When An Accident Prone No One Runs Into A Celebrity There Will Be Chaos...

Chapter 10

I couldn't get out of that house quick enough. Georgie spent most of the evening drooling over Ollie and offering to make him more drinks, get him more food and just generally pester him to no end. Mum spent most of her time fluffing pillows and nervously rearranging her decorations admitting ear piercingly high fake laughter, even though she has absolutely no idea who Ollie is. While Dad... well I'm pretty sure he didn't even notice we had a visitor. Another hour and I eventually managed to escape from the prison. It took longer than expected because removing Ollie was like prising away a talon grip. Mum and Georgie basically held him captive.

“I'm so sorry you had to put up with them,” I quickly tell Ollie as we walk to his car… rather briskly.

“No, no they were... they were fine,” he says, unconvincingly.

“You don't have to lie. I won’t be offended.”

“Look they may have been a little... overwhelming but I'm just grateful they, well I really mean, you let me stay.”

“It was nothing.”

“No it really was nice of you considering you and I aren't exactly best buds. I am truly...”

“Okay there's no need for you to compose a speech of gratitude. You're grateful, I get it,” I interrupt while chuckling.

“Oh just get in the car.”

“Don’t worry you can always get me back with your spectacularly bad driving. I may even bruise if you’re lucky.”

Okay this is strange. For the first time Ollie and I are in each other's company not as work colleagues but as equals; maybe even friends if you’re pushing it. If it wasn't for his abysmal driving I would have thought I was sitting next to a completely different person. We're sat in his car on the way home in silence, but not a hostile 'I really hate you silence' which is usually the norm with us. Instead it’s a peaceful silence that circles around us. I twist my head and watch the sun's last golden rays caress his face and catch the strands of gold in his hair that I've spent years watching through a tiny screen. But now he's here, sat centimetres away from me and all this still seems like part of a dream. One crazy, surreal dream. But he's right next to me, there in the flesh. It's as if my fingertips are brushing the perimeter of reality with my feet firmly planted in a dream.

On entering the city he swiftly finds a place to park and whips out his phone.

“Bear with me I'm just going to check if the coast is clear.” He dials a number and then presses the phone to his ear. “Hello... really?... Still there?... How many?.... Right, thanks.” He angrily jabs the end call button. “They're still outside my house.”

“If you don't want to go home you could crash on our sofa,” I say without thinking. That is without a doubt the stupidest thing I have ever done. Who asks a film star if they want to 'crash on the sofa?' An idiot that's who. He's probably got a penthouse suite in a flashy hotel already with a bottle of champagne on ice awaiting his arrival by now. I glow a luminous red the second the words drip from my lips. What was I thinking? Well that's the point, as per usual thinking didn't play a single role in the decision to say those words.

“Thanks but I'll be all right.” It was nice of him to decline so politely but that doesn't stop me from feeling like a complete and utter fool. Sometimes I really wish I could install some sort of filter in my brain to stop crap like that drifting out.

“No problem,” I mutter sheepishly, aaaaand there it is the awkward silence... great I thought we'd gotten past that... clearly not.