Dreaming Of You - Jenna Ortega imagines

And there was something about you that now I can't remember, jo (1)

"As of right now, it's pulling off that PR stunt because it's going to take some time. From there, we're going to see what we need to do next from there." His phone started to buzz. "Speaking of, want to meet your new girlfriend?"

You slowly pulled the file open, glancing down at the name. "Jenna Ortega. Sounds familiar. Have I seen her shows?" He shrugged, calling up the girl and her own management team. "Alright then." 

He made his way around his desk, and opened the door. You followed him, somehow invested in the file. He abruptly stopped, making you run into someone. "Shit-"

"Oh fuck-" You didn't realize that you had knocked her really hard. "My bad, mate, so sorry."

"Yeah, just watch it." The two of you made eye contact, before your eyes quickly went over her. You raised an eyebrow, not expecting the attitude.

"Already said my bad, no need to be a bitch." You turned towards your manager, who was covering his face. You weren't really sure what he was doing. "Where's the girl?" He motioned towards the girl you bumped into. "You?" You exclaimed. "Her?" You motioned towards her, as if she wasn't actually there. "You're America's next Sweetheart?"

"And you're England's-" She looked at her wrist to read it out, which made you raise your eyebrows in slight amusement. "gold medalist playgirl princess?" Your lips quirked as you held out a hand for her to shake. She looked down at it and furrowed her eyebrows. "Why is there blood on your hands?"

You looked at your hands. "Oh, I nicked it while shaving not too long ago and accidentally picked at the scab, it wouldn't stop bleeding and I waited a little too long to wash it so it stained." She looked at your weirdly. "What? D'you lot not say nicked? Y'know, like cut?" 

You held out your hand again. She shook her head at you. "Whatever. It's Jenna Ortega, your highness." You smirked just a little.

"Already know that," Albeit, she's been a bit of a bitch to you, her hand was really soft. "Y/n L/n. No need to call me your highness." You took your hand back and grabbed your phone. "What's your number?" 

She raised an eyebrow, taking your phone to put her number inside. "Only text me when it comes to this." She motioned between the group. "Other than that, leave me alone."

"I'm afraid it's not going to work like that." She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. "We both may have extremely busy schedules, but in order for this to work, we're going to have to get to know each other. Meaning we're going to hang out, a lot." 

______

"I have a question," You hummed, looking up from your ice cream. "How long have you been here? In LA, I mean." It had been a few days since you both agreed to do this PR stunt. You decided to take her out for some ice cream, gets some pictures for the paparazzi, and you both get to know each other. 

"Few years, but I tend leave often because I miss my home and I have to travel a lot for both my job and..." You waved your hand, to signify your sport. "So, in total, not too long. Why?"

She just shrugged. "Your accent, you sound like a roadman. I thought that after a while, you're going to start using an American accent more, like Millie Bobby Brown."

You let out a loud laugh, making a lot of people look at you. "A roadman? I sound nothing like them, you Americans get everything mixed up." You crossed your arms and leaned back. "Millie Bobby Brown is constantly acting and using an American accent, it's a lot easier for her to 'lose' her accent than it is for me."

"Then do it," You raised an eyebrow. "Do an American accent."

"You don't want me to do that." You laughed, shifting in your seat. "It's really bad." Your phone buzzed, making you turn it over to see what it was. It was an article sent from your manager. "Well, would you look at that, the party's already started." You showed her the text, the first picture was of the two of you just then, you were laughing in the picture whilst Jenna ate the ice cream.