Chapter Three — The Room I Wasn't Ready to Walk Into
If anxiety had a soundtrack, mine would be the echo of heels on marble floors and the distant hum of a thousand dreams colliding.
The network's main studio in downtown Lumera has that sterile kind of perfection — glass walls, white floors, air that smells like coffee and ambition. Everyone here looks like they've been preparing their whole lives for this moment.
I, on the other hand, just spent fifteen minutes in my car convincing myself not to drive away.
"You look like you're about to commit tax fraud," Ember says beside me, sliding her sunglasses into her hair. "Relax. It's just an audition."
"For The Last Page," I mutter, clutching the folded script like it might bite me. "That's not just anything."
"Fine, then think of it as closure," she says, tugging on my sleeve as we head toward the sign-in desk. "Or destiny. Or whatever poetic word makes you feel less like throwing up."
Ember's auditioning too — for Maya Finch, Nora Quinn's best friend and comic relief. It's a supporting role, but the fandom's already hyped about it online. That's Ember's thing: she lights up the sidelines. She makes background scenes memorable. She makes me brave.
---
The waiting area looks like a high-end café — producers pacing, actors whispering lines, assistants balancing coffee trays like Olympic athletes.
A few heads turn when I walk in. Whispers follow.
It's always the same:
Is that Sienna Everglow?
Didn't she quit acting?
Her hair's still blue?
I smile politely, pretending not to hear. Fame ages like glass — it looks clear, but one wrong move and it cracks.
"Sign here," the casting assistant says, sliding me a clipboard. Her eyes widen slightly when she reads my name. "You're reading for Nora Quinn, right?"
"That's me," I say, trying to sound confident.
As we sit, Ember leans in. "I still can't believe we're doing this. Two best friends, chasing the same show. Feels nostalgic."
"Except back then we were auditioning for soda commercials," I remind her.
"Yeah, and you booked every one. You and your 'natural smile.'"
"Hey, my natural smile paid our rent."
She laughs, bumping my shoulder. "And now it's gonna win you another headline."
---
When they finally call my name, my pulse quickens. The casting room door is half-open, the golden letters on it reading:
Studio B — Auditions: The Last Page.
I take a breath and step closer — and that's when I hear it.
A voice. Deep, calm, familiar. Too familiar.
> "Calen wouldn't say it like that," he's saying from inside the room. "He doesn't beg for her to stay. He just... can't find the words fast enough."
Every muscle in my body freezes.
No. No, no, no.
Ember looks at me, confused. "What's wrong?"
I point toward the door, whispering, "That's him."
"Who—"
"Axel Reeve."
Ember's eyes widen like she just witnessed a car crash. "Oh. Oh, no. The one from the gala?"
"The one and only."
We listen again. Inside, there's laughter — soft, charmed, like the room is in love with him already. Of course they are. Axel Reeve could sell heartbreak like it's a luxury brand. His voice has that quiet gravity — low, steady, a little rough at the edges, like it's been through storms and came out polished.
I hate that I remember exactly how it sounds.
---
They call him out a few minutes later, and the hallway seems to bend around his presence. He's wearing a simple white shirt, sleeves rolled, black slacks — nothing flashy, but he looks like he just stepped out of a magazine spread anyway.
Same strong jawline, same warm tan skin that catches the light perfectly. His hair's a little shorter than before, styled like he doesn't care and somehow still perfect.
He hasn't noticed me yet. Thank God.
But then he does.
Those grey-green eyes find me across the corridor, sharp and unreadable. A pause. A flicker of something — amusement? surprise?
Then a smirk, lazy and practiced.
"Well," he says softly, his voice carrying too easily. "Didn't expect to see you here, Everglow."
The nickname hits like static. "Don't start," I say before I can stop myself.
He chuckles under his breath, brushing past, a faint cologne of cedar and rain trailing behind him. "Wouldn't dream of it."
My stomach twists. He's still infuriatingly composed. Still magnetic. Still a problem.
Ember whispers the moment he's gone, "You two are like a deleted scene from an enemies-to-lovers movie."
"Except there's no love," I hiss.
"Yet."
---
Inside the audition room, the lights are bright and the air smells like nerves. Three producers, one casting director, and a monitor showing yesterday's screen tests.
I sit, script trembling slightly in my hands.
"Nora Quinn, scene twenty-three," the director says. "You ready, Sienna?"
As I start reading, something shifts.
The room falls quiet, and suddenly I'm not Sienna Everglow, the girl with blue hair and a tired smile. I'm Nora Quinn, sitting across from a man who left before she could ask him to stay, pretending words could fix what silence broke.
And somehow… it feels real.
---
When it's over, the director smiles. "Beautiful work, Sienna. We'll be in touch."
Outside, Ember's waiting, her eyes shining. "You killed it," she says. "And guess what? They said I might be perfect for Maya! We could actually work together!"
I grin, my heart still racing. "That would be insane."
She loops her arm through mine as we head for the exit. "So, Miss Everglow, you ready to face your past co-star again?"
I look back over my shoulder — at the golden studio doors, at the life I thought I'd left behind.
"Maybe," I say quietly. "But this time, I'm not the one playing pretend."
Outside, Lumera's sky burns in soft orange and violet — like it's blushing at what's about to begin.
Somewhere up there, the stars are waiting for the lights to come back on.