Pieces of Us {Sebastian Stan}

Appearances

Sebastian

Victoria does not do things by halves. I don't know who she bribed to get this apartment but it's perfect and now that I've got most of my stuff unpacked it only looks vaguely like a bachelor pad. I'm not lost, I have a home, and I'm back in control of my life.

Sleeping in until eight is my new favourite thing in the world and I intend to indulge in it daily as long as I can. After a run and a workout that makes me wish I hadn't backed off a little while I was filming I start the walk home via the coffee shop on the corner. I must be insane craving anything hot in this melt-right-into-the-pavement weather, and flicking through The Times it seems to be all that anyone is concerned with.

"Sebastian?"

I look up assuming my coffee is ready and instead find Matt, a good mate I haven't seen in far too long.

"Hey, buddy. How's it going?"

"Great, good to be home for a bit. Just got done filming in Naples with Tulia, actually. You in town long?"

"A few weeks. What's new with you?"

"Well, Amy's pregnant. So, about six months and I'll be a dad."

"That's awesome, congratulations."

"Thanks, man. Actually, we're having a party this weekend for my birthday. You should come if you don't have any plans."

"I'll be there."

"I'll text you when I get home. Really good to see you," he says as I take my cup.

"You too, I'll see you in a few days."

My new apartment came mostly furnished, and it has this amazing chair in front of the living room doors. The sliding screens open onto a small terrace where the afternoon breeze blows right into this chair and I swear this is the only comfortable place to be in the whole of New York right now.

Aside from the pool at the Soho House, which is more like the sardine house on days like this.

Victoria tells me this amazing chair is an Eames lounger and was the thing that caught her eye when she first looked at the apartment for me. I don't give a shit what it's called, it's the most sublime piece of furniture I've ever had the pleasure of parking my ass in and it is my life's ambition to make sure I have one in every place I'm expected to sit more than five minutes.

In nothing but a pair of shorts I sink into it with a script I've been asked to look at while the occasional puff of warm air from outside does absolutely nothing to cool me down. Matt's party is this evening and I'm looking forward to catching up with a few mates I haven't seen in a while, we've all been working away so much the closest we get is text messages and facebook. Funny how we thought living in the same city would ensure we kept in touch.

The vibration of my phone startles me awake, I didn't even realise I'd closed my eyes.

"Hey Michelle, what's up?" I slur, trying to wipe the fatigue from my eyes.

"I'm in your backyard, thought I'd give you a call."

"I hope to god you mean that figuratively, because stalking is illegal here."

"Nice place. Wish you'd put some clothes on, though." She laughs.

"You know me too well."

"Can we catch up tonight?"

"Uh... I'm actually going to a party at a mate's house. Can we do another night?"

"Not really, I've got a couple of afternoons free next week but that's it."