I wiped my hands on my high-waisted skinny jeans. I played with my press tag, cursing the fact that my hands were shaking so much.
"Y/N."
I looked up to see Eric, my cameraman, smiling sweetly at me. "You've done this time and time again. Interviewing is just asking questions."
"I know," I sighed. I cleared my throat, shoving my hands into my back pockets. "But this is the Red Carpet. I can't help but feel underdressed."
"I think you look great," he tried to reassure. "Most cameramen are in shorts. You are wearing a nice pair of slacks and a beautiful blouse. You look more professional than most of these press badges."
"Thanks, Eric," I chuckled.
I was about to turn around, back towards the red carpet, but Eric stopped me again.
"Hey," he said softly. "You have nothing to worry about. I've seen you give interviews. The second the camera is rolling, you go into a routine. You ask the right questions, you give them time to think about their answers, and you push them when they're holding back. I've also heard what the actors and actresses say about you after. They always comment on how polite you were and how interesting your questions are. You've got nothing to worry about. Especially when you're after Asshole Aaron."
We laughed as we looked over towards the guy who interviews for Tiger Beat. I used to work there until Seventeen Magazine approached me after I interviewed Blake Lively at her Age of Adaline premiere.
Suddenly, people started shouting questions. I couldn't see who was at the beginning of the red carpet, but I could tell from the flashes that it had started. Eric sent me a wink before grabbing his camera.
The night went on with me interviewing people. Just like Eric said, as soon as we started, I got right into my usual interview rhythm. I asked all the right questions and got almost all the answers I wanted. I've gotten to the point where I know when I need to let something go. There are some things that these actors will never admit. At least, not on camera.
"Heads up," Eric whispered after Charlie Puth left us. "Three actors, same show, crazy love-triangle tension."
"Noted," I chuckled. I turned just as Charlie Heaton, Natalia Dyer, and Joe Keery walked over.
"Good evening," I greeted. "I'm Y/N with Seventeen Magazine. How are your nights so far?"
"Wow," Joe chuckled. "An interviewer asking us about our night instead of jumping into the topic of our show."
"Strange," Charlie added.
"How is that strange?" I asked.
"We're not used to the interviewer being nice," Natalia chuckled.
After that, we started the interview. I asked them about their show, their favorite scenes, and their costars.
"What about you?" Joe asked.
"What about me?" I asked with a small laugh.
"Well, you know everything about us and we know nothing about you," he teased.
"You can flirt with the interview girl later," Charlie teased.
"Her name is Y/N," Joe corrected.
"Sorry, Y/N," Charlie said, annunciating my name. "We've gotta keep moving down the line, Joe."
"It was nice to meet you, Y/N," Natalia smiled before she and Charlie walked away.
I blushed when I noticed that Joe was still in front of me. "It was really nice to meet you," he smiled.
"It was nice to meet you as well," I said, trying to remain professional.
"Maybe I'll meet you again."
"Maybe."
He sent me a teasing wink before turning and following his costars. I cleared my throat and turned towards Eric. My face burned when I saw he was holding back his smile.
"Do the actors always flirt that much?" I asked, trying to sound more annoyed than I was.
I looked up to see my cameraman smirking as he glanced over at Joe. My blush brightened when I made eye contact with Joe who was looking at me from over his shoulder. I cleared my throat before looking back at an overly amused Eric.
"Nope," he chuckled. "Never that much."
* * * * *
After the show, Eric and I attended the after-party. I grabbed a drink and started talking to a few of the other reporters I knew. We were in the middle of talking when I noticed them looking behind me.
"What?" I laughed.
"You've got a secret admirer," Anna chuckled. I looked over my shoulder to see Joe staring at me from across the room. I turned to hide my blush but couldn't hide it from my friends.
"He's coming over," Julie giggled. I opened my mouth to ask them to stay, but they immediately left me.
"Where are your friends going?"
I turned around and bit back my blush. "No idea," I chuckled.
"They must've seen me coming and ran for the hills," he joked.
"I guess so." I cleared my throat, not sure what else to say. To be honest, I wasn't even sure why he was talking to me right now.
"How's your night?" He asked. "Anyone causing you problems?"
"It's been good," I shrugged. I smirked when I got an idea. "I did have one guy who seemed to be a little cheeky?"
"Is that so?" He played along.
"Yeah," I sighed. "And he seemed to be watching me all night."
"Strange," he said, the teasing tone of his voice changing slightly.
When neither one of us said anything, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. And it wasn't smooth or flirty.
"Of all the people at this party, why are you talking to me?"
"What do you mean?" He asked with a small chuckle. His smile dropped when he saw that I wasn't laughing.
"Y/N. . ."
How did he remember my name?
"I just don't understand," I cut him off. "There are plenty of other famous people here that you could be talking to. Why me?"
"Why not?" He asked, still trying to joke. "Why wouldn't I want to talk to you and get to know you better?"
He officially stopped joking when I looked away. I sucked in a breath when he reached over and grabbed my hand.
"Y/N, I'm not the kind of guy who only talks to other famous people," he defended himself. "I care about who the person is, not about their job or their social status. It's gotten to the point where after one conversation, I can tell what kind of person they are."
"Really?" I caught myself asking before I could stop it.
"Really," he smiled. "And you, Y/N, are a great person. Most people in your job allow Hollywood to take over. But you haven't allowed it to change you. I think that's pretty amazing. Not a lot of people are able to resist what Hollywood gives."
"Have you?"
"I try not to," he shrugged.
"I think you have," I tried to reassure him.
"Really?" It was his turn to ask.
"Well, yeah," I chuckled. "You're talking to me instead of getting drunk with your costars."
"Can I take you to dinner?" He blurted out. He laughed as he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "I mean. . . You don't. . ."
"I'd love to," I cut him off. He looked at me with a small smile on his face.
"Great," he chuckled. "Tomorrow night. 7 o'clock?"
"That works for me."