Live on Air

The studio lights were blinding, hot enough that I could feel the sweat gathering at my collar. The buzzing energy of the production crew surrounded me—cameras rolling, producers whispering into headsets, a countdown flashing on a teleprompter. And across from me, seated in an identical sleek leather chair, was Julian Chase.

His posture was relaxed, at least on the surface. One arm draped casually over the chair’s armrest, legs crossed, a charming half-smile teasing the corner of his lips. But I knew better. The slight twitch of his fingers against the upholstery, the way his gaze kept darting toward me when he thought I wasn’t looking—he was just as tense as I was.

We weren’t here by choice.

The interview had been hastily arranged by the studio, a desperate attempt to control the media storm after our chemistry—or, more accurately, our not-so-scripted kiss—had set social media ablaze. The world was talking about Ethan Blake and Julian Chase, and not just about our performances. Every entertainment site was dissecting our interactions, questioning whether the animosity was real or a front for something else.

The host, a polished woman in a sharp navy suit, smiled brightly at the camera as the final seconds of the countdown blinked away.

“Welcome back to The Hollywood Hour!” she said, her voice smooth and rehearsed. “We have two very special guests with us today—Ethan Blake and Julian Chase, the leading men of Shadows & Starlight, the highly anticipated LGBTQ+ drama hitting theaters this summer. Gentlemen, welcome!”

Julian flashed his signature smirk. “Thanks for having us.”

I followed suit with a polite nod, keeping my smile measured. The less I gave away, the better.

The host turned to me first. “Ethan, let’s start with you. Your role in Shadows & Starlight is your first major step outside of action thrillers. What drew you to this project?”

I was grateful for an easy question, one I’d rehearsed the answer to. “I’ve always wanted to challenge myself as an actor,” I said smoothly. “This role was an opportunity to explore something more emotionally complex, and the script was just… incredible.”

“Not to mention,” Julian added with mock innocence, “he gets to act alongside me. That had to be part of the appeal.”

A low chuckle rippled through the audience. I shot him a sideways look, but his expression remained unreadable.

The host laughed. “Speaking of your dynamic, fans have noticed that you two have… let’s say, a spirited relationship off-screen. There’s been talk about your long-running rivalry. So, tell me, did that make working together difficult?”

Julian leaned forward, his smile never wavering. “You know, I think people love a good rivalry story. It keeps things interesting.”

I forced a chuckle. “And you love interesting, don’t you, Julian?”

His gaze flicked toward me, something unreadable passing through his eyes before he turned back to the host.

She pressed on. “But let’s address the elephant in the room—the kiss.”

There it was.

The audience murmured with anticipation. I felt my muscles tense, but Julian only raised an eyebrow as if he were amused.

She continued, her tone conspiratorial. “Fans have been going wild dissecting that scene. The intensity, the way it felt so… raw and real. Some are even wondering—was it entirely scripted?”

I opened my mouth, ready to deliver the PR-approved response, but Julian beat me to it.

“Well,” he drawled, “great acting should feel real, shouldn’t it?”

The host leaned in, intrigued. “So you’re saying it was just acting?”

Julian’s smirk deepened. “I’m saying Ethan and I have undeniable chemistry. And the best way to sell a romance on-screen is to make sure there’s something behind it, don’t you think?”

I stiffened.

The words were deliberately ambiguous, feeding the frenzy instead of quieting it. The audience lapped it up, murmuring excitedly. The host’s eyes gleamed with interest, clearly sensing the tension between us.

I forced a chuckle, though my jaw was tight. “Julian has a way of making everything sound scandalous.”

“Oh, come on,” he said smoothly, tilting his head toward me. “You have to admit, that scene was electrifying.”

I held his gaze, the air between us charged. We were playing the game now, caught in this balancing act between truth and performance.

The host tapped her cue cards on the desk. “Well, whatever it was, the fans can’t get enough. The internet is convinced there’s more than just acting going on here.” She grinned. “Any response to the Ethan-Julian shippers out there?”

I exhaled slowly, keeping my tone light. “I think fans will see what they want to see.”

Julian hummed thoughtfully. “Or maybe they’re just perceptive.”

The host clapped her hands together. “Well, I, for one, cannot wait to see your on-screen romance unfold. And I think audiences will be very satisfied.”

The interview wrapped up soon after, the applause masking the undercurrent of tension as Julian and I stood from our seats. The moment we were off-camera, I strode toward the nearest exit, my heart pounding.

Julian followed.

“Ethan—”

I whirled around, my patience finally snapping. “What the hell was that?”

He blinked innocently. “What?”

“You know what. You were feeding the rumors.”

Julian leaned against the hallway wall, arms crossed. “Oh, come on. It’s good PR. Let them talk.”

I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. “Let them talk? Julian, they’re not just talking about the film anymore. They’re talking about us.”

He arched an eyebrow. “And why does that bother you so much?”

I hesitated, my pulse hammering. His gaze was steady, searching.

Because he wasn’t just playing a role.

Because that kiss wasn’t just scripted.

Because some part of me didn’t want to correct the rumors.

I clenched my jaw. “I just don’t want the focus taken away from our work.”

Julian smirked, stepping closer. “Mmm. Right.”

I could feel the warmth of him, too close, too knowing.

Then, just as quickly, he pulled away, giving me one last glance before sauntering down the hall.

“See you at the next press event, Ethan.”

I exhaled shakily, watching him disappear around the corner.

This was dangerous.

And it was only getting started.