LauraThe second the director yelled cut for my final scene, makeup artists, hairstylists, and wardrobe assistants rushed toward me like an army preparing someone for war.Hands immediately started touching my face.Someone dabbed powder under my eyes.Another person fixed the strap of my dress.The hairstylist began fluffing my curls again while another woman crouched near my heels checking for scuffs.I blinked in confusion.“Guys,” I laughed tiredly, trying to wave them off, “it’s my last scene. You don’t have to keep doing all this.”Nobody listened.A makeup brush nearly poked my eye when I tried stretching my neck to search the set.I was still trying to figure out where exactly Damien and Thomas had disappeared to earlier.“Seriously,” I groaned softly, “I’m done for the day.”All of them paused for exactly one second to stare at me.Then they continued working.The hairstylist, a blonde man named Ricky, clicked his tongue dramatically while re-curling a section of my hair.“Ho
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