Olivia's POV
I was sprawled on the couch, eyes glued to the TV screen, soaking in every nuance of the old movie playing. My tank top had ridden up, exposing a sliver of skin, but I couldn't be bothered to adjust it. Who needs clothes when you're busy becoming the next famous actress?
The lead actress on screen delivered a heart-wrenching monologue, her eyes brimming with tears. I leaned forward, practically falling off the couch, trying to absorb every micro-expression and inflection in her voice. This was my homework, my masterclass in pretending to be someone else for a living.
"Damn, she's good," I muttered, shoving a handful of popcorn into my mouth.
Just as the scene reached its emotional climax, my phone decided it was the perfect time to belt out its ringtone.
I fumbled for my phone, nearly knocking over my bowl of popcorn. The actress's tear-streaked face vanished as I swiped to answer the call.
"Hey, babe," I chirped.