[ONC Round 1 Ambassador's Pick 🍷]
Rose Veretta is the heartbeat of the nation. Her smiles on magazine covers are worth a million dollars and to just get one of her clicks was to die for. People loved her and she loved her audience. At least that's...
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"This one, to the excellent rookie cast!"
"Cheers!" Boisterous laughter and clinking of glasses followed. It was the celebration party for the beginning of filming Butterflies' season 2. The director had dragged everyone to have a drink. This was going to be epic, he had said.
Butterflies truly lived up to that promise. Rose wholeheartedly agreed. Director Kieran was a jovial man, always willing to give new actors a chance. Those who worked under him flourished. In an industry where respect was hard to come by, Rose held Kieran in high regard. So when he extended the invitation, she couldn't refuse.
Rose really found such social gatherings a bit too much. Why would you want to celebrate every little thing? Doesn't that just jinx it all?
"Thank you, director!" The blushing kid spoke.
The cast of Butterflies was filled with budding talent. It was obvious that they were amateurs but when on set, their acting gave life to the role. They had done a great job and struggled very hard to stand against the other, more experienced actors in the series.
"It's our honor to be working with you." The young girl said. She had a baby face, the kind that was perfect for sunshine roles in mafia AUs. Her blonde curls were pulled into a ponytail which swung whenever she moved.
Rose had grown to develop an interest in her. She was an exceptional actor and an even better competitor. However, in this sequel, the role wasn't supposed to be given to her.
"Drink up fellas!" The old director announced, chucking an entire mug of beer down his throat and getting foam on his lips.
-
The world blurred before Rose's eyes, shapes merging and multiplying. What should have been singular appeared as a perplexing duality, and twos danced like mirages. She reached out, her fingers grazing the enigma before her.
Above her, a chuckle resonated. Newcomer Sophie Fernandez provided the anchor, her presence both grounding and bewildering. "Miss Veretta," Sophie's voice held a hint of amusement, "that's my boob."
Rose tilted her head upward, midnight eyes struggling to focus. The haze lifted just enough for recognition. The talented but unexpected companion stood there, her expression a mix of camaraderie and mild embarrassment. Realization dawned, and Rose swiftly withdrew her hand, cheeks flushing.
"It's okay, you are drunk."
"Drunk?" Rose slurred out, her mind going hazier with each passing second. Whatever the blonde newbie said fell on deaf ears. They probably passed a sharp object because there was a sharp slice across Rose's bicep, paired with the feeling of liquid flowing down the smooth skin. Oddly enough, Rose didn't feel pain. Maybe it was a small cut. She wanted to complain and get it patched up but her throat felt dry.
"Take me to this hotel," Sophie ordered, most probably to the driver of the car.
"I can just take her home." Oh, it was Rose's car.
