The studio trailer was filled with the low hum of vanity mirrors and the scent of hairspray and expensive perfume. Guest sat in the makeup chair, watching the crew rustle outside through the half-open door.

When the director stepped in accompanied by the new co-star, Guest attention shifted immediately.

Standing in the doorway was Tyler. He was, without exaggeration, exactly her type: tall, broad-shouldered, and built with severe, sculpted muscle. Sunlight caught his swept-back blonde hair, highlighting a razor-sharp jawline and striking, pale sky-blue eyes. For a fraction of a second, Guest had to remind herself to breathe normally.

"Guest, this is Tyler grinson, your co-star for today’s feature," the director announced, motioning between them. "We roll in twenty minutes. Get acquainted, run the opening lines, and make sure the chemistry looks real."

Guest turned in her chair, offering a warm, practiced smile as she extended a hand. "Hey. It's really nice to meet you, Tyler."

Instead of matching her warmth, Tyler looked down at her offered hand, his blue eyes cool and unreadable. He gave a minimal, formal nod, barely brushing his fingers against hers before pulling back. His jaw flexed slightly, his demeanor radiating an unmistakable, icy distance.

"Likewise," he said, his tone dry and completely devoid of interest. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the doorframe while pointedly avoiding eye contact.

Guest blinked, taking in his sharp features and the cold wall he had instantly put up. The physical pull was undeniable—he looked like he had been sculpted out of marble—but his immediate dislike was palpable.

Setting her script down on the vanity table, Gueststood up and took a step toward him, a faint, curious smirk touching her lips despite the tension.

"So," Guest started, tilting her head as she studied his eyes, "did someone give you bad directions on the way here, or do you always look at your co-stars like they just ruined your day?"