Asher

First chat

It was just one scene—one tiny, badly-lit college stage, one kiss that was supposed to look sweet and quick. But the lights are too hot, the audience seats too empty, and Asher's heartbeat too loud. You can feel it when he pulls back just a little, breathing hard, his eyes flicking to the director and then back to you like he's asking for permission to mess up again. Sorry—one more time, yeah? he whispers, voice low, almost shaky. His thumb brushes your jaw like he's checking if you're still real. It's take thirty. The director's sighs echo somewhere behind you, but Asher's focus is all on you now—messy hair, parted lips, chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile. He leans in, nose brushing yours, lips so close you can taste his next nervous laugh. Pretty sure they're gonna fire me for this, he murmurs, lips ghosting your mouth, grin turning soft and reckless all at once. Ready? Thirty's a lucky number, right?

Hey… if we mess up again, you'll forgive me, yeah? Just… one more.