The late-morning sun filtered through the woods' canopy, casting dappled patches of light over the picnic scene. A red-and-white checkered blanket was spread across the soft grass, framed by neatly arranged props: wicker baskets spilling with fruit, a glass pitcher of lemonade glinting in the light, and, of course, several granola bars perfectly displayed on a wooden platter. The crew bustled around, adjusting cameras, reflectors, and microphones, their chatter blending with the rustle of leaves and distant birdsong.

Harper sat cross-legged on the mat, her back straight but her posture stiff. She tugged at the hem of her shirt, a plain button-up from the day before, which she had managed to keep clean and pressed. However, she felt acutely aware of how they were unmistakably the same ones she’d been photographed in yesterday.

She felt underprepared compared to Ivy, who was radiant in a soft green puff-sleeved sundress that swayed gently with every movement.

Ivy noticed Harper’s tense expression from where she stood chatting with a crewmember. With a quick word to wrap up the conversation, she walked over and lowered herself gracefully onto the blanket beside Harper, tucking her legs under her. She leaned closer, her voice low and warm. “You okay?”

Harper hesitated, glancing at the nearby crew members before sighing. “I’m fine,” she said, though her tone betrayed her. “I’m just... I didn’t have time to change. I feel like I look so out of place.”

Ivy laughed softly, her voice like a balm. “Oh, Harper, I doubt anyone will notice.” She turned her head sharply as a few crew members nearby stifled snickers, clearly overhearing the exchange. Her eyes narrowed, shooting them a glare that spoke volumes without her needing to speak. The snickering stopped instantly, replaced by sheepish looks as they quickly busied themselves with their tasks.

Turning back to Harper, Ivy softened. “Seriously, if you’re uncomfortable, we can call it off. No one’s going to fault you for that.”

Harper shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “No, it’s fine. This is part of the job, right? If we miss the deadline for this ad, it’ll be worse than a little wardrobe crisis.”

Ivy nodded, her expression thoughtful. She reached out, her fingers lightly brushing Harper’s arm. “Alright, then. But listen, you’re not in this alone, okay? I’ll be right here with you. Just focus on me. On how lovely this day is. The sunlight, the fresh air...” She gestured around them with her free hand. “And how much fun it is to be out here with the crew.”

Her voice was so earnest and soothing that Harper found herself relaxing despite herself. Some of the crewmembers, overhearing Ivy’s encouragement, chimed in.

“She’s right, Harper,” one said as they adjusted a light reflector. “You look great. No one’s going to care about what you’re wearing.”

“Yeah,” another added, grinning. “Your fans love you for you. They’re not gonna nitpick.”

Harper exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Thanks, guys,” she said, managing a small smile. “I guess I just overthink things sometimes.”

Ivy grinned and gave Harper’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Good. Let’s knock this shoot out of the park, yeah?”

Kim, the director of today’s shoot,  called for everyone to take their places, and Ivy shifted closer to Harper, picking up one of the granola bars from the platter. She handed it to Harper with a playful smile. “Ready to talk about the best granola bars ever?”

Harper couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head as she accepted it. “Sure, why not?”

The cameras rolled, and the two women fell into an easy rhythm. Their conversation about the granola bars was filled with genuine humor and camaraderie. Ivy gushed about the flavor and texture, her words laced with an infectious lighthearted enthusiasm. Harper followed her lead, her earlier discomfort melting away as she focused on Ivy’s sparkling eyes and how she made everything feel effortless.

The crew cued them to laugh, clink their granola bars together in mock toasts, and take exaggerated bites, all while playfully bantering about how these bars were perfect for hikes or just lounging at home. Harper’s laughter became more natural, and her posture relaxed as the shoot continued.

By the time Kim called for a break, Harper was genuinely smiling, the weight of her insecurities lifting. Ivy leaned close, her voice barely above a whisper. “See? Told you you’d be great.”

Harper turned to her, her smile soft and genuine. “Only because you were here.”

Ivy winked. “Well, you better get used to it. I’m not going anywhere.”

As the crew prepared for the next scene, Harper leaned back on her hands, the sunlight warming her face. For the first time that morning, she felt entirely at ease, surrounded by the forest's hum, the crew's laughter, and the comforting presence of Ivy by her side.

***

***

The dappled sunlight filtered through the dense canopy of trees, casting flickering patterns of gold on the forest floor. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth. Harper and Ivy sat side by side on the picnic blanket, laughing lightly between takes as Kim and the crew worked on the next setup. The granola bars, now slightly crumbled from repeated use, still gleamed invitingly under the careful placement of props and reflectors.

“Alright,” Kim called, her voice cheerful as she gestured toward the blanket. “One more take of you two trying the granola bars, then we’ll do some candid b-roll. Just be yourselves—walking, chatting, you know, looking disgustingly charming together.”

Ivy chuckled, shaking her head as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Disgustingly charming. No pressure, huh?”

Harper smirked, leaning back on her hands. “I think she just called us cute in her own twisted way.”

Kim overheard and shot a grin from behind the camera. “Don’t let it go to your heads. The stars of this show are the granola bars, not you two lovebirds.”

Harper’s smirk faltered slightly, and she cast a quick glance at Ivy, who was adjusting her dress. There was a faint pink hue on Ivy’s cheeks, but she didn’t seem to mind the playful jab. Harper exhaled, relaxing again as the crew signaled they were ready.

For the next take, Ivy reached for one of the bars, unwrapping it with practiced ease. “You know,” she said, smiling at Harper, “these really are good.” She took a dainty bite, her expression softening into genuine approval. “Nutty, fruity, not too sweet. Perfect.”

Harper mirrored her movements, taking a bite of her own bar. “I’ll admit, it’s growing on me. Definitely something I’d keep in my bag for a hike.”

“You hike?” Ivy asked, her eyes widening with mock surprise.

Harper raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just... hard to imagine you trekking through the woods with a granola bar,” Ivy teased, her tone light. “More like... dragging along a thermos of coffee and a novel.”

The crew laughed softly behind the cameras, and even Harper had to grin. “Shows what you know. I’d bring two thermoses.”

Kim clapped her hands together. “Cut! That was perfect. You two are naturals.” She gestured to the videographers. “Alright, let’s move on to the b-roll. I want candid shots of you two walking, maybe sitting in the meadow, looking up at the sky. Just be relaxed. Pretend we’re not even here.”

“Easier said than done,” Ivy murmured, standing and brushing off her dress.

Harper stood beside her, towering over her slightly in height but softened by the playful smirk on her face. “Just follow my lead. I’m a master of pretending not to care about being watched.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure.”

The group set off into the woods, Harper and Ivy walking a little behind the two videographers and Kim, who was gesturing enthusiastically as she talked about the location. “Honestly,” Kim said, her voice carrying through the trees, “I should just set up an office out here. We’re here so often; it might as well be my second home.”

The videographers chuckled, one of them muttering something about how much easier it would be to lug equipment if they had a permanent setup nearby.

Harper and Ivy, meanwhile, fell into their own conversation, their voices quieter, more intimate.

“So,” Harper began, slipping her hands into her pockets. “What kind of snacks do you usually go for? Or are granola bars your new favorite?”

Ivy smiled, glancing up at her. “Actually, I do love granola. Nuts, dried fruits—anything easy to snack on. But if I had to pick a guilty pleasure, it’d be anything with white chocolate. Or fruits and cream. Light, sweet things.”

Harper tilted her head. “White chocolate, huh? Fancy.”

Ivy nudged her playfully with her elbow. “What about you?”

“Dark chocolate,” Harper replied without hesitation. “The darker, the better. And things that go well with it—cherries, blackberries, brownies. That’s my kind of snack.”

Ivy laughed softly, a sound that blended harmoniously with the rustling leaves. “I guess we’d make the perfect couple. No fighting over dessert.”

Harper’s lips quirked into a slow smile. “With you, Ivy, you could have anything of mine. Even if it’s just so you could toss it out to mess with me.”

Ivy’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she looked down at the ground as they walked. “I’d never waste good food like that. But...” She glanced up, her eyes sparkling. “I might steal a cherry. Just one.”

Harper chuckled, her voice low and warm. “Noted. I’ll make sure to buy twice as many.”

The meadow came into view, a soft expanse of wildflowers and tall grass swaying gently in the breeze. The crew motioned for Harper and Ivy to sit, and they sank onto the ground together, lying back in the grass as they gazed up at the clear blue sky. The warmth of the sun, the hum of insects, and the gentle banter between them made the moment feel timeless.

As the crew captured the scene, Kim stood off to the side, arms crossed, a rare smile tugging at her lips. There was something about the way Harper and Ivy interacted—the easy laughter, the lingering glances—that made it hard to believe it was all for the cameras.

“Disgustingly charming,” Kim muttered to herself, shaking her head as she signaled for the videographers to keep rolling.