needs to feel like they're witnessing something private."
Ling nodded.
Orm nodded.
"The scene is simple," he explained. "You're talking. You get close. There's a moment where neither of you knows what to say. Then you kiss."
He demonstrated the pacing with his hands.
"Nothing dramatic. No exaggerated movement. Just a quiet kiss."
Orm's heart was pounding.
"How many takes?"
The director smiled.
"As many as we need."
Great.
Ling glanced at her.
Orm pretended not to notice.
The director continued.
"And remember, this is about emotion, not choreography."
Ling said,
"Understood."
Orm nodded.
The crew moved into position.
The cameras were tested.
Lighting adjusted.
Sound checked.
Everything was ready.
Orm stood opposite Ling.
The director called,
"Action."
And they began.
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