The crew wrapped up, and the staff lazily fiddled with the equipment as Norris Moore hurriedly grabbed her bag and dashed out. Under the dimly lit trees, Trenton Smith's black Bentley seemed to blend into the darkness, only the glowing tip of his cigarette flickering intermittently. The man, tall and slender, had been leaning against the car for who knows how long.
Thinking of him waiting outside for her all afternoon, Norris felt a pang of heartache and called out to him, "Trenton."
Upon hearing her voice, he extinguished the cigarette butt and tossed it into a trash can. His perfect profile emerged from the dim shadows as Norris ran over and raised her hand to touch his face, "Is it cold?"
Trenton Smith gave a faint smile, took her icy hand, and kissed it gently, "You've been inside, how come you seem even colder than me?"
