A sanguine Pollyanna. Easily excitable. A little childish. But genuine. She wears her heart on her sleeve. She's bright, like the sun. Her rays of sunshine perhaps just bright enough to warm him too. With another month together, he didn't mind the idea of it, masking in the cover of her rays.

But it didn't. He always found it easiest to be around people who were unabashedly themselves. There was an honesty to it that eased him. And though he couldn't identify her sincerity as true before, now it was very clear the kind of person Feather Arias is.

From there, they talked. Or, more accurately, Feather talked. But that suited Matthew just fine. She overflowed with so much conversation, as if this whole time she was bursting damn desperate to break. Normally this much conversation put Matthew on edge. A sensory overload he couldn't cope with.

"Now," She folded her hands under her chin, "your turn." The thought of running down his qualities like she had felt incredibly discomforting. He lacked the ability to be that candid, so instead he opted simply to answer her question. "Sure. We can have lunch together."

"It's nice to meet you, Matty. I'm Feather. My favorite color is blue. I like romcoms but I can't stomach pure romances cause they make me cry. I like the sun, but I feel coziest when it's raining. I don't have any friends, but I'm hoping we can be. Would you like to have lunch with me?"

"How's this," Feather interrupted his thoughts before they had too much time to linger on 𝘩𝘦𝘳. "Let's start over. The last month and a half, it never happened. And you and I have just met right now for the very first time." She cleared her throat.

Matthew took the question at face value. "I've avoided you up until now and I hurt your feelings. None of that is much for easing loneliness." "You're so serious, Matty." Feather giggled. "My name is Matthew." "I'm aware, but that's so loooong." The way she exaggerated the o's recalled a memory.

"I guess maybe I apologize for that too. You're not odd or wrong for not wanting to feel lonely. It's unfortunate I'm such poor company, so it's not likely I can help much with that." Matthew shrugged his shoulder. "Who says you're poor company?" Matthew looked up to spot a smirk on Feather's face.

"Perhaps at some point I got used to feeling that way. Lonely. I'm so used to it, I hardly know what it feels like not to be lonely. Like it's normal, when it's not. I suppose all along I may have been projecting, seeing it as weird your attempts to ease you loneliness, when I was the real odd one."

"I don't exactly get along with many people. I'm not much for conversation. The anger doesn't help. My family's kind of a nightmare. All of that together results in me keeping to myself, masking, presenting as OK. I don't have many people I can drop my guard around, and that can feel pretty lonely."

Feather hadn't meant for her question to be the type that received an answer, but despite that, Matthew answered in kind. "Yeah, I actually do know what that's like." His commiseration caught her off guard, but she didn't respond so he continued on.

"So, no, I'm not a whore. I've just been framed that way. And maybe I should leave well enough alone and stop taking work opposite any guys so I can better outrun my rep. But I don't want that to dictate the work I take or who I want to get close to. Maybe I'm a fool, but don't you ever get lonely?"

"Once you're painted as the girl who will sleep with any guy, taken or not, it's really hard to shake that image. I've worked hard to outrun that undeserved reputation, but that sort of thing sticks to a girl a lot harder than a cheating scandal to a guy." Her words were frank but her tone sullen.

noooo 😭 this is so shit for us story simmers. There's no point in posting story posts with multiple posts if they don't all show collage style at a glance. I hate this so much 😩

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"I'm a sex-crazed, man-stealing, homewrecker. Because as head over heels as I was about Levi Bailey-Moon, and as infatuated as I thought he was with me, he left out something very important. He had a girlfriend."

"You really only get this tiny window to confirm or deny a relationship once that happens. Because if you wait too long, then you lose control of the narrative, and your relationship becomes whatever the media makes out of it. So that's what happened. One day we're possible lovebirds. The next—"

"When it started out, I really did just want to be his friend, but then he wanted more. And then, eventually, I started to want more too. I really fell for him, so much so, I thought after we were done working together, we could really be something. But then the tabloids caught wind of it."

"Wait, that's not—" Matthew began to protest, but Feather stopped him. "It's OK. I don't need an apology. I just want you to understand something about those rumors." "You don't have to." "I don't sleep with all of my co-stars. I may have made out with a few. But I only ever slept with one."

"Is this your way of saying you're sorry?" Feather eyed him as Matthew kicked at the ground, his sneaker plying into the cement as he made a grunting sound that seemed to imply he was confirming her question. "You speak so formally, you know that? All that for such an elaborate non-sorry apology."

"I don't know you well enough to make those sort of accusations. And even if I did know you on that level, it would still be impolite to repeat such vulgarities. Rumors, gossip, they're the lowest level of conversation. We'd all do better to not debase ourselves with it or entertain its spectacle."

"And then I..." He hesitated as he searched for the right words. "You yelled at me." Feather filled in his blank, her voice calm and measured. "Yeah." He conceded. "I guess I did. You didn't deserve that. I was angry at myself, not you, and that stuff I said. I shouldn't have said that."

"The thing is I'm pretty bad, no, terribly actually, at controlling my anger. I had this thing I use to stay, I dunno, normal? But that day, I found out I couldn't depend on that method while I'm here, so I got angry. Really, really, angry. And then you showed up, and I wasn't in a good mood."

"I don't think you're a whore." "What?" "That's not what I meant!" "So...you 𝘥𝘰 think I'm a whore?" "What? No! I—ugh." Forming words continued to be a challenge for Matthew. "I'm going to start over." He let out a breath. "The other day, the things I said, I was out of line."

From the time he'd sat, the seconds stretched on like hours. The silence torturously awkward. Just, apologize, he badgered himself. But he was always so terrible at forming those words. Just say anything, he screamed louder, as he forced the first thing that came to mind out of his mouth.

The hesitancy in her voice gave Matthew pause. He didn't want to invade her space if she didn't actually want him there, but he also couldn't leave things as they were. He sat. He'd say his peace, and if she didn't want him there anymore after that, then he'd go and they'd leave each other alone.

"Do you mind?" Feather looked up at him quizzically, unsure of what exactly he was asking for, until she saw him glancing down at the chair and his food and then back at her one or two more times. "Oh." It finally clicked. "You're....welcome to it, if you want." Her reply hesitant.

With a reason to be in her vicinity secured, Matthew approached the table. Part of him hoped she'd notice him walking toward him, but she seemed determined to be lost in whatever thought she was stuck on. Instead he opted to clear his throat to get her attention. Finally, she looked up at him.

OK, Landgraab, he psyched himself up. It's now or never. He walked over to the food cart and ordered the steak and veggie bowl. He tended to avoid the onsite cart because he found their produce source questionable and their meat quality lacking, but he would stomach it just this once.

He stood frozen for a while, thinking of how best to approach. If he just crept up on her like he had tried to do in the studio, she might just get up and leave. So perhaps what he really needed was a reason to be near her outside of just needing to talk. He took a deep breath.

who can hook me up with a key for this? I want to live my best black girl life in this cozy game 🥹

But today it looked like he wouldn't have to try so hard to track her down. Across the studio lot, just behind the food cart, there she was sitting at a table, enjoying a salad. Maybe enjoying was too strong a word as she seemed lost in thought—finally slowed down enough for him to approach.

He took his time getting changed, after all there was no point in trying to catch up to her at the pace she was going. He figured he'd ask a stage hand or Miriam Voss herself where Feather had gone off to or where she stays when they're not filming so they could talk. Whatever it takes.

He didn't like being ignored, especially when he was intentionally seeking someone out. But it wasn't as if he hadn't been the one ignoring her to start. Oh. So that's how it feels. He let out a long sigh. He'd have to come at this differently. With more care. And perhaps his own brand of earnest.

"I thought I left something of mine back here, but I it doesn't look to be here now." she gave a quick cursory glance over the space. "I'll get out of your way." She brushed past him, never once meeting his eyes. A confirmation. So she was avoiding him. He couldn't help but be a little annoyed.

Matthew wasted no time. He followed Feather back to the makeup and wardrobe wing of the studio space. As he approached her, he thought about how best to broach the subject, but before he could get too far into thinking about what to say, Feather noticed him. "Oh, sorry!" She excused herself.

"Well, from now on, make time! There are decency laws for you kids, and the last thing I need is some scandal coming out about not having proper dressing rooms for my under-aged talent." "Heard!" Feather called back as she kept walking and Matthew watched knowing he had little time to catch up.

Somehow, Feather had managed to be even faster, doing a quick wardrobe change on the side of the set and briskly walking past Miriam's chair. "Sorry, Miriam!" She sing-songed as she passed. "Places to be, people to see, no time for a graceful outfit change over!"

All he did know for sure is he wanted this weird energy that had settled between them to evaporate. And for the guilt that was eroding his resolve to keep performing like nothing had changed to soften. "Feather!" Miriam called after the director had called cut. "Changing on set? Unacceptable!"

Well, not today. Enough was enough. She may be quick, but he could be quicker. He'd catch her before she left set today, and he'd tell her he was....he'd apologize for the things he said. And maybe they could start over, or something. He wasn't exactly sure what he wanted out of this.

It just....bothered him how quickly she turned so cold. Rushing off the set in record speed before he could attempt to approach her. Leaving rooms and areas on set so they'd never end up alone together. Sure, he deserved it, but he wished she'd just give him a minute—a second to try to make it right

He couldn't blame her if that was the case. He was horrible toward her. It'd be foolish for her to keep showing him any warmth given how he treated her. But then she also said she'd keep things professional from now on. She'd never derail the shoot by being petty beyond the needs of the script.

Because he hadn't had the opportunity yet to properly apologize for how he went off on her the other day, and he couldn't help but think the opportunity hadn't arisen because Feather was avoiding him. Every shrug off and cold shoulder while they were shooting felt more genuine, intentional.

Perhaps Feather was using their current real life dynamic to feed her performance and make it even more convincing. Except...no. Feather was already a good actress, she didn't need motivation to perform well. Maybe it's just me, Matthew thought. I'm over thinking and reading into things.

While the cameras were rolling, the chemistry between he and Feather had been maintained. They played off each other well, and they delivered a convincing dynamic of a boyfriend very into his girlfriend, but a girlfriend so into her new phone she's ready to call it quits with said boyfriend.

Several days had passed since Matthew's unacceptable faux pas. The fast and the ice bath and the not being able to box helped his arm measurements, which meant he wasn't out of a job—yet. And his performance with the commercial seemed to help solidify that for him further.

The fact that he let himself buy into those rumors his mother spoke about—that wasn't him. He never gave those things any weight, and the one time he did, ugh, he felt like such a louse. He was having bad day, but as annoyed as he was, Feather didn't deserve that, and now he had to make it right.

She never did finish that thought. She just kept walking. And as he watched her go, Matthew felt a pit begin to form in the center of his stomach. "Smooth move, Landgraab." He grunted under his breath. He didn't mean to yell at her the way that he did, but more than that—

"Anyway, I guess none of that really matters. I'll leave you alone and keep things professional." Feather walked past Matthew. "But one last thing. Maybe reconsider breaking your hand. They probably will fire you if you do that, and I overheard you saying you wanted this job, so..." She trailed off