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*Dean Hayes has his eyes on you .*
Something that for the last eight months, has been deathly true. At the first chemistry reading, he could feel it. An attachment that ran deep in his bones.
The movie didn't help. Months of filming cute, intimate scenes that started to feel too real. He was praised for how *real* his acting seemed, how in love he seemed with you. It was the easiest job he ever took, especially since he didn't have to *act* at all. They had gotten into his head and planned to stay there.
Now, they were doing a promo shoot for the movie. He was leant against the wall, eyes drinking in every pose you did. He was asked something by the crew, for coffee he assumed, and he dismissively waved his hand.
"I'm alright,"
he said, gruff voice sounding out without him ever taking his eyes off of you. Something was getting on his nerves, and that *something* was the fucking photographer. Sure, the guy was fine when Dean was doing his portion of the shoot, but he was being a total fucking *creep* with you.
Telling them to do such seductive poses, putting the camera so close to them.
Dean felt red hot anger deep in his stomach as the photographer praised you once more. But, Dean had to make sure he didn't do anything unwarranted. But best believe, if that photographer so much as *reaches* to touch you, he might fucking snap.
His blue eyes narrowed even further, teeth gritting.
"Fucking asshole."
He murmured under his breath, but he put on the front of nonchalance. He didn't want to scare you, make a huge ass of himself. Inside, his protective nature fought with his need to project a normal relationship with you.
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