Falling for the Star

By: Mia Madison

A Steamy Older Man Younger Woman Romance



“Sorry!” I stepped away from the rack of costumes I’d almost knocked over only to hear a crashing noise behind me. Turning, I picked up a pair of scissors from the floor. “I’m sorry,” I said again.

“It’s okay,” Betty, the assistant from the wardrobe department, said, sounding as if she meant the opposite. She took the hat from me and dusted it off. “Did you finish cataloging the clothes used in the last shoot?”

“Yes,” I said, handing her my clipboard.

She looked it over and then nodded. “At least you got that part right. Nice work, Sue.”

“It’s Skye.” I could almost predict, word for word, the conversation that would come next.

“What?” She blinked at me absently.

“My name is Skye. Skye Larson.”


I sighed. People expected a girl with a name like ‘Skye’ to be a free spirit. A lovely young woman, perhaps with elfin features and a spring in her step. But I was just me. If asked, my classmates at the university would probably describe me as quiet and bookish.

And I didn’t look the part, either. I was hopeless with makeup and hairstyles, so I almost always wore my chestnut brown hair back in a high ponytail. And my glasses added to the quiet and bookish description. People named Skye were not supposed to be this nearsighted.

“Well, Skye, let’s see about your next task.” Betty led me to the back of the wardrobe room, a temporary structure since this portion of the movie was being filmed in the woods. Though the room held hundreds of costumes, it was apparently only a small fraction of the wardrobe department back at the studio. But I’d never been there. This was the first day of the first week of my summer internship.

She zigged and zagged through rows of clothes, pausing only when she realized I’d stopped in front of a rack of leather jackets.

Reverently, I touched the purposefully scuffed black leather. “Are these… are these for Grayson James?”

A touch impatiently, she came back and looked at a tag inside the jacket. “This one is, yes.”

Wow. Grayson James had worn this. Or would wear this. His bulging biceps would be in this very sleeve. His ripped pecs and rock hard abs would look great in such soft and supple leather.


Reluctantly, I let go of the sleeve I’d been caressing. But when I turned to go, the edge of the jacket somehow got hooked under my arm. And when I stepped forward, it jerked on the hanger and then fell the floor. The dusty, dirty floor. The wardrobe woman and I stared at the crumpled up pile of leather that had probably cost at least half the price of my college tuition last semester.

“Maybe wardrobe is not the best department for you to start in,” the woman said.

Mumbling yet another apology, I nodded.



“Lighting is extremely underrated. It can make or break a movie,” the man who’d been introduced to me as Bob said. “You’d think, since we’re shooting outdoors, it wouldn’t matter so much, but it does. If you think Mr. James would look as good under natural light, you’d be sadly mistaken.”

I put a hand to my mouth to stifle a snort. As if Grayson James could ever look bad. He’d been the man of my dreams for as long as I could remember. No surprise there—he was pretty much the man of every woman’s dreams. I read everything I could about him, looked at every picture online and in the newspapers. He didn’t look bad—ever.

“A lot of it is math. Angles. Are you good with numbers?”

“Not bad,” I said, and it was true. I did well in my math classes at the university, they just didn’t interest me all that much.

“Well, you’re going to use it today. We’re setting up for a campfire scene. Gotta get the lighting right or it’ll throw weird shadows on the actors’ faces.”

“Are they shooting it tonight?” Maybe that meant I’d get to see Grayson. It was a big movie set with tents, trailers, and cars everywhere. I’d seen Grayson twice so far, both times at a distance. Once getting out of his trailer and once talking with a man who looked to be the director. Or maybe ‘a’ director. I’d read that there were more than one.

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