BLOSSOM ▹ JOSEPH MORGAN

twenty-two; irl

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"Go, go, go, run!" Arabella yelped as she threw down a twenty-dollar bill on the table and hopped out of her seat. 

The corners of Joseph's mouth curved undeniably upwards into a humorous smile, his dimples raging just below the apples of his cheeks. His hand had been hovering over his own wallet, fully committed to pay for the bill, but unsurprisingly, Arabella was first. It was just in her nature. An independent, sweet, sometimes insane woman.

He liked that about her.

"Right behind you, love," he chuckled, quickly catching up to her. Between bouts of laughing, the pair shot apologetic glances to the waiters and waitresses as the carefully maneuvered between them. 

The restaurant was quite crowded for a hot Sunday afternoon in Atlanta, and tables full of guests eyed the two actors as they scrambled to find the exit. 

Suddenly, Joseph's eyes landed on a glimmering neon 'exit' sign, and his hand reflexively traveled to the small of her back, guiding her next to him. "We're almost free," he mused hopefully, sharing a look with a smiling Arabella.

Their legs traveled in sync, arms linked as to prevent being separated in the large crowd. "I think we lost them," Arabella sighed in relief as she took a quick glance behind her, thankfully not seeing the psychotic Daniel or Phoebe anywhere.  

However, their fun was cut short as the second they stepped outside of the restaurant, their eyes were filled with the flashing white lights from a swarm of paparazzi. 

"Damn it," Arabella muttered, not realizing that she was practically clinging to Joseph's henley-clad arm, with his other hand sitting protectively on hers.

Paparazzi were everywhere. Across the street, right beside the curb, some even walking right beside the pair. It made Arabella's heart do somersaults inside her chest, and not in the good way. 

Of course she had encountered flocks of cameras and prying questions before, but never as many as now. It was odd. Why was everyone suddenly so interested in Joseph Morgan and Arabella Scott having lunch together? What was the big deal? Weren't they just having a friendly outing together?

Well, apparently not.

"Joseph, Arabella, are you two dating?!"

"Did you move on from Persia already?"

"When are you two going to announce it to the public?"

"Are you pregnant?!"

"How could you do this to Nathan, Arabella?"

At that, the world seemed to stop. Her eyes became cloudy, ears filled with nothing more than static, and if they had asked any other questions she most certainly didn't hear them. Her throat felt as if she had inhaled a cloud of dust and her lungs were screaming. Her grip loosened on Joseph.

"The car's right over here. Just ignore them; they don't know what they're talking about," Joseph murmured, a obvious tone of anger and disgust laced in his voice. He held Arabella close, an oblivious hand around her waist to make sure she didn't fall behind. 

The much-welcomed black SUV finally came into sight, and the pair quickly hopped into the backseat, kindly telling the driver to take them back to the hotel that the producers had booked for everyone. 

The atmosphere was strange for the rest of the car ride, though still somewhat unreadable. It wasn't because of the totally unwarranted dating rumors or the gross pregnancy accusations, no, it was because of one name alone.

Nathan.

-•-•-

a/n;
finally some drama
for ya'll I'm sorry :,(