You arrived at your friend's little get together full of her model friends, their friends and a couple celebrities, thanks to her many, many connections. In your right arm, a plate of brownies that you'd made, having always liked baking as a child, and in your left, a tub of vanilla ice cream to compliment it.
You knocked on the door to her apartment and immediately you heard a reply and the door was opened. You smiled, greeting her and hugging her. "Most of my friends aren't here yet. Something about horrid traffic. And yum! Brownies! I'll take those!" She took them off you and then the ice cream. "Go chat to the guys there. They don't bite. Promise."
You already had butterflies in your tummy. Last week she introduced you to Benedict Cumberbatch and RDJ (whom you swooned a lot at), Cara Delevingne and a whole host of other models. You'd had butterflies then, and it had been a more open setting. In proximity, you didn't know how you'd react. You hoped that you wouldn't get a horrid case of word vomit and accidentally say something you didn't want to say, or freeze up and say nothing. Either scenario would stay with you for years if you accidentally found yourself there.
You walked in, knowing the place like the back of your hand. You took a quick right after the kitchen and miniature hallway, and then you were presented with the living room and a couch full of Tom Hiddleston, a bunch of random people and one definite model. You smiled, introducing yourself and immediately getting a gesture by Tom to sit beside him and a random.
You sat down and smiled.
"So (Y/N), huh? Nice name," he said, his British accent alluring to you.
You smiled. "Thanks..."
He made the conversation easy, occasionally being interrupted by the random who was actually quite good looking now you thought about it. You ended up dividing your attention slightly better and being more inclusive.
"Right, well, I'm going to grab a drink. Would you like anything?" Tom asked, standing up. Wow he was tall.
"Uh, no thanks," you said.
"I'm fine," the random said.
No one seemed to introduce themselves other than you so they must've all been either extremely close, or extremely famous. Well, except for the randoms.
"So what do you do for a living?" Good-Looking-Brunette asked you.
"I'm a freelance journalist, and I sometimes interview celebrities."
"Ah. Cool." He didn't seem put off at all. Definitely not a celebrity. "So how's that going?"
You shrugged. "Pretty good. I got to interview at the Oscars. That was fun... What do you do for a living?"
It was his turn to shrug. "I just do a bit of acting here and there..."
"Oh wow. Industry's tough, huh?"
"Yeah. Definitely hard to break into."
Then as if on cue to revitalise your dwindling conversation, Tom came back with his drink, sitting down and seemingly spreading his legs as far apart as he could. You'd never really quite understood why guys liked to do that so much. Particularly on public transport. Ever heard of sharing seat space on a bus?
Tom smiled. "So, what've you and Lee been talking about?"
Wait. Hold up! Lee?! As in Lee Pace?! You went completely red and the freezing began. You just asked Lee Pace what he did for a living. You just asked Lee Pace what he did for a living! You put your head in your hands and just groaned. Both men chuckled and you found a hand on your back, rubbing it.
And then the word vomit began. "I feel so stupid. Sorry. I love your work! I just, I... I have no idea how I didn't recognise you. Oh my god. I just can't - "
Thankfully, Lee stopped you, chuckling. "You know, it's kind of refreshing to know that I'm unknown to some. It makes me feel human again." And for a second there, you thought you caught a glimpse of sadness which then faded quickly.
"Well if you want, I can continue to pretend not to know you," you joked.
He chuckled. "That would be very nice."
-------
Helllooooo I'm back from exams !!
