Showmance.

Oh. My. God. Hands down, I thought he was the hottest guy on set. He was tall, had blue eyes that seemed to change shades like the summer sky, and when he smiled, like really smiled, he had the cutest dimples ever. I would smile when those dimples came out. They were so deep I could see them from across the room.

I'd study him from afar, watching him when I didn't think anyone would notice. Not only was he super cute, but he was super nice to everyone, too. He was friendly with people from every department and hung out with everybody, from the PAs to the security guards.

And we must've been on the same snacking schedule because I'd often find myself perusing the crafty table with him. It sounds silly to say, but I cherished those moments. They were the favorite part of my day.

Sometimes, while waiting between lighting set ups, I'd "casually" maneuver myself to where he'd be hanging out. I'd strike up a conversation and we'd joke around a little bit. I'd mess around with the little knick-knacks he kept on his carts and he'd draw silly pictures on the tools from my belt.

I obviously wasn't the only one who was interested in him. One day, a pretty blonde showed up in his department. The new day-player seemed to sit up a little straighter whenever he was around and she'd try to strike up a conversation. He didn't seem to mind talking to her and together, they looked like they'd make a good looking couple. The kind you might find posing with a puppy inside the new picture frame you just bought. They looked that good together.

I passed by them on my way to the craft service table one day when I heard him quickly end the conversation and in seconds he was walking next to me. He put his arms around my shoulders as we walked and asked what we were eating that day. I brushed it off as him just being hungry and playful, but I was secretly elated that not only did he have his arm around me, but he ditched a conversation with a pretty girl for me.

Soon after that, my favorite part of the day was when we'd see each other in the morning when we got to work. His whole face would light up like he was excited to see me and he always pulled me in for a hug. And if no one was around, he'd keep the hug extra long, until it was almost like the hug had already ended and now he was just holding me. Sometimes, I'd bury my fact in his chest and just enjoy the feeling of his arms around me. It was nice. Really nice. And the best way to start the day.

Eventually, we started spending our lunch times together. Normally, everyone hates hour long lunches, but he and I loved them on this show. We'd spend the extra time just talking over cups of coffee, or we'd just walk around the neighborhood we were shooting in.

On really long days when we both were feeling kind of tired, like all exhausted crew members, we'd search for a place to take a nap. When we'd find a quiet, secluded place to lie down, we'd cuddle as we slept. Him with his arms around me and me with my face in the crook of his neck, it seemed like we just fit. It felt like we were the only two people in the world during moments like this. I felt safe with him. I felt like I belonged there.

Lunch times were now my new favorite part of the day.

It was here in one of our napping nests that he first kissed me. It was soft, barely a whisper on my lips but that was enough to make me want more. I absolutely kissed him back.

By this time, our show was starting to wind down. With only a couple weeks of shooting left, everyone was starting to talk about which project they'd hope to move on to next. Meanwhile, in our lunch time hideouts, we'd kiss, nap, and talk about our own plans for when the show ended.

I'd tell him how sad I'll be to not see him every day and he'd tell me that we'd find a way to keep what we have going, especially since neither of us had another job lined up.

"Once this show is over, I'm going to take you out on a date," he'd tell me, "So we're absolutely still going to see each other after wrap. We'll figure it out."

I'd nod in agreement, but sometimes, he'd say that almost pleadingly, and I never knew if he was trying to convince me or if he was trying to convince himself of our plan.

Time passed way too quickly and before I knew it, our last day of shooting was here. We spent our last lunch curled up in each others arms, talking about our soon to be first real date.

"So, when are you free?"
"I'm scheduled for a few days of wrap, so I'll be free as a bird by next Wednesday."
"Great," he said, "I'll be done before that, so I'll call you early next week and we'll get a plan going."

I nodded and kissed him. I could feel his smile on my lips.

A few hours later, our show ended. And a few days after that, my department was done wrapping out. And a few days after that, I still hadn't heard from him.

What we had ended up being a "Showmance." A flirtation and romance that has an expiration date that coincides with the show's. A relationship that only exists in the confines of a bubble where you're around each other 12+ hours a day, 5 days a week.

I guess he and I weren't meant to exist in the real world.

I was absolutely serious about continuing our relationship after we wrapped and for a while, I'd wondered if it was me. If I had done something wrong or off putting. Or did I just miss the signs that pointed to him being non-committal? Did he just tell me what I wanted to hear? Or did he really mean those things he'd whisper in my ear, but just not enough to last through the convenience of the show?

Whatever it was, it was obvious that I was way more in to our "relationship" than the other way around and I stopped checking my phone for messages from him. I stopped trying to figure out what went wrong. I stopped making imaginary excuses for him, like maybe he's just really busy or maybe he lost my number or maybe his text got lost in the digital ether. But the truth is, if he really wanted to get a hold of me, he could. I'm not that hard to find.

I could have been his so easily. If only he felt the same way.

And with that, I let him go. I let the show go. I let go of our hideouts, our walks, our lunch times. I let go of the stolen glances from across the room. The winks he'd send my way when no one was watching. The sweet nothings he'd whisper to me. The inside jokes. The hope that he'd finally mutherfuckin' call me. Like a dandelion in the wind, I stopped holding on to the promises that I shouldn't have believed. I let them go.

Months later, I'm digging through my tool bag and pause when I find one that he had doodled on. The Sharpie marks had faded to almost nothing, but it was enough to remind me of him, the show, and the moments we shared in what feels like a million jobs ago. I wonder if he ever thinks of us. I wonder if he still keeps those knick-knacks on his carts and do they remind him of me? Does he smile if they do? I haven't seen him since, but it's a small industry and I'm sure it's only a matter of time before our paths cross again.

Until then, I hope he's doing well and that he's somewhere smiling that megawatt smile of his. The one that makes his dimples so deep I want to poke my finger in them. The one that I realized later on, he never did around me, even when it was just the two of us.