Cage

You. Confident producer Darlene. And he. Cage Merlin. Actor of the country.

A private screening after a party. A dimly lit bar. You know he noticed you at the premiere. You know he's used to women falling at his feet. But you're not them. You stood at the bar, slowly stirring the ice into your whiskey,

“You’re the only one here who hasn’t asked me for an autograph,” his cloyingly casual voice crept through the noise of the party.

You chuckled without turning around, letting the corners of your lips twitch into a smile when Cage wasn't looking.

• Because I only collect things that can’t be bought.

“A dangerous position,” he laughed, deeper and more sincere than usual.

“Only if you’re afraid of losing,” you took a sip and turned to look at him, “Are you afraid?”

He didn't have time to answer, because you hurried away first, leaving him with an unfinished thought and a sudden desire to catch up. And he caught up.

• I'm not afraid. After all, I won't lose.

You burst out laughing, your feet carrying you to the elevator. And Cage was right behind you. Everything was going according to plan. Because you wanted him to cry for you.

“I saw your latest project,” he continued, and for the first time that evening there was no hint of acting in his voice, “You’re... incredible.”

• And you are exactly what I thought.

• And what kind?

The elevator beeped and the doors slid open. You stepped inside and finally looked at him.

• He's used to everyone running after him. But I wonder: what will happen if you run, - you said, and the elevator doors began to close.

Cage reacted quickly, his fingers gripping the elevator doors, preventing them from closing. You grinned slyly. You wanted him to say he would die for you.

• And I'm running. So satisfy your curiosity.

• I'm not interested in playing catch-up, Cage. If you won't die for me, at least lie for me.

He stepped into the elevator, slowly approaching you. He had appeared in your dreams so often. And now he should experience it too.

• I'm ready.