Page 18 of What the Leos Burned (BLP Signs of Love #6)

Some Things Never Change

Zay and Princess walked into the soundstage together, still chuckling from some things he had just whispered under his breath.

“Nah, you remember that time at Belle Isle?” Zay said, grinning as he held the door open for her. “You dared me to jump in the water, and I actually did it—fully dressed—’cause I thought you’d give me a kiss after.”

Love snorted. “Boy, you smelled like lake funk and French fries for three days from that nasty ass water. Wasn’t nobody kissing that.”

“I was trying to impress you,” he said and nudged her shoulder as they walked side by side. “Risked hypothermia for your heart.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You were ridiculous.”

They moved together like muscle memory, close but not touching, smiles tucked in the corners of their mouths. The jokes and conversation were so easy it felt like no time had passed. Neither of them noticed the room quieted as their presence filled the space.

Kam looked up from his phone near the monitors and raised an eyebrow. Across the room, Tara stood by the prop table and raised a brow. Before either of them noticed the glares, Deuce’s voice rang out from the back of the set.

“Ooooh, the love is thick in here this morning! Thick like a Popeye’s biscuit, no drink!”

The room erupted in laughter.

Princess and Zay finally looked up, startled to realize the whole crew had watched them like a live rom-com. Princess flushed and covered her face for a second, laughing off the attention.

Zay scratched the back of his neck and grinned, the tension between them suddenly very public.

“Alright, alright,” Princess said. She took a step back and smoothed her shirt. “Let’s get to work.”

Zay nodded in agreement, his voice low. “Yeah. No distractions.”

They split off. Zay headed to the sound monitors to talk through the music scenes, and Princess walked over to the design crew to adjust props and layout.

As Zay scanned the audio equipment, Kam slid in beside him with a smile so bright it could’ve lit up the room.

“Okay, . . . y’all came in lookin’ real buddy-buddy this morning.”

“We’re just being professional,” Zay muttered, eyes on the screens.

“Right,” Kam replied, still grinning. “Professionally flirtin’, huh?”

Zay chuckled and rolled his eyes but said nothing.

On the other side of the room, Tara leaned toward Princess as they sorted through fabric swatches. “Mm-hmm. Came in giggling like y’all got matching hoodies in the car.”

Princess smirked without looking up. “It’s fine. We’re fine. Just . . . keeping it professional.”

“Mm-hmm,” Tara hummed. “Professional got you blushing in HD.”

Princess waved her off, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her.

And just like that, the day began.

The hours passed by quickly. Love moved toward the set area and adjusted the layout of a cozy living room scene for the next take.

She crouched down and shifted a mid-century coffee table a few inches to the left.

Her fingers smoothed across the edge of the rug and aligned the corners for symmetry.

She stepped back, squinted at the space, then reached over to adjust a floor lamp that leaned ever so slightly.

Malcolm watched her work with a grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You got an eye like my grandma arranging her Sunday living room.”

Love giggled and nudged a velvet armchair into place. “Yeah, well, . . . it’s just not how I remembered it.”

Malcolm paused. “Remembered it, huh?”

She straightened up a little too fast. “I meant, . . . not how I envisioned it when I wrote it,” she corrected. She brushed her hands together like she was dusting the moment away.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. He glanced toward Tara, who had just walked in with a clipboard, and gave her a knowing smile. Tara returned it, saying nothing, just watching Love carefully.

“Yeah,” Malcolm said and dragged out the word with a smile. “Right.”

Just then, a voice called from across the soundstage, “Yo, Love, can we get your eyes on the mockup for the bedroom scene next?”

“Be right there,” she called back and turned on her heel.

As she walked off, Tara leaned toward Malcolm and whispered, “Told you. She’s in her feelings.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. And judging by how she just fluffed that throw pillow like it was personal? Deep ones.”

Meanwhile, Zay stood near the back of the soundboard area with his arms folded across his chest. He nodded along to the track playing through the monitors. A deep bassline vibrated quietly through the space, subtle but haunting.

“Nah, run it back,” he said and gestured toward the screen. “That drop needs to hit right when the main character walks into the room. I want it to feel like something’s off . . . like the air’s changed.”

One of the sound techs adjusted a knob. “So, more tension?”

“Exactly,” Zay said, leaning in. “Not horror-movie tension tho’. More like heartbreak you didn’t see coming. Keep it soulful. Almost like Dilla meets modern strings. You feel me?”

The other guy laughed. “You always got poetry for your instructions, man.”

Zay smiled. “That’s ’cause it’s not just sound, it’s storytelling.”

He turned his eyes back to the screen, watching the scene unfold again. As the music synced perfectly with the slow camera pan, Zay’s voice dropped a little.

“That’s it,” he said, more to himself than anyone. “That’s what it should feel like . . . when she realizes he’s still in love with her.”

One of the techs glanced over. “We still talkin’ about the scene?”

Zay blinked, then gave a slow smile. “Yeah, the scene.”

Everything was flowing. Smooth. Easy.

Until it wasn’t.

The studio doors opened, and a wave of perfume and designer labels rolled in.

“Heyyyyy, babes!” came the familiar voice of Amora, loud and saccharine sweet.

She was dressed like a walking billboard: Balenciaga crop top, leggings painted on like skin, her phone raised mid-livestream as she walked through the set.

Over two-hundred thousand people were tuned into her feed.

A ring light on her phone made her skin glow like she’d been blessed by the sun itself.

“Yo, that’s Amora from Hot Girl Hits TV,” a stylist whispered.

“I follow her!” another crew member added excitedly.

“Oh my God, she’s even prettier in person,” one of the actresses said.

Love tilted her head and squinted, unsure of who the woman was, until she watched her saunter over to Zay, throw her arms around him, and plant a kiss on his cheek.

Just like that, the walls went back up.

Love stiffened. Tara, who had seen the whole thing, walked up beside her slowly.

“Who is that?” she asked under her breath.

“I don’t know,” Love said, eyes forward. “Doesn’t really matter.”

The way Zay’s face twisted said it all. He had been caught completely off guard.

“What are you doing here?” he asked Amora, jaw tight.

She cheesed hard for the camera. “Just surprising my favorite rapper. How is work, baby?”

Zay glanced over at Love instantly, who met his gaze.

She watched him for a moment, then dropped her eyes and continued to smooth out the sheets on the bed that sat in the middle of the set.

The expression she gave him was hard, like a guard went up.

He felt his stomach drop as he thought about what thoughts must have been racing in her mind.

He grabbed Amora gently by the wrist. “We need to talk. Now.”

He led her out of the room and into a nearby storage room. Deuce raised an eyebrow as they passed him. “Ain’t this some Love & Hip-Hop shit,” he muttered, sipping from his bottle of water. “I knew today was gon’ be messy.”

When they reached the room, Zay opened the door first, allowed Amora to walk inside before he followed, and shut the door behind them. The buzzing lights above flickered faintly.

“Amora, what the hell are you doing?”

She shrugged, still holding her phone. “I figured I’d pop up, get some behind-the-scenes content. My fans love when I show real stuff.”

“Put the damn phone down.”

She looked at him confused at first but then rolled her eyes and ended the stream.

Zay sighed. “You don’t just show up to my job like this. Especially not streaming. This is a professional set, not your vlog.”

“Oh, please,” she snapped. “You knew what this was when you met me.”

“I also told you we weren’t together,” he shot back. “You keep showing up like we’re a thing. We’re not.”

Her expression faltered. “So you really just gon’ play me like that? After all the times I have been there for you?”

“I’m not playing you. I’m being honest. All the times you have been there for me? You came here for clout. That’s disrespectful. Don’t do that shit again.”

She stared at him for a moment with tears in her eyes. They stood in silence for a while before she wiped her eyes and scoffed.

“Don’t worry about it. You gon’ miss this,” she muttered. She brushed her shoulder into his and walked out of the room.

Zay stood in the doorway for a moment, jaw tight, and tried to shake the irritation from his shoulders. When he finally stepped back onto set, the mood had shifted. People were working, but the ease from earlier had dimmed.

His eyes scanned for Love and paused when he found her. She was across the other side of the room now, focused on a set design board, talking with a lighting tech. Her body language was stiffer than before.

He walked up slowly, with a million thoughts racing inside his head. When he reached her, she still had her back toward him, speaking to the lighting tech. She didn’t turn right away, and after a few moments, he tapped her shoulder.

“Hey.”

Love turned around slowly and looked at him, her expression blank. “Hey.”

“I didn’t know what that was about. I didn’t invite her here.”

Love nodded, but it wasn’t one of agreement. It was one of protection.

“It’s cool,” she said flatly. “I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”

“Nah!” he exclaimed. “That ain’t my girl. She just someone I had kicked it with before.”

“Lower your voice.” Love hissed as she glanced around. The cast and crew all were working, but she couldn’t help but feel as if they were watching the interaction between them two. “I said it’s cool. It’s no problem.”

Zay hated the way she shut down. He recognized this from before, the way she’d always pull herself inward and armor up instead of being honest about how she felt.

He wanted to say more, explain himself and apologize even. But instead, he watched her as she quickly walked away.

For the first time all day, she didn’t feel like Princess anymore.

She felt like Love. Grown and guarded.

A woman who’d learned not to let the same hand burn her twice.