When Rivalry Goes Viral

The next set for the Unfiltered campaign was as picturesque as a lifestyle magazine spread. A spacious, sunlit kitchen studio was decorated with clean white countertops, copper pots hanging from racks, and bowls of vibrant produce neatly arranged for the day's shoot. The scent of fresh herbs and baking bread lingered in the air, adding an inviting warmth to the space.

Vivien Hart stepped into the kitchen, wearing a crisp white apron over her fitted navy blouse. She scanned the set with practiced precision, her sharp eye catching every detail. This was her comfort zone—a chance to showcase her culinary skills and prove she could be authentic and poised, even under the scrutiny of a camera lens.

Her moment of calm was short-lived. Ren Ashford sauntered in, wearing a black apron tied loosely over his casual shirt. He grabbed a chef's hat from a nearby counter and plopped it onto his head at an angle that was anything but professional.

"Seriously?" Vivien said, her hands on her hips. "A chef's hat? What are you, twelve?"

Ren grinned, flipping a wooden spoon in his hand like a baton. "Relax, Hart. I'm just getting into character."

"This isn't a character. It's a cooking shoot," Vivien snapped. "Can you take it seriously for once?"

Ren leaned against the counter, his grin never wavering. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, you're serious enough for the both of us."

Vivien groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had braced herself for Ren's antics, but she hadn't expected to feel this annoyed this early into the shoot.

---

Kira, the lead photographer, entered with her clipboard and clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright, team! Today's concept is simple: authentic, everyday cooking. No fancy plating, no elaborate recipes—just real moments in the kitchen. Vivien, Ren, you'll be preparing a dish together while we capture the process."

Vivien perked up slightly at the mention of cooking. If there was one thing she could handle, it was food. She had spent years perfecting her recipes and sharing them with her audience. Surely, this would be her chance to shine.

"What are we making?" Ren asked, eyeing the table filled with ingredients.

"Pasta from scratch," Kira replied, a note of warning in her tone. "Try to keep it clean, please. The kitchen is set up to look real but also aesthetically pleasing."

Ren's grin widened. "No promises."

Vivien shot him a look. "Try not to destroy everything within ten minutes, okay?"

Ren chuckled, grabbing a mixing bowl. "Relax, Hart. How hard can it be?"

---

The shoot started smoothly enough, with Vivien taking the lead and Ren following her instructions—albeit with frequent quips and exaggerated flourishes.

"Okay," Vivien said, sprinkling flour onto the countertop. "First, we make a well in the flour and crack the eggs into the center. Then we mix."

Ren nodded, mimicking her movements as he grabbed an egg. "Got it. Crack, mix, easy."

Vivien turned her attention to her own dough, only to hear a loud splat behind her. She whirled around to find Ren staring at the countertop, where a cracked egg oozed lazily across the surface.

"Seriously?" she said, exasperated.

Ren shrugged, his expression sheepish. "The shell didn't cooperate."

"Maybe because you cracked it like a caveman," Vivien muttered, grabbing a paper towel to clean up the mess.

As the shoot progressed, the kitchen descended further into chaos. Ren managed to spill a bag of flour, sending a cloud of white dust into the air. Vivien accidentally knocked over a jar of olive oil while trying to save a teetering stack of mixing bowls. The entire crew erupted into laughter when Ren attempted to twirl pasta dough over his head like a lasso, only to have it stick to his hair.

---

Through it all, Kira kept snapping photos, her excitement growing as the chaos unfolded.

"Don't stop!" Kira called out, her camera clicking rapidly. "This is perfect—real, raw, and hilarious. Keep going!"

Vivien groaned as Ren smirked at her, holding up a piece of dough like a trophy. "Looks like I'm the star of the show, Hart."

"You're the clown of the show," Vivien shot back, but she couldn't suppress the small laugh that bubbled up.

The laughter caught them both off guard, and for a brief moment, the tension between them eased. Vivien shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips as she brushed flour off her apron.

"You're impossible," she said.

"And yet, here we are," Ren replied, his grin softening into something almost genuine.

---

The shoot's climax came when Ren decided to take creative liberties with the plating. He arranged the finished pasta on a plate, then grabbed a handful of fresh herbs and tossed them into the air with dramatic flair.

"Ren, don't—" Vivien started, but it was too late. The herbs rained down, some landing on the plate while others scattered across the counter and floor.

The crew burst into applause, and Kira laughed so hard she had to lower her camera.

"Well, that's a wrap," Kira said, still chuckling. "Messy, chaotic, and absolutely perfect."

Vivien sighed, wiping her hands on her apron. "You're lucky the photos turned out great," she said to Ren.

He winked at her. "Told you I'd make it fun."

---

The studio lights had dimmed, leaving the kitchen bathed in a soft, golden glow. The crew had long since packed up and left, their laughter and energy fading into the quiet hum of the cleanup crew as the studio was restored to its immaculate state. Vivien sat perched on one of the high stools by the counter, sipping from a glass of water. Her body protested every movement after hours of standing, bending, and—thanks to Ren—dodging flying pasta dough. Even her cheeks ached, not from genuine amusement but from smiling through chaos.

She stared at the countertop, her thoughts swirling like the remnants of the flour that still lingered in the air. Despite everything, the photos had turned out beautifully. Kira had been thrilled, and Vivien couldn't deny the energy captured in the images—dynamic, authentic, and undeniably magnetic.

But at what cost? She could still feel bits of flour clinging to her hair.

The sound of a stool scraping across the floor broke her reverie. Ren plopped down beside her, his casual energy a stark contrast to her exhaustion. He leaned on the counter, his dark hair still dusted with flour despite his attempts to brush it off.

"So," he said, turning to face her. "How'd I do?"

Vivien raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a wry smile. "You're asking for a review now?"

"Why not?" Ren replied, his signature grin firmly in place. "I think I nailed it."

Vivien let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You nailed something, all right. The counter, the floor, my patience…"

Ren chuckled, unbothered by her sarcasm. "Come on, admit it. You had fun."

She tilted her head, pretending to consider. "Fun isn't the word I'd use."

"Alright," Ren said, leaning in with a conspiratorial smirk. "What word would you use?"

Vivien hesitated, her gaze dropping to her water glass as she swirled the remaining liquid around the bottom. For a moment, she considered brushing him off with another quip, but something in his expression—earnest curiosity, perhaps—made her pause.

"I'd call it... chaotic," she said finally, meeting his eyes. "But I'll admit—it wasn't the worst disaster I've been a part of."

Ren's laughter rang out, warm and unguarded. "High praise, Hart. I'll take it."

---

The conversation drifted into a comfortable silence, the kind that was rare for them. Vivien found herself glancing at Ren, noticing for the first time how different he seemed in the quiet aftermath of the shoot. Without the cameras or the audience, the constant teasing edge in his voice had softened, replaced by something almost… genuine.

"You know," Ren said after a moment, breaking the silence, "you're not as scary as you like people to think."

Vivien arched an eyebrow, more amused than offended. "Scary?"

"Yeah," Ren said, his grin returning but gentler this time. "You've got this whole 'don't mess with me' vibe going on. But deep down, I think you actually like the mess."

She rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched in spite of herself. "And what makes you think that?"

"Because you didn't walk out halfway through today," Ren said simply. "And because you're still here, sitting with me, even though I ruined at least three batches of dough."

Vivien stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or be annoyed. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Ren leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. "I've heard that once or twice. But seriously, Hart. For what it's worth, you're good at what you do. And I mean that."

The sincerity in his tone caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. Instead, she settled for a quiet, "Thanks."

---

They sat there for a while longer, the quiet hum of the studio filling the gaps in their conversation. Vivien found herself relaxing in Ren's presence, a feeling that both unsettled and intrigued her. She wasn't used to this—letting her guard down, even just a little.

"You know," Ren said, breaking the silence again, "I used to think you were the most uptight person I'd ever met."

Vivien snorted. "And now?"

Ren smirked. "Now I know you're the most uptight person I've ever met. But you've got a good sense of humor buried in there somewhere."

Vivien rolled her eyes, but she couldn't suppress the small laugh that escaped her. "Don't push your luck, Ashford."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, standing and stretching. "But I'll say this—you keep me on my toes, Hart. And that's not a bad thing."

She watched as he walked toward the door, his usual swagger in place. Just before he stepped out, he turned back, flashing her one last grin.

"See you at the next disaster," he said.

Vivien shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "Looking forward to it," she muttered under her breath, surprising even herself.

As she finished her water and grabbed her bag, Vivien couldn't help but admit something she'd been fighting all day. For all his chaos and charm, Ren Ashford had managed to make her laugh—really laugh. And that was something she hadn't done in a while.

She hated to admit it, but she was starting to see why people liked him.