Working at Sony was Y/N's dream, but she didn't expect her new boss to loan her out to assist one of the most famous actors of her generation on his new movie.
A week into your new job and you were already starting to feel the strain of the "movie star" life. You now understood that it wasn't all as glamorous as television and film had made it out to be. Tom would have to constantly change his sleeping schedule, shooting at night sometimes and other times during the day, and seeing that you're his assistant, you had to change yours as well. Not to mention the fifteen hour days that would take a serious toll on anybody. Your body wasn't used to this regimen of work, but overall, you couldn't bring yourself to complain seeing as you get to hang out with one of your favorite actors on a daily basis and the pay is insane.
Late on a Saturday night, you stumbled into your apartment, soaking wet from the rain that was covering London. You had just returned from a long week in Hertfordshire, catering to Tom's needs as he began filming Spider-Man: Far From Home. Tom had put you up in a hotel and kept his promise that he would take care of your meals and necessities while on location, but you didn't expect the physical toll that the job would have on you.
Your cardigan clung to your arms as you ripped it from your body, the release of the wet fabric causing goosebumps to arise on your skin. A shiver ran up you as you made your way into the dimly lit living space, slowly stripping off each piece of soaked clothing. The last to go was your skinny jeans which were supposed to be light wash, but the rain had colored them a deep blue. You threw the pile of wet clothing into the washer that was settled on the far side of your kitchen before prancing nakedly to your bathroom so you could shower and hopefully warm up.
The warm water from the shower was welcomed by your sore and freezing body. You felt your long week melt away from your mind and flow with the water down the drain, but as you ran your loofah over your stomach, you couldn't help but think of Tom. His perfect smile was all you had seen for the last six days and his infectious laugh had replayed in your mind over and over again for 144 hours, seemingly non-stop.
No. He's my boss. You repeated to yourself every time a thought about him crept its way into your mind's eye. His attractiveness in itself wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't so damn sweet all the time. You couldn't help but think about him in a sweet, domestic setting, playing with his dog and coming home to you every night, but you knew that a relationship with him could ruin your career and that was not something you could let happen.
Your phone was on the counter next to the sink when you heard the ping of a text message. You groaned, trying to hurry up with your shower so you could see if you were needed by Mr. Holland.
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You wrapped a towel around yourself, making your way to the sink without slipping on the drips off water that fell from your own body. You picked up your phone, seeing his name on the screen.
A smile spread across your lips as you debated on responding. You decided against it, for fear that you would look too much like a love-struck girl if you responded too quickly. You retreated from your bathroom to your bedroom, pulling on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of comfortable panties to spend the remainder of your night in.
