The costume trailer smelled like fabric glue, old perfume, and fresh plastic.
I set the crate down beside a rack of neatly bagged suits and dresses, then stepped back to brush hair off my forehead.
I turned — and there he was again, leaning in the doorway like some laid-back vampire who'd never been told no.
"Shouldn't you be memorizing lines or something?" I asked.
Tom shrugged. "I've got them down. Besides… this is more interesting."
I didn't answer. Just started unpacking wardrobe tags from the crate.
He didn't move.
I could feel him watching me.
"You know," he said after a beat, "you're the only person here who doesn't care that I'm Tom Kang."
"That's because I didn't know who you were."
"Now you do."
"Still don't care."
He laughed again. Softly this time.
A knock on the trailer door broke the silence.
It was one of the assistant coordinators — a petite woman in a headset who looked two seconds from total burnout.
"Hey—uh, Elena, right? We're short on background actors for this next scene. Can you sit in for a walk-by shot?"
"What?"
"It's literally just walking across the quad. No lines. You won't even be visible. Just need to fill space behind the main cast."
I opened my mouth to say no, but she was already pressing a name badge into my hand and waving me toward the exit.
"Costume's fine, no need to change. Just stand near that girl over there—yes, her, with the denim jacket—and follow her lead."
I turned to glare at Tom.
He put his hands up. "Wasn't me this time."
---
Ten minutes later, I was standing beside a fake hot dog stand on the quad lawn while a guy with a megaphone barked instructions to the actors.
Tom stood front and center, running lines with another guy I didn't recognize. Cameras, booms, lighting rigs — the works. Half the school was watching from behind a rope line, whispering and filming.
I just wanted to disappear.
The director clapped. "Alright, people! Let's run Scene 32. First mark to second mark, medium dolly. Background move on cue."
"Sound ready?"
"Ready!"
"Slate!"
A clapper snapped.
"Action!"
Tom turned on his actor face.
Gone was the smug, teasing man from the trailer. In his place: Han Seungwoo, college senior, troubled artist, brooding rebel. He said something dramatic to the other actor, shoved his hands in his pockets, and began striding across the quad—
Right past me.
His shoulder brushed mine.
On purpose.
And without breaking character, he said quietly, "Still don't care, huh?"
Then kept walking like nothing happened.
My spine locked. The director shouted "Cut!" but my ears were ringing.
The extras began to shuffle, resetting positions.
I didn't move.
"Hey." The girl next to me nudged my arm. "Do you know him?"
"No."
"You looked like you knew him."
"I said I don't."
She blinked, then shrugged.
But I felt it.
Eyes.
Someone else had noticed.
And Tom — the smug bastard — was already walking back to first mark, tossing a wink over his shoulder.
---