Lucky Number

6

More and more lately, fans were noticing you out and about. They were all completely harmless, just staring with a few coming up to you to say hello, but it all made you feel on edge. Every time someone noticed you, you'd try to book it out of there as fast as possible. On the occasions where you couldn't avoid interacting with strangers, your heart would race and you could feel the beat pulsing, faster and faster. After the incident at the airport, you were always anxious going out by yourself. You tried to talk yourself out of it—it had only been one weird fan encounter, just one time and nothing had really happened—but you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched and judged. Fear of fans, mixed with fear of paparazzi, meant you rarely left the house unless it was necessary. You didn't go for walks just to clear your head anymore. You had groceries delivered. You used Uber to get to and from work rather than the subway. You missed your old independence and being able to wander New York without a care.

The worst wasn't even in the real world. You couldn't get away from the attention anywhere. While you never googled yourself or sat reading comments on Tom's photos anymore, it was impossible to avoid all of it. His fans were still leaving hateful comments, many even calling you a bitch for refusing to take photos with fans. Now, not even your own home felt completely safe—how could it when terrible comments and hate blogs were accessible right from your phone? They infiltrated your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried to push them away. It festered at the back of your mind, resurfacing whenever you were on your own in public, feeding your anxiety.

Tom was oblivious of course, and you wanted it to stay that way. If he knew it was bothering you, he'd start worrying too. He already had so much stress in his life, and you didn't want to add to that. You could manage on your own—it really wasn't that bad; you were just over sensitive and letting your imagination get the better of you.

Tom was your everything, so despite all the negative things, you got to wake up next to the most perfect man every morning. You'd lay next to him, the happiest you'd ever been, cherishing the small moments. You knew that before too much longer, he'd wrap filming in New York and be on to the next project, so you really valued the normal day-to-day aspects of living with Tom, like cozy nights in, stuffing your faces while cuddling and watching tv.

"Got your favorite Chinese, love." Tom called out from the front door.

You were curled up on the couch and too comfortable to move. "Ooh hurry up, I'm starving!! Did you take the scenic route home, or what? You said you were on your way an hour ago." You pouted playfully.

Tom idled over to you on the couch, dropping the bags of food on the coffee table before jumping onto the couch, or rather, onto you.

"Getoff, Tom!!!!" You launched into a fit of giggles. "I meaaan it!!" You tried half-heartedly to push him off.

"But I missed you!! Thought you'd wanna cuddle." He planted a wet, sloppy kiss on you.

"Tooooom!!" You whined and tried to squirm away from him. "Stop it!" But you could hardly breathe for laughing.

He finally stopped his slobbery kiss attack and nuzzled his face into your neck. "Didn't you miss me? You don't love me anymore??" He pretended to be hurt.

"I'd love you more if you got off me." You teased back.

He finally rolled off onto the living room floor with a groan. "Happy??"

"Extremely—now let's eat!"

You cherished those small moments, and always missed those when he was away. That's why being with him made everything worth it. His smile and laugh brightened your day, lifting away all your anxieties. Having his arms wrapped around you wiped your mind of all worry. He was what you wanted—what you needed—so dealing with the occasional paparazzi or fan was what you'd do.