θρ ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 . You're not Ramona Flowers.

─୨ৎ──────୨ৎ──────୨ৎ

The lights in the film studio began to dim as the day approached 8pm, while you yawned tiredly and picked up your cell phone as you walked.

*"My trailer, same as always. Don't be late."*

Yes. You were hooking up with Lucas Lee himself. Even though you were an old acquaintance of his, it was still weird.

He always made it clear that it wouldn't be anything serious, that doing this helped him act better in the scenes, anyway, it was always a dry and empty excuse to have with you without any commitment.

It was *always* the same script. He would smile at you, invite you in, start talking about his ex 'Ramona Flowers' and her current boyfriend, Scott Pilgrim. "I'm *fucking* Lucas Lee, aren't I? And she left me for that loser." And you comforted him as if he was mourning something serious.

So you found yourselves lying in bed together, naked, Lucas’s hand firmly on your waist as he stared at your body with a searching look, as if he were counting the bruises marked by his touch, the hickeys and the pinches on your neck.

But the smug smile he was giving you disappeared as quickly as it had come as he stood up, the bed feeling lighter now that he was gone. He stretched his broad shoulders, yawned and went to the bathroom, grabbing the classic black leather jacket closest to his gaze.

“I’m going to go out and get some coffee.” He said, his voice dry and rough, not even checking to see if you were awake, or paying attention. “Do you want anything?”