Mr. Marsh’s Twins

Before leaving, the director instructed, “Start the car, and once it’s running, you can begin your lines. Spencer, place your left hand on the window, fingers slightly parted for a close-up shot. Your hands are beautiful.” Spencer, with a self-assured glance, admired his well-defined fingers, knowing they were a sight.

Summer noticed a noticeable scar on his left hand, surprised by its beauty despite the imperfection. “You’ll hold Summer in your arm, make the kiss intense and full of conflicting emotions, and convey your unwavering love for her,” the director continued.

“Understood,” Spencer thought, knowing his natural acting would do the trick.

Everyone had seen the script, and Riverflow, in the play, was chosen by Tristan. Frustrated, he used a passionate kiss to express his love, hoping to convince her.

Due to Zoe’s interference, Riverflow hesitated, but Tristan’s memory returned, clarifying his true feelings. Soon, the director closed the car door and returned to his screen.

The photographer in the passenger seat adjusted the angle, “Spencer, move a little to the right, just a bit more.” Summer shifted to the right, thinking to make space.

However, the photographer corrected, “Miss Summer, you don’t need to move. Move slightly to the left, it will put you closer to Spencer, and the angle is perfect.”

Summer adjusted again, and Spencer shifted, their bodies now closer than before before the official scene began.

“Alright, that’s the position,” the director said to the driver, “Let’s begin.”

Both wore headphones, and the director was satisfied with the angle and their expressions. The girl, calm on the surface, was grappling with love and uncertainty. The boy restrained, held his love tightly.

The air in the car was charged with emotion.

The director gave the signal, “Start.”

The car slowly moved forward, and the camera, on the floor, captured every detail. “Riverflow, how can I convince you that I love you?” Tristan pulled her wrist, explaining, “Zoe’s eyes remind me of you…”

He struggled to continue.

“What’s wrong with that feeling?” The girl’s eyes narrowed, her chest tight, waiting for his answer.

Tristan felt he was in a tricky situation. He took a deep breath, his eyes deepening, “That feeling can’t compare to yours! She’s a fake, you’re the real one! You’re the one I love!”Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

With that, he placed his hand on the window, trapping Riverflow beneath him. His intense approach left her startled, her back pressed against the seat.

Their eyes met, filled with intensity and passion. The heat of his breath and the sound of his strong heartbeat were almost tangible.

In the next moment, Spencer leaned closer, their noses touching, and their lips met again.

Her mind went blank under his kisses, her lips feeling like cool water. Spencer lost himself in the sensation, closing his eyes.

Summer’s breathing quickened, her heart racing. She couldn’t distinguish if it was part of the performance or reality.

This feeling was so much like love…

The director, captivated by the scene, watched with satisfaction, exceeding his expectations. He didn’t stop the kiss, allowing it to unfold.