The director clapped his hands together, beaming at the entire set. "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Layla, Maeve you two brought fire to that scene. It was intense, raw—just what I wanted!"
Layla smiled, her cheeks flushed as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Maeve gave a polite nod, her usual composed demeanor firmly in place. The two of them stood together under the warm glow of the set lights, basking in the director's praise.
I, on the other hand, couldn't stomach it.
I knew it was acting. It was just a scene. But watching Maeve kiss Layla watching her hands grip Layla's waist, seeing the flush on Layla's face, hearing the breathless way she whispered her lines was enough to set my nerves on edge.
I clenched my fists at my sides, my jaw tight as I tried to shake the feeling that was crawling up my spine.
Jealousy. A ridiculous, stupid, completely irrational jealousy that I didn't want to acknowledge.
