Page 16 of Flipping the Script
"Breathe, Quinn," Carmen coached gently. "You're supposed to be in love, not having a dental procedure."
"Maybe I should try the root canal instead," Quinn muttered, making Solen laugh—a genuine, surprised sound that made Quinn's stomach do something complicated.
"Better," Carmen said, snapping away. "Solen, pull her a little closer. Quinn, try not to look like you're being held hostage."
Solen's hand was warm against Quinn's lower back, her touch light but steady. Quinn could smell her perfume—something citrusy and green that reminded her of summergardens—and found herself leaning slightly into the contact before catching herself.
"Now look at each other like you're sharing a secret," Carmen directed.
Solen turned toward Quinn, her brown eyes dancing with something that might have been mischief. "What's the most rebellious thing you've ever done?"
The question caught Quinn off guard. "That's not—we're supposed to be posing."
"I am posing. Answer the question."
Quinn hesitated, hyperaware of Carmen's camera capturing every micro-expression. "I once turned in a screenplay three hours before deadline instead of three days early."
Solen's smile widened. "Scandalous. I'm surprised the industry hasn't blacklisted you."
"What about you?"
"I may have convinced a foster family's neighbor that I was actually British for an entire summer. Complete with accent and fake backstory about my parents being archaeologists."
Quinn found herself genuinely curious despite their artificial circumstances. "Why British?"
"Seemed more interesting than the truth. Plus, they kept giving me tea and biscuits."
Carmen lowered her camera, grinning. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. That looked completely natural."
Because it felt natural, Quinn realized with growing unease. Which was exactly the problem.
Iris stepped into the frame, studying them with the calculating gaze of someone who moved pieces on a very expensive chessboard. "We need to address the physical contact issue. Industry insiders specialize in spotting fake relationships, and right now Quinn's body language screams 'professional associate' rather than 'romantic partner.'"
"I'm not good at performing emotions I don't feel," Quinn admitted, her honesty surprising everyone, including herself.
Solen's expression softened. "Maybe that's because you're thinking of it as performing. What if we just... got to know each other better? As friends?"
The suggestion was reasonable, logical even. Quinn felt a jolt of recognition. Solen was right. The careful facade they were building for the cameras was starting to feel less like a costume and more like a second skin, fueled by genuine curiosity and connection. But her chest tightened at the idea of deliberately lowering her carefully maintained walls even further. Friendship meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant the possibility of disappointment. Still, their current approach was clearly failing.
"Strategic relationship building," Quinn said, as if labeling it would make it safer.
"Sure," Solen agreed easily. "Strategic."
Iris resumed firing questions at them—hypothetical scenarios about red carpet interviews, tabloid speculation, invasive personal questions. Quinn tried to relax, to channel the easy warmth she'd glimpsed between them moments earlier, but every question reminded her how much of herself she'd have to reveal to make this work.
"Let's try a mock interview," Iris announced, switching into entertainment journalist mode. "Diego Santos Rivera from Entertainment Weekly. 'Quinn, Solen, you've both been quite private about your personal lives. What made you decide to go public with this relationship?'"
Quinn started with another rehearsed response about "finding the right person at the right time," but the words died in her throat when she saw Solen's encouraging nod. Something about the actress's genuine attention made Quinn want to try harder.
"We couldn't hide it," Quinn said instead, surprising herself with the emotional honesty in her voice. "When something real happens, it shows."
Solen reached over and gently squeezed Quinn's hand. The contact was brief, casual, but it sent warmth shooting up Quinn's arm. "Plus, Quinn's terrible at pretending she doesn't feel things."
"I am not terrible at—" Quinn stopped, realizing the protest proved Solen's point. "Okay, maybe I'm terrible at pretending."
Carmen captured the moment—Quinn's indignant expression melting into reluctant amusement, Solen's delighted laughter, their hands still loosely connected. When she showed them the image on her camera display, Quinn stared at it in fascination. They looked like a couple who actually enjoyed each other's company.
"That," Iris said with satisfaction, "is what we're aiming for."
