A Week of Fame

Where's Your Head?

You can't shake the feeling that you are going to be sick. This was too much. What started as a wonderful day has turned into a nightmare, and this woman was the villain of the tale. You try to cradle your stomach to get the aches to go away. You prayed you could turn invisible right now. This was worse than your friend's parents fighting right in front of you during a sleepover when you were younger.

"Well, if you have to stay, the least you could do is stop being so bitchy," he expresses.

She looked taken aback, "I'm sorry, I wasn't the one who started this. You did. You dug your grave, now lie in it."

He comes and squats down in front of you. You can't even remember when you came inside, let alone sat down on the couch, that's how badly your head is spinning. He places his hands on your knees, which you assume was meant to be a form of comfort. It just wasn't working currently.

"You okay?" He whispers to you.

You look him in the eye, "I really don't think I should be here. I've already caused so much trouble."

"You haven't caused any trouble, and I'd really appreciate having you here. Please stay," he begs.

You caress his face with a grim smile, "Are you sure?"

"Very sure, it's going to be okay. I promise."

"H/N..." Monica calls to him from the other room.

He turns his head in the direction of her voice, "Go," you say to him. "I'm just gonna grab a drink real quick. To help settle my stomach."

"Help yourself to anything you want," he pats your leg and disappears.

You head to the bar and take him up on his offer. Putting some ice in a glass, you pour some ginger whisky over it, and sip. The Midwesterner's secret did the trick, as you immediately felt your stomach relax. You could hear a hushed conversation come from the kitchen, which created a pounding in your head. An hour to go, before the news comes on, then she will be gone and hopefully disaster is avoided.

"She could ruin you!" Monica shouts.

"I'm not worried about that! I'm worried about her safety first and foremost; they cannot find out who she is!" He shouts back.

"The train is already in motion, H/N. It's a little late for that now!"

You needed the yelling to stop, so you did the only thing you thought to help it along and found solitude on the front porch. How could you not have seen this coming? After all, it was because of the media that the two of you even met in the first place. You're just praying to God that the damage done is minimal. Not for your sake, but for his. The last thing you wanted to do was be the reason his career is wrecked.

"I thought I'd have to come find you walking down the street," his voice comes up behind you.

He had a knack for interrupting your quiet time, "I just couldn't handle the shouting anymore. So much for making a good first impression," you say sarcastically.

"Don't worry about her," he waves it off. "She has a talent for over exaggerating everything."

"Something tells me this isn't a drama audition. I really messed things up for you, didn't I?" You cower.

"You," he emphasizes, as he pulls you away from the railing. "Did absolutely nothing wrong. The most important thing right now, is that you're prepared for what comes next."