The Crush List

Chapter Eighteen – Afternoon Make-out & Romance

The days slipped into a quiet rhythm, the kind Emery hadn’t expected but found herself falling into with ease. Cal was on set most mornings before the sun rose, gone with a kiss to her shoulder and a whisper that still made her stomach flutter.

Filming had officially begun.

With Cal immersed in his work, Emery had more time to herself than she’d had in weeks. And instead of letting the silence swallow her whole, she chose to fill it—slowly, intentionally.

She visited a local boutique in the charming little town near their rental. The woman who ran it helped her find a few new outfits—relaxed but polished. Pieces that felt like her, not like the girl everyone on the internet wanted her to be. Emery even let herself be talked into trying a new haircut, soft layers that framed her face and curled slightly at her collarbones. It made her feel lighter. Freer.

The afternoons were hers to explore. Sometimes she tucked herself into the corner of a café with a sketchpad or her laptop. Other days, she wandered the cobbled streets with a camera in hand, capturing snapshots of ivy-covered walls, flower markets, and the quiet hum of everyday life.

Her phone buzzed frequently with messages from Lianne, often filled with wild memes, check-ins, or completely unnecessary fashion advice that made her laugh. Once or twice, even Jace had texted her—a simple “hope you’re doing okay” that she politely answered, but didn’t dwell on.

And through it all, Cal kept showing up for her.

Every evening when he came home—sometimes drained, sometimes glowing with creative energy—he pulled her close, asked about her day, kissed her hair and made her feel like she wasn’t just waiting on the sidelines of his world... but part of it.

Emery had never known what it meant to feel grounded until now. And the more time she spent rediscovering who she was on her own, the more she realized just how much she wanted to share that version of herself—with him.

The midday sun cast a warm, golden hue over the filming lot as Emery stepped out of the car. She hugged her denim jacket tighter around her as she wandered past towering sets and crew bustling between takes, holding clipboards and coffee cups. Despite the organized chaos, everything felt oddly quiet compared to the hum inside her chest.

Cal had texted her that morning with a simple:

“Come by around lunch. I miss you. Trailer’s ours.”

It still amazed her how he could send her stomach fluttering with just a few words.

A production assistant kindly guided her to his trailer, flashing her a knowing grin before disappearing around the corner. Emery’s heart raced as she knocked gently.

The door swung open almost immediately.

“There’s my favorite view,” Cal said, his voice warm and low, pulling her inside before she could speak.

His arms circled her waist as he backed her up gently against the closed door, kissing her slowly—like he had all the time in the world. Her fingers curled in the collar of his jacket, clinging to the comfort of him.

“You’re working,” she murmured between kisses, though her voice held little resistance.

“I’m on break,” he murmured back, brushing his nose against hers. “And I needed to see you.”

The trailer was quiet, cozy—small couch, little table, a few of his things scattered about. But right now, it felt like their own private bubble. Cal led her to the couch and they sank into it together, limbs tangled, the outside world dissolving as his hand found hers.

“I watched you walk across the lot and swear to God, Em,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, “I forgot my next line.”

She laughed softly, laying her head against his chest. “That doesn’t bode well for your career.”

“I’ll retire if I get to keep this,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple.

They didn’t do anything scandalous. Not this time. Just held each other. Kissed. Talked about nothing and everything. He made her promise to come again soon, to stay longer next time. And when he walked her back to the car, his fingers lingering at the small of her back, Emery felt like the luckiest woman on earth.

Whatever this was—they were building it. Quietly. Carefully. And completely theirs.

Emery curled up on the soft couch in Cal’s trailer, her bare feet tucked beneath her. The air still held the faint trace of his cologne, and every so often, she found herself glancing at the door like he might walk in again just to kiss her forehead or flash that crooked grin that made her forget to breathe.

It felt surreal sometimes—this life they were building, quietly, in the corners between press chaos and packed filming schedules.

She’d never pictured herself in a place like this, and yet, nothing had ever felt more right.

Outside, the noise of the set rose and fell—voices calling out commands, the occasional clang of equipment being wheeled into place, laughter echoing through the lot. She imagined Cal, out there under hot lights and thick makeup, slipping into the skin of someone else for the camera. He made it look effortless, but she knew it took a toll. He carried the weight of every scene on his shoulders, and still, he found room to make her feel like the most important part of his world.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Lianne.

Lianne:

So, has the movie trailer turned into the official make-out spot yet, or do I need to book it for later use? 😏

Emery rolled her eyes and smiled.

Emery:

You’re the worst. And no, we’re just being... quiet. It’s nice.

She put her phone down and leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment.

When the trailer door finally opened near sunset, Emery sat up to see Cal step inside, a bit of stage dust on his sleeves and exhaustion in his eyes. But the moment he looked at her, it was like the weight of the day lifted.

“All done?” she asked softly.

He nodded. “Yeah. You ready to go home?”

She stood and crossed the space to him, smoothing a wrinkle from his shirt. “Only if we’re stopping for takeout on the way. I’m starving.”

He chuckled, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Done.”

As they stepped out into the cooling evening together, Emery slid her hand into his. And despite the cameras, the chaos, and the unknown ahead, she felt something warm settle in her chest.

She was exactly where she wanted to be.

They stopped for takeout on the way home, just like they promised—burgers, fries, and two milkshakes from a little roadside diner Cal remembered from his early filming days. Emery loved how his face lit up with small, nostalgic moments. He was always so grounded in his memories.

The plan had been to head home right after, but Cal got a call just as they were about to leave. A friend of his—an indie director he'd worked with once—was hosting a private rooftop event downtown. It would be low-key, he said. Quiet. No press, just creatives.

Emery didn’t hesitate. She trusted him.

But quiet was a lie.

The rooftop was brimming with stylists, influencers, film types, and a few high-profile names she recognized immediately. She tried to pretend it didn’t faze her, clinging to Cal’s arm as they were ushered through the crowd. He greeted a few familiar faces, always introducing her with a gentle hand at her back or a warm “this is Emery.”

Still, she felt it.

The whispers. The not-so-subtle glances from women who clearly remembered Cal when he wasn’t anyone’s boyfriend. The measured smiles from people who’d read Vivienne’s interview. One woman—poised and plastic in a glittering silver dress—let her eyes rake down Emery’s frame before leaning in too close to Cal with a pointed “I didn’t know you were babysitting these days.”

Cal’s jaw clenched, and he didn’t laugh. “She’s with me. Watch your tone.”

The woman blinked, thrown off, and with a tight smile, melted back into the crowd.

Emery hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until Cal took her hand and led her toward the balcony. “You okay?” he asked, thumb brushing her knuckles.

She gave him a small smile. “Yeah. Just… wow.”

“It won’t always be easy,” he said, “but I’ll never let anyone make you feel less than you are.”

And somehow, standing under the Los Angeles skyline with the city humming below them and Cal’s hand anchored in hers, Emery believed him.

Even if the world tried to shake them, she was starting to trust that together, they wouldn’t fall.