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When you're younger, being famous seems like such a cool job, where you can earn money for your specific talent.
What they don't tell you, is that once you get as far as to be known as a celebrity, everything is just hard.
There's no randomly going out for dinner without being ambushed by paparazzi. There's no ordering things online with your actual name. There's no doing anything stupid without getting caught.
You had just gotten back from Barbados. It was a nice two weeks away with your best friends and now you were back, you had nothing to eat in the house.
"Fuck." You groaned. There was a 24/7 hour open supermarket down the road, which was within walking distance. Instead of walking, you got into your Range Rover and went.
It was a stupid idea really, you had no one else with you, it was dark and it was nearing one in the morning.
You put your hood over your head, hoping nobody would recognise you and then ambush you. You grabbed a basket and headed straight for the fridge section.
"Milk, yogurts." You spoke to yourself as you put the items in. You could've sworn someone was watching you do this, but you shrugged it off. Now down the canned aisle, you caught someone staring.
"Can I help you?" You asked, not trying to sound rude. The rather handsome guy revealed himself and headed towards you.
"You're Y/N right?" He smirked.
"That's me." You sighed whilst grabbing some soup.
"Sorry, you must get that all the time. Before you say it, I'm not one of those stalker fans." He quickly addressed.
"Is that why you've been eying me like a hawk down every aisle?" You smirked, his eyes widened slightly.
"I'm only messing with you. What brings you here this late at night?" You asked him and he chuckled.
"Just picking up some snacks." He walked beside you to the next aisle.
"At one am?" You asked again.
"I got hungry." He shrugged.
"I'm Dele by the way." He introduced himself.
"Nice to meet you." From your once rude tone, to a rather nice one, you didn't find him half bad.
"Your new album is amazing." He told you.
"Cheers Dele, it took long enough." You told him. After going down nearly every aisle, the two of you went to self checkout.
"You know you both look really familiar right?" One of the workers came up to both of you.
"Dele and Y/N." The guy applauded himself.
"Wait, what do you do?" You asked Dele, turning back around to face him.
"Footballer for Tottenham and England." Your jaw-dropped slightly. It still baffled you how other 'celebrities' were actually fans of you and your music.
"Do you mind if I get a selfie with you both?" The worker asked.
"Sure." You quickly put your items into the bag and paid, before standing next to him. Dele stood on his other side, preparing for the photo.
"Thank-you guys! Have a good night!" He waved you off and the both of you left.
"So much for trying to stay lowkey without any security." You laughed. You reached for your car keys.
"I've gotta walk home, at least you have your car." He groaned.
"I'll give you a lift." You were quick to say.
"You don't have to." He shook his head.
"Dele, only people who want a lift home say I don't have to." You laughed.
"Thank-you then." He laughed back. You opened the boot to your car and put your bags in.
"Where abouts am I taking you?" You asked him.
"Do you know where that big round about is near the Tesco in town?" You nodded.
"I'll tell you from there." He told you. You set off and the drive was full of a light conversation and singing along to the radio.
"Nice house." You complimented.
"Cheers Y/N, I guess I'll see you around." He winked, opening the door.
