femme fatal | sapphic social media - completed

01

There was this quote that Piper remembered hearing somewhere, or she might have possibly read it in a book years ago. Well, she couldn't remember the exact words. It had something to do with a puddle.

Except she hadn't just stepped into a puddle, or jumped over one— no, she had made the puddle.

On a stranger's chest.

By running straight into them.

And spilling her milkshake and the person's drink all over both of their shirts.

Piper stepped back, absolutely horrified.

"Oh, oh, my god, I am so, so sorry, fuck, I wasn't looking," Piper stammered, finally looking up to see whose day she had possibly just ruined. "Fuck, I'm so late. I— bloody hell, I've ruined your blouse. I'm so, so sorr—"

Piper blinked.

First of all, she noticed the white blouse that was completely stained with a peanut butter flavoured milkshake and what looked like coffee. It looked like a rather expensive shirt. Crap.

Second, she looked up and saw the stranger's face. Her eyes were wide in shock and she was looking down at her stained shirt.

And Piper recognised her immediately. Of course, she did. She could recognise those sharp cheekbones that shaped Jennifer Jones' face so perfectly with her eyes closed.

Piper could have possibly passed out, right there on the spot.

"Jesus fucking christ," the famous actress explained. "Is that?" She frowned, scrunching up her nose in distaste. "Is that peanut butter?"

Piper opened her mouth to respond but found that no words were coming up. She glanced down and noticed that her own t-shirt had been ruined. But she didn't care about that.

She had just ruined Jennifer Jones' shirt, and she looked pissed off.

"I— yes, it's— it's good— uh, I think I have a tissue somewhere in here, uhm," Piper glanced down at her purse and rummaged through, trying to find the pack of tissues she was sure she had packed in there last night. It wasn't anywhere to be found great.

"It smells horrible," Jennifer Jones looked like she was about to gag. "God, and I'm allergic."

Piper grinned sheepishly. "Good thing it didn't spill on your face?"

Not cute. Not cute at all, James.

Jennifer Jones looked up and met Piper's gaze, her eyebrows raised. She wasn't amused. Piper wouldn't have been either. It sucked, but she wasn't shocked.

"Yeah... Good thing." Jennifer Jones clearly did not think so.

"I uh, I live just around the corner. Shit, I can't find the bloody tissues. My flat— uhm, if you need to clean up..." Piper trailed off. She scrubbed her hair back, awkward.

The actress regarded her for a moment and then let out a dry chuckle. "Are you— pulling a Notting Hill on me?"

It took piper a good second to understand the reference in her shocked state. The movie, Notting Hill. It starts off with Hugh Grant spilling orange juice all over Julia Roberts' clothes. He invites her over to his place to change. He only lived across the street.