Chapter Text
It’s still early when I arrive at the set where we’re filming.
I spot Joe immediately from a distance. He waves at me.
Stevie is just a few steps behind him and cheers excitedly when she sees me too.
We hug in greeting.
“We’re a team, that’s fantastic,” she says, buzzing with excitement.
Joe buries his face in his hands and groans dramatically.
Almost in unison, Stevie and I protest with laughter.
We’ve all completed our solo tasks, so this is a wonderful ending.
Then I notice the cameras a little further away, already capturing our arrival.
Alex is standing off to the side at a table with various props. He’s holding the envelope and stands ready in full assistant mode.
The three of us head over to him.
He greets us distantly for the camera, but when our eyes meet, I think I catch a flicker of something in his gaze.
Joe grabs the envelope.
The first two tasks we do in the same location, one after the other.
The first one is chaotic, loud, and physically exhausting. We build something that looks half as stable as it should. Stevie and I trip over things, laugh and shout over each other, while Joe constantly swears and ends up throwing everything down in frustration. But once it’s over, even he’s laughing with us.
The second task is quieter, almost philosophical. We have to make joint decisions, assess each other, and find compromises. We manage surprisingly well.
“We’re moving on!” a crew member calls out as everything gets packed up. The third and final task takes place at the Taskmaster house.
Alex joins us and gives us a quick update on what’s next.
Stevie and Joe go grab their bags. I stay with Alex for a moment, looking at him.
“Those were great tasks,” I say. “And we’re a great team.”
When I saw Stevie and Joe this morning, I felt an immense wave of relief that it was them – not James. Apparently, it had been weighing on me more than I’d realised.
“I figured you’d be a good match,” he replies, glancing after the others.
“You could see you were having fun. You stayed authentic. That made it entertaining.”
I laugh. “Entertaining or chaotic?”
“In the best sense, both,” he says, turning to me with a smile. His eyes flick to my hair and he steps a bit closer.
“You’ve got… hang on.”
Before I can react, he lifts his hand and gently reaches into my hair. His fingers brush my forehead as he steps even closer. I instinctively hold my breath.
He softly pulls out a blade of grass and holds it up between us before letting it drop to the ground.
“Evidence of the chaos,” he says, and I laugh.
“I wonder how long that’s been in there,” I say with a sigh, and we exchange amused looks.
Then I notice how close he’s standing. Neither of us has stepped back.
“So,” I say, feigning seriousness, “is there more of nature clinging to me?”
He smiles, then his eyes scan my hair again.
“One moment.”
He reaches out again, a bit more hesitantly this time. With two fingers, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture is nearly unconscious, fleeting.
Our eyes meet.
“Alex! We’re ready!”
A crew member calls from near the van.
Alex lowers his hand, as if pulled out of a dream, but holds my gaze a second longer than necessary.
“Well then…” he clears his throat. “On to the final task,” he says, a bit softer than before.
I nod, and he walks to the van. I watch him go, a little dazed, a little confused.
Then an arm wraps around my shoulders and Stevie pulls me along.
“The final taaaask,” she sings and laughs.
I let her sweep me up, and together we head off.
…
When we arrive at the Taskmaster house, the next task is already set up.
I go to open the envelope, but Stevie stops me.
“This is the last time we’re getting a task,” she whispers, just for the three of us, not for the camera.
“Let’s savour the moment.”
We exchange a look, and I feel a tightness in my chest. I don’t want it to end.
We nod to each other and I open the envelope. And chaos begins all over again.
Using the props provided, we have to recreate a famous painting in real life, recognisable to the Taskmaster. In exactly 30 minutes, a photo will be taken – ready or not.
From the previous two tasks, we’ve learned how we work as a team, and despite the shouting, laughter, and swearing, we manage to throw something together. Even if Joe is still half-leaping into place when the picture is taken.
When the final clapboard goes down, silence falls.
No one says anything. The realisation hits. Is this it?
Then suddenly, Stevie bursts into tears.
I don’t hesitate and pull her into a hug, hold her tightly, and feel my own eyes burning. Next to us, Joe swears softly and joins the hug.
“It was such a great time,” Stevie sniffles as we pull apart. I nod, a lump in my throat. We start hugging the crew and thanking everyone.
I look for Alex and spot him a bit further back, watching, serious.
I take a deep breath and walk over to him.
“Can I hug you?” I ask softly.
Of course, I haven’t forgotten that Alex doesn’t like hugs. But right now, I really need one – and I hope he’ll make an exception.
Alex looks at me for a moment. Then he puts the clipboard down, steps forward, and hugs me. Not briefly or stiffly, but calmly, intentionally, firmly.
I rest my head on his shoulder and feel his warmth.
“Thank you for this incredibly special time,” I murmur.
I feel him lean his head gently against mine.
“Thank you for being part of it,” he replies.
I feel him pull me a little closer.
“Alex!” comes a shout from somewhere behind us. Without warning, a body crashes into us.
Stevie joins the hug, then Joe, and then more crew members. We’re all laughing, giggling, and I get squashed against Alex. I feel his warmth, his breath, the rhythm of his heartbeat, and catch the scent of him.
After a few moments, we all pull apart and grin at each other.
The wrap-up begins, and the three of us say our goodbyes.
On a whim, I invite everyone who’s free to my place tonight to celebrate the end of filming.
…
I’m frantically trying to tidy up my flat. Not many are coming, but even with few people, the place will feel packed. I look around. This is as good as it gets. There are still books in every room, the old sofa is in the living room with cushions and blankets, fairy lights glow softly, and a small wooden table—
the doorbell rings.
People start trickling in.
Tim brings wine, Joe enough beer for an entire football team. Alice and Dan from the crew show up. Stevie connects her music to the speaker. Laughter and chatter fill the air. Conversations pop up in the kitchen, the living room, on the sofa.
The doorbell rings again and I pull myself away from a conversation.
“Alex,” I beam. I didn’t think he’d make it – post-shoot meetings can take forever.
“Hi,” he says, a little reserved.
Our eyes linger on each other longer than usual.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say sincerely and let him in. He looks around curiously.
“Bathroom’s back left, and I’m not giving a tour – you’ve already seen it all.”
He smiles, and at that moment, Stevie spots him and greets him exuberantly. I grin and rejoin the others.
The hours fly by in a blur of conversations and clinking glasses. My little flat is full of voices, laughter, music. Someone starts telling stories from the shoot, and soon everyone’s talking at once, comparing tasks, laughing at blunders and embarrassing on-camera moments.
Alex is right in the middle of it. He’s sociable, laughing genuinely at Tim’s exaggerations, toasting with Stevie, even joining in a silly drinking game Joe starts and loses almost immediately. Sometimes we talk, sometimes with others, but somehow our eyes keep meeting, and somehow, we’re always close by each other.
At some point, Stevie pulls me over to the sofa for my opinion on something. Alex is deep in a heated debate, and Stevie squeezes in beside me, nudging me closer to him. The sofa’s almost too small for three people. I’m too tipsy to notice the mischievous look she gives me. And she’s too tipsy to leave the situation alone.
The conversation continues, with each other, with others. Our shoulders brush. Our knees bump when we reach for our glasses or glance around.
Eventually, people start saying their goodbyes and stumble out. I see everyone out one by one. The door clicks shut behind Joe, the last to leave. The flat goes quiet. The air is warm.
I head to the kitchen and fill two glasses with water. Back in the living room, Alex is still on the sofa, leaning back, eyes closed.
When he hears me, he opens his eyes and rubs his face.
“You really notice how small my flat is when it’s that full,” I say with a smile, handing him the water.
He takes it gratefully.
“It’s very cosy,” he says, glancing around.
I flop down beside him on the sofa. Our shoulders touch. We both lean back, staring at the ceiling. The room spins slightly. We sit in silence, listening to the quiet music.
Alex clears his throat.
“I should go, or I’ll fall asleep right here,” he says, shifting forward.
I watch him get up and wobble slightly. Maybe he had one beer too many. Without thinking, I grab his hand to stop him.
“Wait, didn’t you say you drove here?” I ask, confused.
Alex looks at my hand holding his, then at me. He doesn’t pull away.
“Yeah, but I’ll take a taxi and pick the car up tomorrow.”
I shake my head, which only makes the room tilt more.
“But that doesn’t make sense. You leave with a taxi and then you need to come back tomorrow and then you need to go back again with your car. Same way back and forth.” Do I even make sense?
Alex smiles, amused.
“That would be the general idea,” he says, laughing.
I let go of his hand and gesture to the sofa.
“You can stay the night if you want. I’ll get you a blanket.”
He stares at me for a moment, surprised. He looks exhausted.
“No, wait, I’m smaller – I can take the sofa. You can have my bed,” I say casually. Rational thought has left the building, and I head to the bedroom, returning with a pillow and blanket.
Alex watches me and chuckles quietly. When I flop onto the sofa, he sighs.
“Okay… I’ll stay, but only if I get the sofa.”
I consider for a second and nod.
“Alright. But if it’s too uncomfortable, we switch!”
“Deal,” he says softly.
…
I lie in bed, but sleep doesn’t come. It’s too quiet. Or too loud in my head. I can’t stop replaying those little moments. The gentle touch in the taxi, the tight hug…
I hear a rustle from the living room. The sofa is tiny – he probably can’t even stretch out. Guilt creeps in. Can he even sleep like that? I should offer him the bed.
I get up and tiptoe barefoot into the living room. Alex is half sprawled on the narrow sofa.
“That looks painful,” I comment.
Alex blinks and looks at me.
“I’ll survive. Probably.”
“Alex, come on. Let’s swap – this can’t be comfortable.”
“There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the sofa in your own flat.”
I hesitate.
“Okay. You know what? My bed isn’t huge, but it’s big enough for both of us.”
He stares at me. Just for a moment.
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” I say, already turning back toward the bedroom. “But if you snore, I swear…”
I hear him chuckle softly and the rustle of the blanket as he gets up.
When he enters the dark bedroom, I register vaguely that he’s only wearing a T-shirt and boxers. Like me. But in my tipsy state, I don’t think twice about it.
We lie side by side, on our backs, our shoulders almost touching. No one speaks.
A car whooshes by outside. Inside, it’s silent apart from the quiet hum of the fridge.
I lie perfectly still, eyes open, though I can’t see anything. I feel him beside me, even without touching. I feel his warmth.
I don’t know what I’m thinking, but I roll slightly to the side, and my fingertips find his forearm. And stay there.
He doesn’t move but his breathing has changed. Shallower, a bit faster.
Then, slowly, he lifts his arm. Hesitates. Wraps it around me.
I pause. Then inch closer and feel his body against mine. Warm, steady. I rest my head on his chest, naturally. I hear his heartbeat – steady, but somehow quick.
We stay still for a moment. I close my eyes, feel his arm around me, his hand on my arm. Then, almost imperceptibly, he pulls me a little closer.
I let it happen. Let myself fall into it. It feels familiar. Safe.
We don’t say anything, as if words might break the moment.
At some point, without realising it, I fall asleep – my head nestled against Alex.