The Movie Star Found My Thirst Account

I’m Sienna Reid, a D-list actress with crippling social anxiety.

The constant pressure of the job is brutal, and my only lifeline is scrolling through videos of ridiculously muscular men. In real life, I’m the human embodiment of a mute button—quiet, apologetic, and meek. Online? I’m an absolute menace, firing off the kind of racy, unhinged comments that would get my agent fired.

Every day, I unleash a torrent of thirst under various Gym Gods’ videos:

“The top half is getting boring. When are we going to see the lower-body circuit?”

“Just short-circuited my charging cable. That gaze is electric.”

“It’s not th*rst, it’s an appreciation for nature’s finest bloom. Not looking would be a criminal waste of beauty.”

I honestly thought everyone else was just messing around, too—a collective online roleplay.

I never thought anyone would take me seriously.

Then someone did.

He was blocking my hotel room door, casually letting his shirt hang open just enough to show that bulging, sculpted chest. He cornered me, his eyes intense, and started chasing me down the hall.

“Don’t run!” he demanded. “Didn’t you want to get a taste?”

1

The minute my scene wrapped for the day, I politely declined my co-star’s invitation for dinner.

I ripped off my makeup, practically sprinted back to the hotel, double-locked the door, arranged my sad little takeout salad, and then—finally—opened my tablet for my daily feast of spiritual sustenance.

I have to hand it to the algorithm. It really gets me.

Today’s recommendations were exactly what I needed. I ate my greens with one hand and cackled with the other, occasionally having to wipe a nonexistent drip of drool from my mouth.

I typed out a comment: “Are you new here? The Queen has never seen you before.” I added a giant, smug cartoon cat emoji.

Swipe. Next one.

Hmm. This one is also excellent.

“I wouldn’t dare talk back to you, but I’d let you back me up on this, bro.”

The videos got me so hyped up I stopped eating my healthy dinner.

Honestly, I’ve never understood the psychology behind why these young guys post such revealing content. I might be a socially awkward hermit, but I want to keep up with the latest trends. So, I watched the videos repeatedly, even downloading a few to analyze the… artistry.

Suddenly, an account I’d never seen before popped up.

Broad shoulders, narrow waist, sculpted abs, and a perfect butt. The best part? His legs were longer than my whole career.

I couldn’t resist clicking on his profile.

Scroll, scroll, scroll.

Holy hell. A true Gym God!

He had one hundred and eighteen videos. That was enough to keep me busy for the entire night.

I went through every single one, leaving detailed com—I mean, racy comments.

“A stunning meal. kissy-face emoji.”

“Your abs look… asymmetrical. DM me. I have notes.”

“My friend says guys who only sway side-to-side in their videos are single. The ones who move back-and-forth have partners!”

“So pale and soft. What’s your secret for that perfect skin?”

When I got to the thirty-eighth video, the guy cracked. He sent me a direct message.

Midnight Sculpt: If you like what you see, stop scrolling and start chatting. Don’t wait until I’m taken and you’re listening to Taylor Swift’s sad breakup playlist.

He even included a fresh photo of his abs.

He was so bold. How could I not love him more?

It turned out this Gym God was just as absurd as I was. Since it was a long night and I had nothing else to do, I unleashed my full 18-gigabit-per-second internet speed chat skills.

BerrySweetTreats: The little cat bows to the Cat King. Long live the Cat King, King of all the Cats!

BerrySweetTreats: You shed a single tear, I’ll burn the city down.

BerrySweetTreats: Why do I suddenly have two forks in my hand? Oh, my dinner just arrived.

He didn’t back down:

Midnight Sculpt: You talk a good game. Your mouth must be busy.

Midnight Sculpt: Are you hungry, Queen? Tell me where you want to eat, and I’ll wash up first.

I shot back:

BerrySweetTreats: You bet I am. Can I come over for dinner tonight? And maybe nuzzle you for dessert?

Wait. Did I really just say that? Whatever. It was the internet. Hit send.

I was giggling hysterically behind my tablet. The experts were right—looking at muscle men prolongs life.

Despite my dirty online talk, I was truly a cripplingly anxious homebody in real life. My greatest joy was staying home, surfing the net, and binge-watching TV. It was a cruel twist of fate that I ended up as a D-list actress. I had to go out and see people for the sake of the paycheck.

Thank goodness I wasn’t famous enough to have fans waiting for me at the airport or stalking me on set. I’d die of embarrassment.

I treated acting as a regular job—no grand ambition, but no slacking either. Luckily, my acting skills were decent, so I always landed small but respectable parts. The pay wasn’t huge, the time on set was short, and once my scenes were done, I could go home. I don’t have expensive tastes; the money was enough.

All I really needed was a good Wi-Fi connection and a decent meal. Though, if a phone ever came out that allowed me to touch and experience the images on the screen, I’d work myself to death to afford it.

Heh heh.

After a few days, Midnight Sculpt and I were chatting up a storm. Apart from filming, my sole purpose was to harass him.

BerrySweetTreats: Ugh, why do people have to work?! Everyone else looks refreshed, and I look like I’m about to have a psychotic break! (This was a death rattle I sent after a particularly intense scene with the leading man.)

BerrySweetTreats: Do you like foreigners? Because I just made an absolute spectacle of myself. (I’d accidentally knocked the leading man over while filming. God, let the ground swallow me whole!)

If he didn’t respond, I’d send him the abstract monologues.

BerrySweetTreats: You haven’t answered my calls. Our child has a 104-degree fever. I carried him for 24 hours on foot to the county hospital, and you’re out here thirsting? What is the meaning of this marriage?

BerrySweetTreats: Hey, handsome. Are you playing on social media alone? Aren’t you scared? Add me; I’ll protect you.

BerrySweetTreats: I’m 63. I can still elbow my way onto the subway or fight a lady for the last carton of eggs at the grocery store, but when I see you, I get shy and can’t even look up…

Since no one knew who I was online, I was completely uninhibited. Being an abstract, chaotic personality on the internet actually made filming less grueling.

In between takes, I’d hide in a corner and secretly scroll on my tablet. The second I snapped the screen shut, I’d revert to my usual anxious, poker-faced self. No one knew I was a full-blown adult drama playing out in my mind.

But the ancients were right: happiness is often followed by tragedy.

After a late-night shoot, I dragged my exhausted body back to the hotel. I was hoping for some handsome-man therapy to help me sleep, but I saw a message from Midnight Sculpt sent five hours ago.

Midnight Sculpt: LOL. Losing it at work is totally normal. Emotional stability costs extra.

Midnight Sculpt: The captions are stolen, the moves are learned, the roses are pilfered, the courage is borrowed—but my love for you is inborn!

Everything was normal until the next message, which made my heart leap out of my chest.

Midnight Sculpt: Alright, no more jokes. Serious question: I checked the location settings, and we’re in the same city. I really want to meet the person behind this wild profile. Can we grab a drink?

Me: ???

The Gym God wanted to meet me in person?

Oh. My. God. Panic Mode.

I thought he was just like me—quiet and anxious in real life, so he got wild online to relieve stress. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I used him as electronic comfort food, and now he wanted to make things real?

My heart hammered against my ribs. I immediately logged out of the account. Lying in bed, tossing and turning, I decided even a burner account wasn’t safe enough.

Sitting up, clutching my pillow, I went ahead and permanently deleted the account.

Try finding me now, buddy!

The next day, I wore huge sunglasses and kept looking left and right, convinced everyone I saw was Midnight Sculpt. At one point, a guy chased me halfway down the street. I nearly ran my legs off before realizing he’d mistaken me for some popular young starlet.

Me: …[ugh].

I was not amused.

When I finally reached the set, I breathed a sigh of relief. I took off my sunglasses, and a shadow suddenly fell over me.

It was Jake, the supporting male actor, his face full of gossip.

“Sienna Reid, why are you being so shady?”

“Me? Shady?”

A short distance away, the lead actor, Rhys Easton, glanced over. He was a huge star, an A-lister. I quickly smiled and nodded at him. Don’t mess with the big shots.

Rhys nodded back, then turned his attention to the set.

I slumped into my chair and fobbed off Jake with a vague excuse. I just didn’t want to socialize. I wanted to be a mushroom in the corner. Leave me alone!

After several days of nervous anticipation, nothing happened. I started to relax—and then I got antsy.

Beauty corrupts, truly! Without my daily dose of hunks, my healthy salad even tasted bland.

After a few more excruciating days, I couldn’t stand it. I downloaded the app again. I had no choice; acting was too much pressure for an anxious person like me. Without this outlet, I was afraid I’d actually have a breakdown on set. The mere thought sent shivers down my spine.

It was clear: another secret account was my best coping mechanism.

I registered a new one, brimming with excitement.

Hello, gorgeous people. Missed you terribly, missed you madly~~~

Just as I was about to unleash my pent-up energy, a shadow fell over my tablet screen, top to bottom.

I looked up. It was Rhys Easton!

I reflexively snapped the screen off and shot to my feet like a terrified schoolgirl.

“Mr. Easton, hi.”

Rhys looked at me, his gaze deep, almost probing. Under his scrutiny, my face flushed crimson, and I gripped my tablet until my knuckles turned white.

He finally pulled his gaze away, simply stating: “Director Koster needs to see you.”

Before the words fully registered, he was already six feet away.

I scratched my head.

It must have been my imagination. Why did I think the A-list actor just sighed? He’s a megastar. What could he possibly have to sigh about?

I pushed the thought away and dragged my feet toward Director Koster with the air of a condemned woman.

After the director, my agent called. Sweet Mother of Mercy! All I wanted was five minutes to quietly stare at abs. Why was it so hard?!

I was finally done long after midnight.

It didn’t matter. I was looking at abs tonight. I’d stay up late if I had to!

Washing up and settling into bed, I finally clicked on the videos. After scrolling past a few particularly fine specimens, I let out a satisfied sigh. I wiped the imaginary drool from my chin and clicked on Midnight Sculpt’s profile.

For some reason, out of all the Gym Gods on the internet, he was the one who most captivated me. His muscles, size, color, shape, even that mole on his side—it all made me dizzy with longing.

His latest video was especially egregious:

Broad shoulders, narrow waist, and bulging chest muscles glowing white in the dim light. To make things worse, he was wearing a chest chain.

My fingers itched. I couldn’t help but leave a comment:

BerrySweetTreats: Wait, my phone is a touchscreen. Why can’t I reach out and touch you? Zero stars!

BerrySweetTreats: I need help, Counselor. I’m feeling poorly. I need to get a taste! Gimme, gimme!

A second later, he sent a DM.

Midnight Sculpt: BerrySweetTreats?

!!!

That was my old account handle!

I was doomed! How did he recognize me instantly, even with a new account?

I started to tremble, ready to run again, but his next message nailed me to the bed.

Midnight Sculpt: If you delete this account, I will leak your identity.

Midnight Sculpt: A-List Actress Harasses Innocent Civilian!

Midnight Sculpt: SHOCKER: Cool-Headed Star Caught in Racy Online Scandal!

I had to admit, he had a real knack for tabloid headlines. The titles were clickbait gold. If it weren’t me, I’d be the first one to click and read.

The problem was, it was me!

I wanted to cry. I didn’t dare delete the account. I took a deep, shaky breath.

BerrySweetTreats: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

He sent a smiling emoji.

Midnight Sculpt: :)

Midnight Sculpt: Sienna Reid. Stop pretending.

Aaaahhhh!

Save me!

This man knew who I was! He even knew my real name!

Woe is me! Was my perfectly insulated reputation about to be destroyed?

No!

Do you know what people with my level of crippling social anxiety value most? Our carefully constructed, fragile dignity! I’ve been scrolling for so long, was I finally going to fail at the last hurdle?