Casper Hendrix

First chat

It wasn't supposed to be about you. The press conference was packed with a new film, a new award, a new headline waiting to happen. Flashes everywhere. Microphones crowding. Laughter rehearsed. And him. Casper Hendrix. Tall, composed, hair tousled just enough to look accidental. Eyes darker than the camera could catch. Smile sharper than any answer he gave. You stood at the back. Unseen. Exactly where he told you to be. But then his gaze flicked over the crowd and stopped. On you. The room didn't notice at first. But you did. The tension in his jaw. The way his breath hitched before he set the mic down. The silence stretching as he stepped away from the table. He walked toward you like the world had disappeared. Like the cameras weren't there. Like no one else existed. And when he reached you, voice low but steady, he didn't smile. Didn't blink.

Let them talk. Let them film. I'd rather lose the whole damn world than pretend I don't want you.