Page 27 of Love in Focus

“Yeah,” I say. “It made me think of us, too.”

I’d only meant to engage in friendly conversation, but it’s like there’s no middle ground between Celeste and me. One moment, there’s a big wall between us, and the next, my heart’s racing and about to burst.

Celeste takes a step toward me, before clearing her throat and turning away. “So, I’ll see you at the next shoot?”

“Actually,” I say. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet up sometime this weekend. With how important this project is, I could use your input as I work on the write-up. For this first one, at least. Just to make sure we’re on the same page about everything. And there’s a couple other things I want to talk about, too. Stuff related to work, of course.”

Celeste cocks her head to the side. A faint smile plays on her lips as she replies, “As long as it’s not anywhere that has alcohol.”

“Yeah no, of course,” I quickly say. “Let’s go somewhere that’s the complete opposite of a bar. Like a coffeehouse.”

“Sounds good. I’m free on Sunday.”

Celeste doesn’t let herself relax until her ex leaves the studio. Gemma’s honey-brown eyes, her flushed cheeks… it took all of Celeste’s self-control to not close the distance between them, to not gently cup Gemma’s adorably sweet face with her hands and kiss her soft pink lips.

Last Friday could have been a fluke. They both drank a lot, and Gemma especially had been drunk out of her mind. But today, they were completely sober. And Gemma had still looked at her like she wanted to devour her.

And Celeste has no idea what to do with that information.

Gemma is still physically attracted to her. So what? Gemma couldn’t keep her hands off Celeste eight years ago, either, but she still started dating someone else a few months after Celeste left the country. And then moved in with him, just like that.

She’d consider asking Gemma to be friends with benefits, but they weren’t evenfriendsanymore. Not really. And Gemma doesn’t do casual. Or at least, she didn’t when Celeste knew her eight years ago.

Last week, when she’d finally told him about everything that’d been going on, Min-joon had asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

And at the time, she’d shrugged and said yes. When she agreed to stay on the project, even if that meant she had to work with her ex, it hadn’t seemed like that big a deal. Eight years was a long time. And since Gemma had clearly moved on from her, Celeste thought she could keep things professional and treat this like any of her other projects.

But now… the lines are torturously blurry. And today’s interviews were only the first set of three that Celeste has to work on with Gemma. Somehow, they have to get through two more sessions—and whatever communication and meetups needed in between—before mid-January, when she’ll be free to go back to LA and resume her far less confusing life without her ex.

Before she leaves the studio, Celeste pops into the restroom upstairs to wash her face with ice-cold water. In the mirror, she looks pale, almost like a vampire with her bloodred lips and dark circles. She’d done her best to cover up her exhaustion with makeup, but now, at the end of the day, her face looks haggard, and there’s visible stress wrinkles around her eyes. She hadn’t been able to get much sleep ever since she first ran into Gemma at the bar, back when she was with Gretchen.

Celeste gets out her phone and goes to the conversation she has with her most recent ex, where the last sent text was Gretchen inviting her out for “the best pumpkin spice cocktails in the city.” Celeste had eagerly thumbs-upped the message, since she loves seasonal drinks of any kind. And without much thought, she’d naively gone to the address the other woman had shared, excited to have a good time.

If she’d known it’d be an ambush where Gretchen would accuse her of leading her on, even though Celeste very clearly told her from the very beginning she only does casual, she never would have gone. Especially not if she’d known she’d run into her college ex.

As her thoughts wander back to Gemma, Celeste pauses. Does she really regret running into Gemma, though? Sure, it’s been a hell of a lot awkward to see her again, but when she really thinks about it, it’s also been kind of nice. Although it was fucking painful when they were doing it, now that they’ve talked about the past and apologized to each other, she’s been feeling substantially lighter.

But still, Celeste reminds herself, that doesn’t mean she should fully let her guard down.

She taps her phone screen and deletes the conversation she had with Gretchen. That’s the problem with friends with benefits. A lot of times, people catch feelings, whether they want to or not.

Ispend most of Saturday visiting apartments and shared houses, but almost all of them are either out of my budget (with all the hidden fees included), a public health concern, or have roommates or neighbors that I’m not too sure about.

By the time I return to my friends’ apartment at the end of the day, I’m exhausted.

Maybe I should keep living with Val and Kiara, I think.

Val had mentioned the other night the real possibility of us all getting a bigger apartment together when their lease ends in the spring, so I could have my own room and Val and Kiara could have theirs. After today, it sounds like the dream, but I also don’t want to push it. My friends—and Burrito—love their current apartment. They’ve been here for the last several years. I don’t want them to change where they live because of me.

That evening, I’m sitting side by side on Clementine with Val, going through emails and drafting some write-ups while she playsElden Ring. Luckily, I’m good at blocking out background noise as I work, or else I wouldn’t be able to get anything done amid the deafening music, screams, and crashing sounds coming from the TV.

Kiara’s out having dinner with some of her other friends, so it’s just Val and me tonight. Rather than cook for only the two of us, we decided to share a box of pepperoni pizza.

Burrito’s nowhere in sight. After stealing a few pieces of crust, he sped into my friends’ room, probably hiding underneath the bed from all the loud noises.

I’m about to shut my laptop and call it a night, when I get an email from Celeste. Or at least, what I think still counts as an email. There’s no subject, nor a message in the body. The only thing she’s included are the files for the video recordings from Friday.

“What did youdo?” Val asks as she peers at my computer screen.

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