If He Was Your Fan (A Henry Cavill Fanfic)

Chapter 3: Good Night, Good Day

Locked in his embrace you dimly realize that your arms have gone around his neck. Your face tilts up to him like a flower in need of rain and you suck his tongue when he almost withdraws. He moans softly, continuing the kiss, the sound tantalizing your nerves and vibrating of his chest making you tremble slightly and causing a wave of heat to overtake you. You arch to his body as his lips brush your jawline and you instinctively rake his back under his jacket.

Suddenly you hear the door to the place open and you both break the kiss.

"You'd better go," you say shakily.

You see his breathing is faster, his jaw slightly tight as if he doesn't want to go. "Yeah." He presses his lips against you once more. "I'll be in touch, alright?"

"Alright," you echo breathlessly, feeling a chill as he steps away from you slowly. You don't want to believe that, but suddenly you felt like that kid at Christmas waiting for Santa Claus. "Okay."

He slips on his sunglasses and puts on his helmet. He slides on his bike, gives you one last look and starts his motor, then revs off down the street.

You turn to see women approach you, one of them an Irish artist named Hannah, who is a Cavill fan. You flinch as her eyes zero in on yours. The other is Stella, who is backpacking across the country from Germany.

"Hey, that guy looked like Henry Cavill!" Hannah says, wide-eyed. "That was him, I know it!"

"A look-alike," you say quickly. "Met him at the con."

"Does he look like him, really like him?" Stella asks.

"Oh, he'll do," you shrug.

"How did you meet him?" Hannah asks almost accusingly.

You shake your head and shrug. "Serendipity."

"No walk with us today, then?" Stella asks, but Hannah is studying you for tells.

"No, definitely not," you laugh, hoping you aren't looking as nervous as you feel. "Maybe later, though." You start up the steps. "Good night-uh, morning, ladies."

You share a laugh and you head inside, yawning. With an eye roll at the front desk you put your mask on, an appropriate ending to a fantastical night. You check your watch. You must have slept a couple of hours at Henry's. You remember awakening on the floor with his arm around you. You remember how it seemed his stubble had gotten thicker overnight, how long his unfairly are, the fullness of his lips and that they are just slightly open as he sleeps. His body is warmth against the air conditioning, and that is welcome since you get cold easily.

You head to your room. You see that a few bunks out of the six in your room are indeed empty, meaning it's just you, Stella and Hannah now. You take a shower and get into bed, opting to sleep till almost the end of breakfast time before you get up to go eat at the last minute.

Done with a late breakfast, you don't feel like going out. You feel like reliving what happened in the last twenty four hours. You feel like journaling about it, but you're a little scared to. You want to protect the experience from everyone. You want to just keep it near and dear to you, yourself. You spend the afternoon working on your stories and poetry, and even answered some emails and messages.

Did Henry feel anything?

You get a text from the front desk asking you to come down. Your heart races as you make your way there. Upon arriving you see a messenger with a beautiful floral arrangement. "Hey!"

You look to see one of the hostel employees nod to you, "Hey!" he smiles and glances the messenger. "Looks like you've got an admirer!"

"If you would just sign here, ma'am?" the messenger says politely, handing over the clipboard.

"Thank you—"

"You're welcome, miss, and this is yours as well," the messenger nods handing you an envelope.

"Oh, okay, thanks again." You tip him and he leaves.

"Your mission should you choose to accept it?" the front desk guy teases.

Your head snaps up, and you realize he has no idea who sent it, that he was just cracking a joke. "Well, I'd better read it before it starts catching fire." You put the envelope and vase on top of your laptop and carry it out to the courtyard.

You look at the arrangement. Henry had been listening when they walked from the car to Godfrey's yesterday. You went by a flower shop and you commented on how beautiful the tiger lilies and carnations looked. He laughed when you told him roses were overrated, but nice.

With somewhat shaky hands you open the envelope. It's a job description for a junior assistant to an assistant for a movie. Your breath catches. No...! Unbelievable! You open your laptop right away, and go to the site to apply, updating your resume before you submit it. You might even get it. You've worked as an executive assistant and office manager in the past. You just might get it. This is supposed to be a vacation. You were supposed to stay here, see if you could get to Paris, get back, and go home in a week or so. But now...

"Serendipity," you whisper to yourself.

You look at the flowers again and notice the card. You take the small envelope and open it. You smile at the handwritten message.

Thinking of you, Dal.

You text him. Thanks for the flowers and for the heads up, I applied. As you sniff them, your phone chimes. All you see is one word. Perfect.