(Book 3) Legacy - Scarlett Johansson x Y/N

Hollywood

The next morning...(Y/N's POV)

Scarlett: Good morning, there's a coffee in the kitchen for you, and breakfast's on the way. I kinda screwed the fried egg so I guess it's just scrambled.

I'd just barely woken up when Scarlett started talking about her eggmergency, get it? Nope, okay then. My back was killing, muscles aching from lying uncomfortably on the couch for the remaining hours of the night. I sat up, stretching as much as I could before following Scarlett to the kitchen to grab my coffee.

Me: This is how I like it, not shitty filtered coffee.
Scarlett: Yeah. I kinda forgot but I'm hoping I guessed right. Hazelnut syrup, oat milk, blonde roast—
Me: It's good. Fried eggs though, I don't even know why you keep trying to make them.
Scarlett: I want to conquer the friend egg situation. It makes me feel like an unsatisfactory wife if I can't put fried eggs on a full English.
Me: Not my wife, but still, it's easy. Watch.

I heat up the oil in the pan then crack the egg, leaving it for a moment before splashing oil over the top of the egg as it cooks, allowing it to form perfectly, then I place it on her plate and clean the pan.

Scarlett: How is it that easy?
Me: I dunno, guess it just is.

She watches me shuffle over to the breakfast she'd made as I sit at the kitchen island and begin eating, but before I get the first mouthful in, Scarlett pulls me in and hugs me tightly, not saying a word, just grabbing on.

I drop the fork and turn in my seat, wrapping my arms around her fully.

Me: What's this for?
Scarlett: I just really miss you.
Me: I'm right here.
Scarlett: You know what I mean.
Me: I know.

She pulls away, leaving her hands on either shoulder.

Scarlett: Sorry, I know, we're taking it slow.
Me: We are? I didn't think there was anything to take slowly.

I smirk at her, and she laughs back.

Me: You know I'm kidding, but thank you for breakfast, this is really nice. You should eat, it'll be getting cold.

We sat in peaceful silence eating our breakfast as the rain splashed against the sliding doors. I cleaned up from breakfast and made my way upstairs to change for the day, still not knowing what we were doing.

Scarlett comes back down the stairs after we've changed and grabs the keys to the hire car.

Me: Nope. Gimme.
Scarlett: You don't know where we're going, so I'm driving.
Me: You're a terrible driver, absolutely not.
Scarlett: Rude. Fine.

She reluctantly hands over the keys and locks the door behind us.

Me: So where are you taking me? To my impending death?
Scarlett: You figured me out, damn!
Me: Oh jeez. Okay, where?
Scarlett: You've never been to the walk of fame to see your star.
Me: I have a walk of fame star?
Scarlett: You do.
Me: How did I not know? And why wasn't there one of those cool ceremonies?
Scarlett: There was, you weren't there.
Me: They didn't invite me to my own ceremony?
Scarlett: You're trying to make me say it aren't you? You know I hate saying it.

I smirk at her and nudge her arm.

Me: Well you know, it's a little mean to not tell me I was getting a star on the walk of fame. And to not even invite me—
Scarlett: Oh my god fine! You were playing dead.
Me: There it is. Okay fine, let's go.