Storyline: You were with your friends preparing to ask Sammy for an autograph, and when he looked up, he fell for you.
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"Sammy is definitely hotter in person, don't you think so Y/N?" Your friend taps your shoulder and you look in the direction she was pointing.
"Yeah, of course."
"What's wrong?"
"What if he doesn't notice us? I mean, you know?" You were getting nervous about meeting him, but you remembered how famous guys like girls who are calm and saint.
You looked at yourself and smiled in satisfaction. This was absolutely the best outfit you could come up with. How could he resist right?
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"Next in line," the guard yells. It's your turn, and somehow you managed to stay calm. Sammy was sitting in a pool chair beside other girls. He was sucking on a lollipop signing away pictures and papers without looking up.
"Hi, pretty girl. What can I get you?" He asks you without giving you one glance.
"Hey Sammy, could you sign this please?" You let your hand down and give a picture of him on stage. He takes the picture accidentally touching your hand. Now, he looked up.
"Woah," he looks at you up and down with wide eyes before taking his sucker out of his mouth. "I apologize for the way I acted. What's your name? Damn, you're fine as hell. Shit-I'm sorry, inappropriate."
"I'm Y/N, and thank you."
"I can't believe it, you're so pretty. I could watch you all day if I could. Your eyes are so beautiful, I need to get your number."
Your life was completed, you could die in peace now. Samuel Fucking Wilkinson just asked your number. Obviously, you gave it to him. You guys said your goodbyes, and you made your way out of the club.
Your inner self was screaming, but your outer self was quiet and calm, but she couldn't stop smiling.
Ring Ring!
"Hello?"
"Okay. I wanted to see if it was really you." You turn around and look at Sam from a far view holding his phone to his ear smiling in your direction. "I'll text you, pretty girl."
Your best friend was filming everything, and she couldn't stop shaking at your place.
