Lily
The shrill sound of Lily Hayes' alarm shattered the quiet of her small Los Angeles apartment.
She groaned and blindly reached across the nightstand, knocking over a book before finally silencing the noise. Morning sunlight pushed through the thin curtains, painting warm stripes across the room.
"Great," she muttered, rubbing her eyes.
Another day.
Another rehearsal.
Another chance to completely embarrass herself.
She dragged herself out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen, where the coffee maker waited like a lifeline. As the machine hummed to life, her gaze drifted toward the kitchen counter.
The script was still there.
Sunset Romance.
Her name was printed boldly on the front page.
Lily Hayes — Lynette.
She picked it up and flipped through the pages while sipping her coffee. The lines felt stiff in her hands.
Too perfect.
Too polished.
Too fake.
Lily stared at the page.
"Who actually says this stuff?" she groaned.
Her phone buzzed.
Mark — Agent
She hesitated before answering.
"Morning, superstar," Mark said brightly.
Lily leaned against the counter. "It's barely morning."
"You ready for rehearsal today?"
"Sure," she said, though her tone lacked confidence.
Mark's voice turned serious. "Listen, Lil. This show is big. Network big. If it works, it could change everything."
She already knew that.
That was the problem.
Thousands of actresses in LA would kill for the role she'd been given, and somehow she was the one holding it.
And she was terrified she'd ruin it.
"Just… trust yourself," Mark continued. "You got this role for a reason."
"Yeah," Lily said softly.
She hung up and stared at the script again.
"Alright, Lynette," she muttered.
Time to pretend.
Ethan
Across the city, Ethan Miller burned his tongue on coffee.
"Damn it."
He set the cup down quickly and glared at it like it had personally betrayed him.
His apartment looked like a war zone of paper—scripts scattered across the desk, couch, and floor. Red pen marks filled nearly every page.
In the center of the chaos sat one script in particular.
Sunset Romance.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen of his laptop.
The producers had been clear.
"Make it feel real."
Simple request.
Except the script was drowning in clichés.
He scribbled another note across the page.
Cut this line.
Too cheesy.
Make her messier.
Ethan liked stories that felt human. Imperfect. Honest.
And this one?
This one felt like plastic.
He tapped his pen against the desk thoughtfully.
The lead actress was Lily Hayes.
He'd seen a few clips of her interviews online.
Sharp.
Sarcastic.
Maybe she could handle something real.
Or maybe she was just another Hollywood diva.
Ethan sighed, grabbing his jacket.
"Well," he muttered.
"Guess we'll find out."