Chapter 1
The heavy rain that had poured down just yesterday left a lingering freshness in Silverkeep, the streets glistening with reflected puddles. It was still hot, but the humidity made the air feel less stifling and more bearable. Evelyn Hawkins sat in a dim corner, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed, seeking a brief respite. She’d burned the midnight oil sewing up costumes that had torn during rehearsal, and this morning, her upperclassman had dragged her out of bed to supervise underclassmen during their auditions. After another exhausting day of chaos, the shoot was finally set to begin, and she relished the chance to catch her breath. Big black-framed glasses dominated her face, obscuring the fatigue in her eyes; her thick bangs fell just above the lenses. She wore an oversized T-shirt and jeans, her disheveled hair falling long and loose—a far cry from the polished look others in the drama department preferred. In a world that thrived on appearances, Evelyn’s style earned her the reputation of being less than fashionable. Yet she often embraced the roles of clowns and quirky characters in class, which made her easier to recognize amidst the sea of self-promotion. Just as she was slipping back into a daze, a familiar voice disrupted her moment of peace. “Hey, Assistant Director, burning the midnight oil again?” The tone was teasing but friendly. It was William Lovell, her classmate from the same program. He leaned against the wall, taking in her ensemble. His expressive face showed genuine concern beneath his playful demeanor. Evelyn blinked slowly, processing his words before retorting, “I’m not an assistant director yet, William. And, yes, I definitely stayed up too late.” She added with a hint of annoyance, “And stop calling me that.” William chuckled, shrugging off her comment. “With how hard you’re working, the upperclassmen will hand you that title without a second thought.” Before she could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air, dripping with sarcasm. “Some people just slack off. You’d think they’d leave the assistant directorship to those who actually work for it.” Evelyn's gaze shifted to Mary Whitaker, her rival, who was sauntering over with an air of superiority. Evelyn was a junior at Brighton University, often blending into the background rather than assuming the spotlight. If there was one notable thing she’d done since entering the program, it was the decision to dabble in directing classes during her sophomore year. “Dabbling” might be generous; it was mostly attending when she had the chance, filling spare hours with lectures and workshops. Surprisingly, her casual interest turned serious when a grad student announced she was forming a crew for a low-budget campus project. Evelyn approached her directly, eager to assist in any capacity, even if it meant forgoing pay, as long as she received a credit for her efforts. That conversation landed her in a director’s assistant role, but it was clear she would have to prove herself, especially once Mary swooped in. Their mentor had decided to bring in Mary as another temporary assistant director, leaving them to compete for the recognition they both sought. The usual convention in film crews allowed for multiple assistants, but the upperclassman wanted to challenge both women to improve their performances. When Evelyn had heard about the arrangement, she had simply nodded, accepting the situation with surprising grace. In the wake of that development, Evelyn leaned into her unassuming nature, rarely feuding with anyone or making waves. This only encouraged Mary, who took every opportunity to needle her, often acting dismissively, especially when she caught Evelyn chatting with William. Now, faced with Mary’s barb, Evelyn held back a surprised laugh. “Me, slacking off? Really?” William stepped in, his brows furrowed. “Evelyn has been the one running around, helping everyone get set. Saying that is a bit much, don’t you think?” Mary’s expression shifted, revealing her irritation. “I didn’t ask her to be my babysitter. I’m here because Isabella Fletcher asked for me, not because I have time to waste.” Isabella, the director in charge of the current project, had requested Evelyn to assist her earlier, and she didn’t hesitate to hurry over to The Royal Stage at the mention of her name. As she passed Mary, the tension hung thick in the air. Mary rolled her eyes dramatically and muttered, “Country bumpkin,” loud enough for Evelyn to catch it. Evelyn ignored her, pushing past without acknowledging the swipe, intent on getting to her task, determination fueling her steps.
Chapter 2
William glanced back at the retreating figure of the girl, a mix of disdain curling his lip, before shifting his gaze to Liam. “You like that country girl,” he taunted, a sharp edge to his tone. “Are you out of your mind?” Liam shot back, shaking his head. “Come on, if you didn’t like her, why do you keep hanging around her? I mean, just look at her! The way she dresses and her whole vibe—doesn’t that repulse you?” William’s voice rose with mockery. “But let’s be real; she probably wouldn’t even give you a second glance. I heard she’s trying to break into the industry because her mom wants her to claw her way into high society. Aiming for stardom and maybe even a rich husband. You? You're just a broke student with a pretty face. You really think you stand a chance?” The contempt in William's voice made sure everyone heard. Even Evelyn, lingering nearby, paused momentarily, her expression frozen in surprise. Fortunately, she brushed it off as she arrived at The Royal Stage, where Natalie stood glued to the monitor, checking her phone. A few crew members huddled nearby, their focus on the screen, their murmurs buzzing with thrill. “Hey, Natalie, you wanted to see me?” Evelyn asked, trying to break through their concentration. She wasn’t sure if her voice was too quiet or if they were just too engrossed, as they didn’t react at first. Instead, she caught snippets of excited chatter among them. “Hey, he won! Thomas won an award!” “Shh, we need to hear his acceptance speech.” “What could he say? He’s been thanking everyone since he started acting at eighteen. Probably will just fawn over his sister again.” “Quiet! Thomas is about to speak!” The atmosphere shifted immediately, hanging in anticipation. Natalie turned the sound of her phone up, and Thomas’s warm, magnetic voice broke through the chatter: “……………… I want to take a moment to talk about my sister. She’s a junior now, just one year away from joining me. Like me, she dreams of being an actress, and I hope one day she’ll stand where I am today.” He paused, his captivating eyes seeming to pierce through the screen, as if he were looking directly at someone— “Evelyn, hurry up and grow up. Your brother’s been waiting for you.” After the heartfelt message, a roar of excitement flooded the room, punctuated by a few thrilled shouts from those surrounding Natalie. While everyone was riding high on the moment, one of them suddenly glanced at Evelyn. “Hey, Evelyn! Isn’t it funny that Thomas’s sister shares your name? What if he’s talking about you?” she joked, laughter in her voice. Everyone else chuckled, but Evelyn felt her spine stiffen at the comment. Just as she was about to laugh it off, William’s derisive voice echoed from behind her. “Come on, let’s not kid around. Thomas is this fabulous, rich guy. How could he possibly have a country bumpkin for a sister? Here, slaving away on set? Don’t drag his status down.” Evelyn let out a quiet breath of relief, forcing a smile and saying, “Right? I mean, how could I be his sister? That’s just silly!” Natalie looked up, a serious expression sweeping across her face. “Do you have any tasks left?” “Not right now,” Evelyn replied. “I’ve got to rehearse lines with the actors soon, though.” Natalie nodded, considering for a moment. “Why don’t you run to the store and grab some snacks? Everyone just wrapped up filming, and they’re pretty tired and thirsty. Get some ice cream and drinks. Oh, and pick up a lighter; we’ll need it for props.” “Got it,” Evelyn said, already turning to leave. “Is that everything, Natalie?” “For now. Just get going.” She headed out silently, slipping away from the bustling set while William rolled his eyes as she walked out of sight. In the city, Silverkeep had a small convenience store, stocked surprisingly well—everything from budget items to premium brands. The ice cream section brimming with options, Evelyn didn’t hesitate to scoop up twenty bars from the mid-range freezer, calculating the numbers in her head. At the checkout, she grabbed a lighter from the shelf, her total coming to one hundred and five dollars. As she stepped outside, a sudden bump jolted her, causing her to tumble right into a puddle. Her glasses flew off, shattering on the pavement. “Whoa, I’m so sorry!” the hurried stranger exclaimed, quickly offering a hand to help her up. “Are you alright?” they asked, anxiety etched across their face. “I’m fine, just… take off. I’ll manage.” She brushed off the dirt, waving them away, her voice steady despite the annoyance brewing inside her. “Thanks!” The stranger hurried off, grateful for Evelyn's understanding. Left alone, Evelyn looked down and sighed. Besides the broken glasses, her jeans were now a mess, drenched and stained with splotches of mud. The sensation of the wet fabric sticking to her legs was unbearable. Not that she was a total neat freak, but this was a level of gross she hadn’t signed up for. Resigned, she turned and headed back into the store. “Excuse me, can I borrow your restroom?” she asked the cashier. ... Once inside, she swiftly peeled off her soiled jeans, revealing her slim legs, now free from the clinging mess.
Chapter 3
Evelyn Hawkins looked in the mirror, her oversized T-shirt hanging loosely over her frame, its length saving her from any embarrassing reveals. The heavyweight clinging of yesterday felt like a distant memory. Without her glasses, the awkwardness that usually shadowed her features had dissipated, replaced by a hint of casual elegance. She let out a resigned sigh, pulled a hair tie from her pocket, and methodically gathered her long hair into a messy bun at the top of her head. The transformation was striking; the woman staring back was nearly unrecognizable—save for that baggy T-shirt. But instead of frumpy, it now exuded a certain effortless chic. Glancing at the clock, she calculated the distance to The King's Manor, the upscale venue that had somehow become her second home. With a determined nod, she decided a quick wardrobe change was in order before heading there for the evening. ………… William Lovell was jolted awake by the relentless buzzing of his phone. He lay sprawled in a corner of Silverkeep, the makeshift lounge chair beneath him doing little to ease the fatigue that had settled in his bones. Dressed entirely in black, his limbs were carelessly draped across a plastic stool, while his messy hair fell over his eyes, casting a shadow across his sharp features. After a dozen vibrations, annoyance finally penetrated his sleep. He groaned as he fished the phone from his pocket, squinting at the screen. “Stop,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “Dude, you really went to keep an eye on Silverkeep for Alexander Sullivan?” Thomas Carter’s voice crackled through the line, laughter lacing his tone. “Yeah, what’s it to you?” William snapped, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Their friendship tossed aside any offense Thomas might have taken, and he continued, “I’m just worried about you, man! Those actresses over there? One is prettier than the next.” William, finally awake and less irritable, raised an eyebrow. “Pretty? More like they’re caked in makeup.” “Come on! You’re being too harsh. I heard Lucy Lawrence is filming there. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice her. She’s a looker!” As Thomas rambled on, William’s attention drifted. He reached for a nearby pack of cigarettes, but his lighter was nowhere in sight. Instead, he caught sight of a girl just a few feet away. Sunlight glinted off her bare legs, and her hair was casually piled in a bun on top of her head, exposing her flawless forehead and rosy cheeks. A popsicle dangled from her hand, and as she took a bite, a smudge of cream clung to her lips, giving her an almost innocent charm. He watched, caught in the moment, until Thomas’s voice broke through again. “—Whatever, you’re a hopeless case. You’ll stay a love-struck aristocrat until you stumble across the one. You know, the girl with the perfect nose, legs, and everything.” Rolling his eyes, William snaked a leg onto a nearby table, blocking her path with ease. Caught off guard, she halted, surprise flickering in her eyes as they locked onto his. He smirked, the cocky edge betraying his laid-back demeanor. “Hey, mind sparking me up?” he drawled, voice dripping with casual confidence.
Chapter 4
Evelyn Hawkins was munching on her ice cream, lost in thought, when she was suddenly interrupted, startling her. Glancing down at the long leg that blocked her path, she felt a little nervous. "Can I help you?" she murmured. Edward Turner looked at her lazily, his fingers twitching with a cigarette poised between them. “Got a light?” Evelyn felt a strange mix of confusion and apprehension. The man exuded a strong presence, and his demeanor made her picture a rough-and-tumble guy from the wrong side of the tracks. She instinctively took a step back, her voice barely above a whisper, “Sorry, I don’t smoke.” Edward didn’t respond, only glanced down, his attention drifting over the clear plastic bag she held. In a flash, she recalled the lighter she had just bought from Merchant’s Hall and felt a rush of embarrassment. Trying to slip past him, she realized the door had been locked. Panic flared in her chest. It seemed like he wouldn’t let her go until he got what he wanted. Resigned, she pulled the lighter from her bag and handed it over. He accepted it without hesitation, his fingers brushing against hers, sending an inexplicable shiver through her. She quickly pulled her hand back, feeling a bit rattled. Without a word, Edward tilted his head, sticking the cigarette between his lips and lighting it with the very lighter she had just given him. Evelyn relaxed slightly, thinking that this would be the end of it. But to her surprise, he held onto the lighter, leaving his leg firmly in place. Silently, she stood there, feeling the weight of his gaze and stealing glances at him. He was undeniably attractive, in a way that was almost too striking to be real. Defined cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and a straight nose graced his face, while his tightly clenched jaw and the curve of his prominent Adam’s apple lent him an air of ruggedness. Despite his refined features, there was a hint of menace about him. She couldn’t help but picture him as a fighter, effortlessly taking on multiple opponents. As the smoke from his cigarette curled around them, Edward finally noticed her again. He flicked ash into the air, studying her with that same lazy intensity. “You in high school?” Evelyn felt a rush of irritation at the assumption, but looking at his unmoving leg, she hesitated. “I’m a junior,” she replied slowly. His expression barely changed, as if he found her answer utterly unremarkable. As her cheeks flushed with frustration, she bit her lip, summoning the courage to speak. “Um—” He narrowed his eyes slightly, sending her a questioning look. “…Never mind.” Feeling defeated, she averted her gaze, a mix of anger and embarrassment washing over her. It seemed to amuse Edward. After what felt like an eternity, he finally moved his leg, casually tossing her the lighter. It soared through the air, and she was caught off guard, barely managing to catch it just in time before it dropped. Breathing a sigh of relief, she quickly stepped away, eager to escape the tension that hung between them. Edward, smoke trailing from his lips, watched her leave with a knowing smirk—clearly amused by how easily she had caved. — Evelyn stayed off-campus at Brighton University, opting for a rented apartment that gave her the independence to come and go as she pleased. So when she arrived in Silverkeep, it was no surprise that her senior had informed her that there wasn’t any budget for accommodating her. She’d simply shrugged it off; it seemed perfect for her. After checking into The King's Manor, she unpacked her spare pair of glasses and a change of clothes. Once dressed, she let her thick bangs fall into place, smoothing them out before heading out. As she entered the hotel lobby, the two receptionists paused mid-conversation, eyes widening as she passed. “I swear, she left with the whole group this morning. Did you see when she got back?” one asked, perplexed. “No idea. But did you see that tall beauty who just walked in?” “Couldn’t be her, right? No way she’s back already.” “Maybe she slipped in through a side door?” Evelyn was oblivious to their chatter, too focused on getting back to The Royal Stage. Her bag of ice cream had melted a bit by the time she returned to her room, and wary of Isabella Fletcher’s potential judgment, she stashed it into the mini-fridge along with the bag. Once settled back at Silverkeep, she bought another treat to take to the set. When she returned, the crew had already resumed filming, the air buzzing with activity. There was no opportunity to share her ice cream just yet. Not long after, the scene wrapped up, and the energetic bustle returned. Holding her ice cream, Evelyn navigated through the crowd, determined to spread the sweetness around.
Chapter 5
Most people were polite to her, smiling and saying thank you when they received their ice cream. Maybe it was the successful scene they had just wrapped, but Isabella Fletcher seemed in a good mood and didn’t press Evelyn Hawkins about her tardiness. Mary Whitaker, however, had to throw in a couple of snarky remarks on the side, but Evelyn brushed them off. Later, just before dinner when the sun dipped below the horizon, Isabella called out to Evelyn. Stretching her neck in an attempt to relieve some tension, she pointed toward the set. “You can return that prop we borrowed from the neighboring crew and see if you can grab a whiteboard while you’re at it.” Evelyn didn’t argue; she walked straight over to pick up the prop just as she felt something was off. “Isabella, this prop seems a bit damaged…” Damaged was an understatement—the surface had clear cracks that indicated it had been dropped or mishandled. Isabella barely flinched at her words, exhaustion etched on her face. “If it’s damaged, just handle it. When you return it, don’t make a fuss. Do I really need to teach you that?” Evelyn frowned at her response, but she knew there was no point in arguing back. She turned away and headed towards the neighboring set, where she’d gotten friendly with two of the junior script supervisors. When she approached, they greeted her with nods and continued chatting away. “Hey, did you hear? Those loan sharks came looking for that security guy again this afternoon.” “No doubt about it! I saw it with my own eyes. Ugh, those guys looked scary. It’s the first time I’ve seen loan sharks in real life—it was honestly chilling.” “That’s too bad. That guy is the hottest security guard at Silverkeep. I mean, he could totally model. I just can’t believe he’s in debt…” As Evelyn walked further in, their voices faded behind her. For some reason, the mention of the “hottest security guard” triggered an unwelcome memory of the guy from earlier who had stopped her. But it was just a fleeting thought, one she promptly dispelled. Whatever else was happening, she didn’t need to get wrapped up in it. The prop master from the other crew was a gruff yet soft-hearted guy. When she conveyed the issue to him, she braced for a good rant. As expected, he shouted at her, but after venting, he glanced at Evelyn's downcast expression and softened a bit. “Fine. We probably won’t need this prop again. As for any compensation, forget it. I’ll find you an old whiteboard to borrow. Can’t risk borrowing something new again.” “Thank you, that would be great!” Evelyn said, relief washing over her. He shook his head as he studied her. “I don’t get it. Why are you so hell-bent on getting that second director credit? Your crew… it’s not that I look down on you, but it’s not exactly prestigious work. You’re just playing around, not really working on anything significant.” Evelyn offered an awkward smile. She understood what he meant, but the small crew Isabella led, despite working on what the industry scorned as just another web movie, had secured a distribution deal. Once it streamed, regardless of how the final product turned out, it would get attention – a real piece of work to her name. Newcomers in the industry had two key stepping stones: an Ivy League background and recognizable credits. A credit meant you were involved in creating something, no matter your skill level, it at least showed you had experience, giving you an edge over the competition. As for the rest… she and Isabella had fundamentally rewritten the script together, honing her ideas into the framework of the story. So, calling this web movie a product of her efforts was fair enough. She’d researched the market extensively and felt confident in her work. In her mind, once the film hit the platform, it would make a statement. So, from every perspective, she was determined to stick with it until she had that second director credit in hand. It was hers to claim and essential for her future. — By the time she returned with Isabella’s whiteboard, dinner was already on. Evelyn had missed the meal, the last box of food snatched up just before she got there. Not a big deal; she turned to find something to eat outside. It was peak dinner hour, and every little restaurant around Silverkeep was packed. After a couple of failed attempts, she finally drifted into a quieter noodle shop tucked away in a corner. Evelyn wasn’t much of a noodle lover, but this was getting desperate. Just as she stepped inside half-heartedly, she spotted him—the same guy from this morning, the one who’d asked her for a lighter. True to her earlier impression, he had swapped his black clothes for a security uniform. The pale blue shirt hung loosely on his frame, the collar open and revealing a slice of skin just below his neck, capped off by a hint of a collarbone—both illuminated by the dim light of the restaurant. He lounged in his chair, an arm dangling over the back of the adjacent seat while he flicked ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray. His expression was calm, almost indifferent, as the person across from him rambled on. He hardly seemed engaged, his lips pressed together in silence. A sliver of doubt crept in as Evelyn considered turning tail and leaving. But the owner of the noodle shop suddenly spotted her and rushed over. “Come in, come in, sweetheart! Grab a bowl of noodles! We’ve got all kinds—guaranteed to hit the spot!” Evelyn’s gaze darted subconsciously towards the man, and to her surprise, their eyes locked for a brief moment, igniting an unexpected flutter in her chest.
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