Lines I Never Said

Chapter 1 — First Drafts The morning sun spilled through the towering glass windows of BrightStar Studios, filling the lobby with a golden glow that seemed almost… cinematic. Natasha clutched her folder of printed scripts tightly to her chest, the edges of the papers digging into her palm. Her heart thumped wildly — a mix of excitement and sleepless exhaustion. She had barely closed her eyes the night before, rewriting scene after scene for the pilot episode. She wanted it perfect. Needed it perfect. Today wasn’t just her first day on the job; it was the day she stepped into the very place she’d dreamed of since she was seventeen. BrightStar was more than a studio to her — it was the kind of place where stories came alive. Her heels clicked nervously against the marble floor as she made her way deeper into the maze of sound stages and hallways. Staff hurried past her — camera crew hauling equipment, props are everywhere. The whole place felt alive with purpose. She inhaled, straightened her blazer, and whispered to herself: You belong here now, Natasha. This is your dream. Clutching the script even tighter, she made her way toward Stage 3, where she was told she’d find the director. But just as she rounded the corner — “Oh!” Hot liquid splashed across her script, seeping into the pages and dripping onto her sleeve. Natasha stumbled back as her papers fell to the ground in a messy, coffee-stained heap. “Watch where you’re going!” she snapped, too shocked and flustered to hold back. The man she’d collided with stood still for a moment, blinking at her. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black slacks and a perfectly pressed white shirt, the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. His coffee cup was still in hand — though now half empty — and his expression was somewhere between irritation and amusement. “Oh no,” he said, crouching down to pick up the scattered sheets. “This was—” he glanced at the top page and paused. Then something shifted in his eyes. He looked up at her. “This is… the script?” Natasha folded her arms, glaring down at him. “Yes, it was the script. The one I stayed up all night writing and editing, actually. Thank you for baptizing it in espresso.” A laugh — low and surprised — escaped him. He gathered the last page, stood, and handed her the pile. “Well. Then, thank you.” Natasha blinked. “For…?” He extended his free hand toward her. “For the script.” His lips curved just slightly at the corner, though his tone remained level, serious. “I’m James. Director of this… little chaos.” Her jaw dropped. Director. This was the director? The same brilliant, notorious James Sinclair whose name was whispered in every television circle as the genius behind BrightStar’s most successful shows? Heat rushed to her cheeks as she clumsily shook his hand, her earlier sarcasm now hanging in the air like a bad joke. “Oh. I—I didn’t… know. I’m Natasha. New… script editor.” “I know,” he said simply, releasing her hand. His gaze lingered just a moment too long, before he turned and gestured toward a nearby office. “Come on. Let’s print you a clean copy before the meeting.” She followed him wordlessly into his office, her cheeks still burning. --- The office was sleek and modern, all dark wood and muted tones. James walked around the desk and fed her USB drive into the printer. “We’ve been waiting for someone like you,” he said without looking at her, his voice measured. Natasha’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t tell if that was just something he said, or if he meant it. She tried to busy herself with straightening the papers on his desk, but every so often she caught him watching her out of the corner of his eye — as though memorizing her face. He didn’t smile. He didn’t flirt. But something about his intensity made her feel strangely seen. When the fresh script emerged from the printer, he handed it to her. His fingers brushed hers for just a second too long. “Good work,” he murmured, then straightened. “Let’s go. Producers are waiting.” --- The conference room was already buzzing when they arrived. Producers, assistant directors, and department heads were gathered around a long table, flipping through copies of the manuscript. Natasha sat silently next to James as the team dissected her script scene by scene. She tried not to fidget. Tried not to sneak glances at James as he took notes with sharp, decisive strokes of his pen. When the meeting finally adjourned, James rose. “Good work, everyone,” he said briskly. “Let’s reconvene tomorrow with the cast.” --- At lunch, Natasha found herself alone in the cafeteria, staring at her untouched sandwich. “Hey,” a warm voice called out. She looked up to see a petite young woman with bright eyes and a friendly smile. “You’re Natasha, right? I’m Mia — James’s assistant.” “Oh. Hi,” Natasha said softly. Mia plunked down across from her, unwrapping her own lunch. “Don’t sit here all gloomy by yourself. First days can be brutal. You did really well in there, by the way.” Natasha smiled shyly. “Thanks.” They ate together as Mia chattered about BrightStar — how everyone here was like family, how James was demanding but brilliant, how the studio felt more like home than work. Natasha couldn’t help but glance occasionally toward the far corner, where James sat alone, reviewing notes as he ate. There was something about him — sharp edges and quiet storms — that made her chest tighten. Mia followed her gaze and smirked knowingly. “Yeah. He’s… something, huh?” Natasha’s cheeks reddened. “I… wasn’t…” “Sure,” Mia teased. Natasha ducked her head, smiling faintly. --- The afternoon passed in a blur of emails, phone calls, and more script revisions. Before she knew it, the day was over. --- The next morning, the energy in the studio was even more electric. Today, the cast arrived. Natasha and the team were busy laying out scripts, adjusting chairs, preparing water bottles for the actors who’d be starring in The Lines I Never Said. The lead actress, Samantha, was already a big name in the industry — beautiful and poised. Kevin, the male lead, was equally famous. Then came the supporting actors: Gian, confident and charming, and finally Warren — a name Natasha didn’t recognize. When he walked in, though, heads turned. Warren was striking, but in a different way than James — warmer somehow, with an easy smile and a natural confidence that lit up the room. Natasha barely noticed him at first. She was too focused on making sure everyone had the correct version of the script. But as she crossed the room, she felt an uncomfortable pressure in her bladder. She set down the last stack of papers and whispered to Mia, “I’ll be right back. Bathroom.” --- She rushed down the hallway, barely glancing at the signs as she pushed through the nearest door. Relief flooded her as she slipped into a stall. But when she emerged a minute later, she froze. A man stood by the sink, shirt half unbuttoned, leaning over to adjust his tie. He looked up in surprise, and they locked eyes. It was Warren. Natasha gasped. Warren blinked, then broke into a crooked grin. “Uh. Wrong room?” She glanced around — the urinals, the tiled floor, the MEN’S sign on the door she’d clearly missed. Her face flamed red. “I—oh my God—I—” Warren chuckled softly, his voice low and teasing. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” Natasha scrambled for the door, muttering incoherently, but not before hearing him call after her: “See you around… Script Girl.” And for the first time all day, she smiled.