Page 15 of Rhythm and Rapture (Behind the Lens #5)
Chapter Eleven
THURSDAY
The Behind the Lens warehouse looks different at seven in the morning—less bustling creative hub I've come to know, more like a stage waiting for its performers. Today's the day. The calendar shoot. The collaboration. The moment I stop being just The Hidden Chemist and become... something else.
I arrive early, needing time to center myself before they get here. Before everything shifts from messages and flirtation to... whatever this is about to become.
I pass through security and park, taking a few centering breaths. My hands shake slightly as I check my phone. Their plane landed twenty minutes ago. They'll be here soon.
Nova looks up from the reception desk as I approach, her winged eyeliner perfect even at this ungodly hour. Behind her, I can see a stack of documents spread across her workspace—the contracts I sent to Nashville.
"Sabina! Right on time." She taps the papers with a manicured nail.
"Just finished reviewing everything. All signatures are good, STD tests came back clear across the board—and get this, they signed everything without having their manager or publicist review it.
" She looks up at me with raised eyebrows.
"Which either means they trust you completely or they're completely insane. "
"Probably both," I mutter, my stomach doing another flip.
"Your collaborators should be arriving any moment.
Traffic from Reno-Tahoe International Airport is actually moving for once.
" She grins, sliding the documents into a folder.
"Your prep room is all set up—room 11. Hair and makeup will be there in about twenty minutes.
Chad and Monty are already setting up equipment in the main studio. "
"Thanks, Nova."
"Oh, and Sabina?" She leans forward conspiratorially. "I peeked at their photos when processing the IDs. They're even better looking in their documentation than in their music videos. This is going to be epic."
I feel heat rise to my cheeks as I head toward the prep area. Of course, Nova looked. I would have, too.
The warehouse is set up like a high-end production facility.
Fifteen individual rooms line the main hallway, each equipped with professional lighting, multiple camera angles, and whatever set design the content requires.
My prep room is exactly what I expected from Behind the Lens—professional, clean, well-stocked with everything I could need.
Makeup station, wardrobe rack, comfortable seating area.
It's strange being here in person. All my Hidden Chemist content has been filmed at home, carefully scheduled around Kael's bedtime, with equipment I could quickly hide if he woke up.
No professional lighting rigs, no makeup team, just me in my bedroom with a ring light and a prayer that he'd sleep through the night.
Being here—having an actual prep room, professional support, the luxury of not checking the baby monitor every five minutes—feels surreal.
No rushing to pack away equipment before the school run.
No muffling sounds because there's a five-year-old sleeping down the hall.
Just... space to transform without the constant weight of my other responsibilities.
Nova pops her head in. "Your boys just cleared security. They're about ten minutes out."
My boys. The casual ownership in her words makes my stomach flip.
"Thanks," I manage.
"Sabina?" She steps fully into the room, studying me with those sharp eyes. "You good? Because in all the time you've been creating content here, I've never seen you nervous."
"This is different," I admit.
"Because it's real?"
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"Good," she says simply. "The best content comes from real connection. Just remember—you have full creative control. Chad's just there to capture whatever magic you create."
She leaves me with that thought, and I start laying out my outfit with the precision of someone preparing for surgery. I have minutes to transform from Sabina into The Hidden Chemist. To put on my armor before facing them in person.
And that's exactly what my outfit is. What it always is. Armor. A way to create separation between who I am on camera and who I am outside of it.
The Hidden Chemist wears masks and heels and lab coats with confidence. Sabina wears clearance jeans and worries about grocery money. Sabina is a student. A mother. A woman who calculates the cost of everything. The Hidden Chemist is someone who can afford to take risks.
The white lab coat hangs perfectly pressed on its hanger.
The fishnet stockings and garters are arranged on the vanity like delicate scientific instruments.
And there, in their tissue paper, are the red stilettos I ordered specifically for today—five-inch heels covered in small black spikes that catch the light like tiny obsidian stars.
But it's the mask that makes my hands shake slightly as I lift it from its protective case.
Red. I've never worn red before. My signature white with gold embellishments has been my brand for months, with occasional black and silver for darker content. But red? Red is bold. Red is dangerous. Red says this matters in a way that white never could.
A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. "Hair and makeup!" calls a cheerful voice.
Two women enter with professional kits and friendly smiles. Maya, the makeup artist, has rainbow hair and steady hands that immediately put me at ease. Jin, the hairstylist, carries an arsenal of tools that could rival a scientist's laboratory.
"So we're thinking glamorous but edgy for today?" Maya asks, already studying my bone structure. "Something that complements the red theme without overpowering the mask?"
I nod, settling into the makeup chair. For the next hour, I let them work their magic.
Maya contours my face with the precision of an artist, creating shadows and highlights that will photograph beautifully.
She keeps my eye makeup subtle—the mask will be the star—but makes my lips bold and glossy in a deep red that matches the mask perfectly.
Jin works on my hair simultaneously, using hot tools to create long, loose waves that will cascade down my back. She adds subtle texture and shine, making sure every strand will move perfectly for the cameras.
"The red is going to look incredible with your skin tone," Maya murmurs, applying the final touches. "And that mask? Pure art."
My phone buzzes. Roman: We're here. Nova's getting us settled. No rush.
They're here. In the building. Just down the hall.
Maya must notice my sudden tension because she pauses with her brush. "You good?"
"Yeah," I breathe. "Just... they're here."
"First time meeting collaborators in person?" Jin asks knowingly.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"The anticipation is always the worst part," Maya says, returning to my makeup. "Once you're actually in the room together, instinct takes over. Trust me."
There's a brief knock on the door and Jin shouts for them to come in, expecting Monty and Chad to ask about timing, except it opens to reveal neither. Instead, Roman, Ash and Felix step inside.
For a moment, nobody moves. They're frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, taking in the sight of me in red lace and not much else. I should grab my robe. Should maintain some professional distance. Should do anything except stand here feeling like every nerve ending has suddenly come alive.
"Wrong room?" I manage, my voice steadier than I feel.
"Right room," Roman says roughly. "Security sent us here. Said you were in prep."
"I am." I gesture vaguely at my state of undress. "Clearly."
Ash makes a sound that might be a whimper. "We can go. We should go. Should we go?"
"You've seen me in less on stream," I point out, surprising myself with the observation.
"That's different," Felix says quietly. "That was performance. This is..."
"Real," I finish.
The word hangs between us, heavy with implication. Because this is real—the three of them standing in my doorway, the way my skin heats under their gaze, the fact that in less than an hour we'll be exploring chemistry that has nothing to do with molecular structures.
"Come in," I hear myself say. "Might as well get comfortable with each other before the cameras start rolling."
They enter slowly, like they're afraid sudden movements might break whatever spell has fallen over the room.
Roman's eyes never leave mine, dark with an intensity that makes me shiver.
Ash is uncharacteristically quiet, his usual energy replaced by something reverent.
Felix watches with that careful attention, cataloging every detail.
"The red is new," Felix observes.
"For June," I explain, then clarify, "The calendar is just one month—June. National Sex Day. Seemed appropriate to do something... different."
"It's perfect," Roman says simply.
The ease between us is still there, despite the unusual circumstances. Despite me standing here in lingerie while they're fully dressed. Despite what's about to happen.
The guys move to the sitting area while Maya and Jin finish their work, but I can feel their eyes on me the entire time. Watching as final adjustments are made to my hair. Observing as my lips are perfected to complement the mask.
"The sexual tension in here could be bottled and sold," Maya murmurs as she applies the finishing touches.
"That would require isolating the specific pheromones," I reply automatically, then catch myself. "Sorry. I default to science when I'm nervous."
"Don't apologize," Roman says from across the room. "It's part of who you are."
When they're finished, I barely recognize myself in the mirror. My hair falls in perfect waves, my skin looks flawless, and my lips are the exact shade of confidence I need.
"Thank you," I tell them, meaning it. "This is perfect."