My co-star, the so-called "Nation’s Perfect Boyfriend" and A-list actor Julian Chen, was trending on Twitter for refusing to open his mouth during a kiss scene. The comments were brutal: "Zero chemistry." "He looks like he's kissing a dead fish." "Give us some passion, man!" Being the chaotic agent of chaos that I am, I liked the meanest tweet. Suddenly, Julian posted: "Fine. Next project, I'll show you exactly how open I can get." The internet exploded with joy. I, however, froze. Because I am the female lead in his next project starting tomorrow. 1 In Hollywood, Julian Chen is known as the industry’s golden boy—scandal-free, professional, and annoyingly wholesome. I, Tara Lee, am known as the industry’s favorite "man-eater"—flirty, scandalous, and always in the tabloids. I can’t stand his holier-than-thou act, so I roast him online constantly. Me: "Oh, look at Mr. Ice King wearing sunglasses inside. Is it to hide the fact that he's secretly checking me out?" Julian: "Sorry for the late reply. It takes longer to type with just my middle finger." The comments are usually just rows of skull emojis. Everyone knows we hate each other. On the red carpet, I once "accidentally" bumped into him. "Oops, my zipper seems to be stuck. Help a girl out?" Julian didn't even look. He reached out, zipped it up in 0.01 seconds without touching a millimeter of skin, and flashed a peace sign at the paparazzi with his other hand. I rolled my eyes. "Wow, you're good with your hands. How many zippers have you practiced on?" He looked down at me with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. I glanced down, too. Oh. "Pervert! One day I'm going to expose you!" 2 Karma came for him fast. Julian got dragged on social media for his "dead fish" kissing technique in his latest drama. I was lounging on my couch, sipping iced tea, and gleefully liking every single hate tweet. I even commented: "If any of these tweets hurt your feelings, let me know so I can retweet them." The replies were gold. "Julian, you look like you're in pain." "Where is the tongue? We demand tongue!" "Do better next time, bro." Then, a notification popped up. Julian tweeted. "Fine. Next project, I'll show you exactly how open I can get." His fan base went feral. The comments were a mix of thirst tweets and celebrations. I, however, sat there in stunned silence. Wait. Our next project starts filming tomorrow. I took the role just to dig up dirt on him. Now, karma was coming for me. My phone pinged. It was the director of Chasing Blossoms. Director: "Hey Tara, Julian wants to reschedule the big kiss scene and the... bedroom scene... to tomorrow." Me: "Are you serious? You're letting him bully you? Fight back!" Director: "His dad is the executive producer." I went silent. Fine. He wants to kiss? I'll make sure it's a kiss he never forgets. I raided my kitchen. Garlic. Onions. Durian candy. Kimchi. Bring it on, pretty boy. 3 The next day, before the scene, I snuck into the dressing room. I pulled a stalk of green onion out of my sleeve, ready to chomp down. Suddenly, a curtain swooshed open. A tall, shirtless man walked out. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, and abs that looked like they were carved from marble. The lighting hit every muscle perfectly. I shrieked and covered my eyes. "Julian! You exhibitionist! I'm tweeting about this!" Then I peeked through my fingers. Nice. Eight-pack confirmed. I totally forgot I was in the wrong dressing room. Julian glanced at me, unbothered. He reached for his belt. I gulped. "Whoa, buddy. There's a lady present. Are you blind?" He chuckled, pausing with his hands on his buckle. "Tara, didn't you brag in an interview about dating half of Hollywood? Why are you acting shy over a guy changing his pants?" I straightened up, crossing my arms. "Yeah, well, I've seen more naked men than I've had hot meals. Go ahead. Show me what you got." I stared intently as his long fingers undid the belt. The suit pants dropped. Then... My face turned atomic red. I couldn't do it. "You just wait!" I yelled, sprinting out of the room. 4 Even on set, the image of his abs was burned into my retinas. "Tara, you okay? Your face is red," the makeup artist asked. I jumped. "Nothing! Where's my onion?" Action. It was a rainy scene. Julian and I stood facing each other under a fake downpour. "Julian, let's just end it," I said, channeling my character's heartbreak. I turned to walk away. He grabbed my wrist. "I don't accept that." He pulled me close. His face loomed over mine. His lips crashed onto mine. They were warm, wet from the rain. I remembered his tweet. I clamped my mouth shut like a bank vault. Suddenly, his hand slid down to my waist and pinched. Hard. "Oof—" My mouth opened in surprise. He took the opening. His tongue swept in, tangling with mine. He pulled me flush against his chest. I could feel the heat radiating off him. My fingertips tingled. I was breathless, tears prickling my eyes. "Can't handle it?" he whispered against my ear as the director yelled, "Cut!" I tried to push him away, but my knees gave out. I almost collapsed. "Easy there, Tara," he laughed, catching me. "Don't call me that," I mumbled, feeling weirdly flustered. "Wait," I realized. "Did you not taste the onion?" I had practically eaten a whole bulb before the scene. "I tasted it. It was sweet," Julian said, smiling. The mole under his eye seemed to wink at me. I looked away. "You're weird." Then came the bedroom scene. I told myself not to worry. I'm a pro. I've done these scenes before. But... damn, this guy could kiss. "Hey, watch the hands!" I protested weakly. His shirt slipped off his shoulder, revealing that smooth, pale skin. His hot breath trailed down my neck, over my collarbone. The camera zoomed in. Even his expression of restrained desire was perfect. Under the covers, I took the opportunity to grope his abs. "Not bad," I whispered. Julian stiffened for a second, then continued kissing me like his life depended on it. 5 I actually used to have a massive crush on Julian back in high school. Well, sort of. I lost a bet with my best friend, Chloe. The penalty was either asking Julian out or having her leak my middle school emo phase photos. Julian was the school's "High Mountain Flower"—unreachable, cold, popular. He rejected love letters by the dozen. The prom queen tried everything. Bringing him coffee, cheering at his games. He just ignored her. "No thanks," he'd say, grabbing a water bottle from his friend instead. He rejected everyone. But I had a plan. We were neighbors. One day, I caught him taking out the trash. I cornered him against the wall. "Hey. Look at me. I'm gonna chase you. Just accept it." Then I dragged him to the park where I had set up candles in the shape of a heart. He raised an eyebrow, looking bored and unfairly handsome in the dim streetlights. I turned on my light-up sneakers and hit play on my boombox. I started dancing. Badly. Like a malfunctioning robot. "Tara," he said, his face darkening. "Are you insane?" He walked away. Whatever. I blew out the candles. A good woman never gives up. Julian's parents fought a lot. I could hear the screaming and smashing plates through the thin apartment walls. "Where is the money?!" "I spent it on clients!" "Liar! You spent it on your mistress!" Whenever they fought, Julian would sit on the stairs in the hallway. I opened my door quietly. He was doing homework on his knees, using the step as a desk. His shoulder blades poked through his thin shirt. "Hey. Hungry?" His parents often forgot to feed him. He didn't look up. "We're having braised pork ribs. Your favorite." I grabbed his pen. He finally looked at me. I pulled him up. He was taller than me now. When did that happen? I dragged him into my apartment. "Julian! Come in!" My parents loved him. They set a place for him immediately. He sat there stiffly. "Thank you." "Eat up! Or be our son instead!" Mom joked, piling food into his bowl. I watched him eat slowly. After that day, he stopped ignoring me. "Hey Julian, let me copy your math homework." "No. Do it yourself." "Hey Julian, this boba is too sweet. You want it?" "Okay." "Hey Julian, don't write my name down for talking in class." "Okay." Eventually, I took him to the roof. "Julian. Be my boyfriend." He stood in the spring breeze, looking at me for a long time. "Do you like me?" I paused. Like? I mostly wanted to punch his arrogant face. But for the sake of my emo photos, I nodded. "Yeah. So much. I dream about you." His ears turned red. "Okay." We started walking to school together. He'd wait by the stairs, looking at me with those intense eyes. He helped me with homework. He carried my bag. He ate the food I didn't want. We even adopted a stray cat. Named it Pear. He would stroke the cat with those long, artistic fingers. It made me blush. Then, disaster struck. Graduation night. Chloe got drunk at karaoke and spilled the beans. "Even if you didn't get Julian, I wouldn't have leaked the photos! I'm not a monster!" The door opened. Julian walked in. He looked at me, his eyes darker than I'd ever seen them. "Tara. Did you ever like me? Or was it just a bet?" I froze. I couldn't meet his gaze. I didn't see the light go out in his eyes. "Okay. I misunderstood." He left. He blocked my number. He vanished. We met again in Hollywood. He was a rising star. I was a D-list actress with a bad reputation. 6 He became my biggest hater. I posted about my first brand deal. He commented: "Congrats on your first. I just signed my 250th." I snuck instant noodles onto a survival show. He tweeted the director: "Check her bag. She's hoarding food." I fell into a ditch on a variety show. He retweeted the video. The comments were always: "Why does Julian hate Tara so much?" "What did she do to him?" I knew. He hated me because I played him. I decided to fight fire with fire. On a variety show, I stole the food from his plate. He put down his chopsticks. "Really?" I smirked, chewing on his pork rib. He grabbed a napkin and wiped the sauce off my lip. "Glad you like it." I shivered. He was playing mind games. During a game, I "accidentally" fell into his arms and stepped on his pristine white sneakers. "Oops. Sorry, bro." I waited for him to shove me away. Instead, his hands tightened around my waist. "Throwing yourself at me? Tara, are you chasing me again?" His voice was low and raspy. I panicked and pushed him away. "In your dreams! Don't call me that!"
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