Lines I Never Said

Chapter 8 — Into the Water

Chapter 8 — Into the Water

The forest air was crisp as the crew moved to the next shooting location — a serene corner where the trees parted to reveal a narrow river running gently over smooth stones.

The water sparkled under dappled sunlight, reflecting the golden-green canopy above. Moss clung to the banks, and tall reeds swayed softly in the breeze. Birds flitted overhead, chirping a delicate song. The sound of running water filled the air like a quiet lullaby.

Natasha stood on the edge of the set, hugging her clipboard to her chest. The tranquil beauty of the place almost made her forget her nerves. Almost.

Kevin and Samantha were already positioned on a flat rock by the river, rehearsing their lines — their voices carrying faintly over the sound of rushing water.

Natasha noticed James a few feet away, arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on the actors with his usual quiet intensity. He didn’t speak, but she could see the faint furrow in his brow — like he was holding his breath until the perfect shot came.

She swallowed. Her heart gave that familiar, unwelcome flutter.

On instinct, she grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler and stepped toward him. Maybe it was silly, but… it was a small way to show him she was thinking of him. That she noticed his quiet effort.

But as she stepped forward, she suddenly felt something hard knock into her ankle.

She gasped — her foot twisted on the slick ground.

Her clipboard clattered against the rocks.

The edge of the bank gave way.

And then she was falling.

The cold water hit her like ice, stealing the breath from her lungs.

She barely had time to cry out as she sank, the chill of the current swallowing her whole.

“Cut! Cut! What the hell?!” James’s voice roared through the clearing.

The actors froze mid-scene, startled.

“Who made that noise?! That was the best take we’ve had all day and you—”

But his tirade stopped abruptly when he saw what everyone else was staring at.

Her.

Natasha.

In the river, flailing helplessly, her hair plastered to her cheeks, eyes wide with fear.

For a heartbeat, he froze, shock and something sharper stabbing through him.

But before he could move, there was a splash — and Warren was already in the water, swimming strongly toward her.

He reached her in moments, his arms steadying her as she coughed and sputtered.

“You’re okay,” Warren murmured, his voice low and soothing as he guided her back to the bank. “You’re okay, Natasha.”

Her fingers clung weakly to his shirt as he lifted her onto the mossy edge of the water.

By then, James was there, kneeling by her side with a towel in hand, his face pale and tight with fury — not at her, but at everyone else.

He threw the towel around her shoulders and glared behind him. “Who tripped her?” His voice was a growl.

No one spoke, but Mika turned her head guiltily, her lips pressed into a thin line.

James’s jaw clenched. “We’ll deal with that later.”

Then his voice softened, his hands steady on Natasha’s shivering shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you warmed up.”

Warren stood behind them, still dripping wet, watching as James walked her toward the tents.

Her small hand clutched James’s arm as he guided her gently but firmly, shielding her from the crew’s stares.

Warren said nothing — just stayed behind, the water from his clothes pooling at his feet.

He watched until they disappeared behind the canvas flap.

Then he let out a quiet sigh and turned away.

Inside the tent, Natasha sat on the cot, her hair damp, the towel still wrapped around her.

James stood near the entrance, arms folded, his eyes scanning the clearing beyond as if daring anyone to follow.

When she stood and reached for her bag, he turned to her.

“You don’t have to rush,” he murmured. “Take your time. No one will bother you.”

She nodded faintly, pulling out a clean shirt. “I’ll… just take a quick bath.”

He stayed right outside the small wash tent as she cleaned up, making sure no one came near.

When she emerged, toweling her hair dry, he was still there.

Still watching.

Still waiting.

Their eyes met — and in the quiet of that moment, something shifted.

He stepped closer.

Her breath hitched as his fingers brushed her damp hair back from her face.

His eyes dropped to her lips — and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

Her heart pounded.

But just as he leaned in, she pulled back slightly, her voice barely above a whisper “James… what are we?”

He froze, his brows knitting.

She swallowed hard, her words tumbling out now.

“Because… I don’t understand. You’re here. You’re kind. You protect me. But you’ve never said… if this is just… nothing. Or if it means something to you. Because if it’s nothing, I…”

Her voice cracked.

“I can’t keep feeling like this if it’s nothing.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. His gaze was heavy on her face.

Then his hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin lightly.

“You want me to say it?” he murmured.

She nodded faintly.

He gave a quiet, dry laugh — but it wasn’t cruel. Just… tired.

“At my age, Natasha,” he said softly, “I don’t… do that high school courting thing anymore. I don’t play games. I don’t make big speeches or wear my heart on my sleeve. That’s not who I am.”

Her heart sank.

But then his eyes caught hers — dark, intense, and unflinching.

“But I like you,” he said simply. “And if you haven’t figured that out yet… you haven’t been paying attention.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Because even though it wasn’t the confession she dreamed of — something about the quiet certainty in his voice still made her chest ache in the most dangerous way.

Later that afternoon, when Natasha finally emerged from the tent after changing and catching her breath, the sunlight had shifted golden across the forest clearing.

The set was quiet for now — they were between takes — and the gentle rush of the river called to her like a calm lullaby.

She spotted Warren sitting on a log by the water’s edge, running his fingers absently through his still-damp hair.

Natasha hesitated, then made her way over to him, clutching a small paper bag in her hands.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Warren looked up, and a crooked grin spread across his face. “Hey, mermaid. You survived?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “I… just wanted to say thank you. For earlier. You didn’t even hesitate.”

She held out the paper bag shyly. “Here. It’s not much. Just some snacks from my bag.”

Warren took the bag like it was a treasure and peeked inside. “Chips and… oh, is that chocolate? Natasha, you’re going to ruin me. I already told you you deserve better, and now here you are bribing me with sweets.”

She laughed softly and sat down beside him, their knees almost touching as they watched the river ripple in the afternoon light.

He popped a chip in his mouth and said between bites, “You know, I’d jump in after you every time. Even if it meant freezing my butt off.”

Before she could answer, Kevin strolled over, his hands in his pockets.

“Well, well,” he teased lightly, “the river gang, huh? Mind if I join?”

Natasha smiled and gestured to the log. “Of course not.”

Kevin sat on her other side, and soon all three of them were chatting easily, the tension of the day melting away.

Not far away, Samantha lingered by the trees, her phone in her hand as she watched them with a raised eyebrow.

Then she smirked and strode over.

“Don’t mind me,” she said, sliding onto the log next to Kevin. “But this is too cute to pass up.”

Before Natasha could react, Samantha raised her phone and snapped a few photos of them sitting there, laughing.

“You’ll thank me later,” Samantha said slyly, already typing up a caption as she posted it to her socials.

Natasha’s phone buzzed just moments later. She glanced at the screen — it was Mikey.

Her little brother’s message lit up the screen in all caps:

OMG NAT!!! IS THAT SAMANTHA WITH YOU?! SHE POSTED YOU GUYS!!! SHE’S MY IDOL!!!

Natasha laughed under her breath and turned to Samantha.

“Um… could I ask you for a favor? My brother… he’s a huge fan of yours. Would you mind…?”

Samantha grinned and snatched Natasha’s phone.

“For Mikey? Of course.”

She hit record and beamed at the camera:

"Hi Mikey! It’s Samantha — your sister told me you’re my biggest fan. Keep supporting her because she’s amazing. And good luck with school! Lots of love!”

Natasha’s heart swelled as she sent the video to Mikey.

But before she could even tuck her phone away, Warren suddenly snatched it playfully from her hand.

“Wait, wait, wait — it’s my turn!” he announced, already recording himself.

Natasha laughed, trying to grab it back, but he dodged her.

On video, Warren said dramatically, “Mikey, it’s me — Warren. Just letting you know I saved your sister from drowning today, so you owe me one. Stay cool, kiddo!”

He handed the phone back with a cheeky grin, and Natasha couldn’t help but laugh until her cheeks hurt.

For a moment, everything felt light.

But that evening, after dinner, everything shifted again.

James was waiting for her outside her tent when she returned. His arms were crossed, and his expression was darker than she’d ever seen it.

“James?” she asked softly, startled.

His eyes burned into hers. “Why were you sitting down there with them?”

She blinked, confused. “What?”

“With Warren. With Kevin. Laughing. Taking pictures like it’s some kind of… game,” he said, his voice low but sharp.

She opened her mouth but no words came out.

“Do you even care,” he continued, stepping closer, “what people think? How it looks? You think they deserve to be sitting there with you, making you laugh, when—”

“James,” she cut in, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

She didn’t know what else to say. Her heart was hammering, and his nearness — his anger — confused and scared her all at once.

And before she even realized what she was doing, she closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss shocked him at first — but then his hands were on her waist, pulling her closer, and the kiss deepened, hot and desperate, like everything they’d been holding back finally broke loose.

His fingers threaded into her hair, his breath mingling with hers, and for a moment it felt like nothing else in the world existed.

But then she pulled back slightly, gasping for air.

“James…” she whispered. “I… I just want to know. What are we? Please. Because I can’t… keep wondering if this means anything to you.”

He stared at her, his dark eyes searching hers, his thumb brushing her cheek.

Then he shook his head faintly and gave a soft, dry laugh.

“At my age,” he murmured, “I don’t… do labels. I don’t go around asking girls to be my girlfriend.”

Her chest tightened painfully.

But then his lips curved faintly, and he added, almost reluctantly:

“But if it’ll keep that sad look off your face… be my girlfriend, Natasha.”

Her breath caught, her heart stuttering.

She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, even through the tears welling in her eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered, barely able to speak.

And for the first time, he smiled back — a real, quiet smile — before pulling her into his arms again.