A.N.: I wrote this piece mainly inspired by the met and fictional scenarios, i'll try to look for face claims for my mc and mmc here but till now, use ur imagination. also this will be divided in many parts as its kinda thick for a semi slowburn vibe... enemies to lovers, am i right??
"Yesterday, at the Gala of the century, had a lot of drama going on back stage." The annoying blonde reporter on Enews started off as I bit my nails waiting for it to come. "Including 'accidental twinning'."
There it was. Ugh, I wanted to go and punch the nearest wall even if it will hurt like a motherfucker in church. Yesterday was supposed to be perfect, I was so confident in myself but no. No, no, no. The great, narcissistic Logan Lloyd hadn't eaten his full course. He wanted to leave no crumbs. I bet he was in on this. Her shrill voice continued, "Violet Harlow, the wild child turned A-list actress has seemed to wear a very questionable outfit to yesterday's met..."
I shifted on my overly huge couch, in front of my offensively large TV screen. I was stupidly rich; it came along with life. As if I'd call it that. A doll's life, sure. Being the daughter of a big deal director and a Hollywood starlet, life threw at me enough lemons to start a lemonade factory. Plus, my mom being a second generation South-Korean American woman and my dad is a black New Yorker man, shaped me into a blasian beauty which I'm really thankful for. I had everything handed to me with a blink of an eye. But I wasn't like a brat or whatever. I didn't whine at whatever goes down or had never found a moment where I was ungrateful. Sometimes, I happen to be irritated, but I did do enough yoga bullshit to 'purify my soul' or whatever bullshit my mom puts on her Instagram stories.
The voice that will forever haunt me snapped me out of my thoughts, "The welsh daydream prince, Logan Lloyd entered the gala wearing a stunning dark red dress. Being the anti-toxic masculinity icon he is. Lloyd wore the red ruby adorned Versace dress looking so gorgeous." Blah, blah, blah. This lady was such a kiss ass. "But eyes widened as the 'Just Us' actress entered the red carpet..."
I was sabotaged, utterly and pathetically sabotaged. "Violet Harlow seemed to have worn a suit that was a literal copy of Logan Lloyd's. A dark red suit, also Versace, embraced with the same red ruby stones with a fabulous make up look to match her suit. Violet never failed to look effortlessly amazing on any met, but she did arouse some suspicion yesterday."
Why was this happening to me? Dear God, I've been good all my life. Most of it at least. "In clips we have Violet and Logan eyeing each other from opposite sides of the carpet with shock written all over their features." Fuck, I've never been in so much confusion as that moment. I am unhinged regarding anything related to that bastard, but this is fucked up. I was humiliated, stealing my role was one thing but now he wants to play dirty in the public's plain sight? What have I even done to hurt him? I'm so close to getting up and smashing the TV screen into a million tiny pieces, even tinier than Logan's non-existent dick.
He oozes of small dick energy, pun intended. Of course he was a 6'4, dirty blonde with ice blue eyes, disturbingly attractive male who gets on my nerves even though we've had only a handful of interactions. He always has that Hollywood smile and spreads joy and flowers to every place he steps in, but in my eyes he will always be the guy who shook me to reality. I should give him really, but I want to punch his throat more.
"Sources say that they both didn't attend the gala's after-party. Other sources also say that they have left in the same vehicle." The lows of being a celebrity is that you always have people questioning the tiny things in your life. And if they don't seem worthy of public view, people tend to stretch or create rumors. I, Violet Sage Harlow, confirm I have not sat in the same car as that jackass after the met. I went home so I could let out some steam and go to bed. It's good enough that I stood in front of the cameras for a well 30 minutes to show off my 'ripped off' suit. God if I didn't make that detour to get some cotton candy (don't shame, it brings me happiness) I would've made it earlier than the bastard. I would've been the one who has the impression of being the one who has the impression of being the original. Like I give a second fuck what people think, I often regret those half seconds of hesitation but to fucking hell with it. But I'm probably going to get a lot of bullshit from Andrew.
The reporter spoke again, "As suspicion grows wild given the pair's history have been a series of theories. Two years ago, both were rumored to star alongside each other but Violet has stepped down the role in an official statement. Fans all over the world have made their share of thoughts about their interaction. The question of the hour is: Are Violet Harlow and Logan Lloyd actually dating?"
That's when I closed the TV with the remote, oh so calmly, then threw it on the screen.
I grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed my lungs out in it. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, gag, gag, gag, gag. I would rather piss myself while receiving an award than being accused of dating that scumbag. My phone rang from next to me as the name 'Andrew' lighted my screen, perfect timing.
The universe fucking hates me.
I swiped right to accept the call, "Hey," but that came out so raspy that a cat's screeching would look down and rethink its reason of existing. After clearing my throat, "Hey," I repeated.
"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck—," Andrew so professionally yelled over the phone and I removed my phone from my ears and stretched my arms to not hear his breakdown. I know, Drew, I know, I chanted in my mind but someone had to stay calm here.
"You done?" I said coldly to Andrew on the line. Andrew Hope is my agent and only friend. Even though I'm so close to firing him and losing his friendship right now. I heard heavy breathes on the other line that confirmed my words. "How are you not losing your shit right now?" He asked.
"Drew, trust me, I lost my shit way too long ago but someone has to stay focused till I know who the fuck I'm going to sue." I stated while sitting in a fetal position and the now speaker open phone is next to me. I fiddled with my fingers and mentally counted to ten to keep my cool.
"He said you were a shallow spoiled brat," Drew said clearly out of breath, god help me I will choke him in a way that will break his windpipe.
"I know," I answered clearly not amused by this 'new' piece of information.
"He said you have no talent and only got into this career because of your parents."
"I know,"
"He said that you're an overrated diva with a nice ass and zero class,"
"I fucking know, Andrew. I was there when he said that to the damn director." I whisper-yelled through gritted teeth at the phone that was now going to break in my palm. I could feel the hotness spreading on my face as I let out a breath that I didn't notice I was holding.
"Vie, I'm talking here as your friend and not your manager. Are you fine, babe?" He asked and I really love his concern but I don't care about the whole dating rumor. Maybe I do care a little, but not enough to make a fuss about it.
"I'm good, but I'm a bit, ok not a bit, a whole lot pissed about this. His fucking audacity. I just want to know why and how and when and who. I don't want to throw blame but I just need a break, somewhere alone. And I want ice cream. And an explanation, an explanation would be nice." I reply to his question and vent as I began to calm down.
"Goodness, Vie. I know you looked forward to last night's met, I'm here if you need anything, Honey. And I don't think Lloyd did anything personally, he seemed too damn shocked to fake anything." Andrew reasoned, I'm not jumping into conclusions. I just put suspects and Loser Double L seems to make the top 3. But, "Well, there are highs of being an actor. You normalize being a dang good deceiver. He could be faking this whole charade just to victimize himself. He could fake at being fake for all I fuckin' know. Dear lord, I really hate Logan Lloyd."
I closed my eyes and set the phone on my lap to massage my temples. "I'll set a meeting with Sasha." He stated referring to my family's lawyer who never failed a single case. From stalkers to weird gifts that are probably from stalkers. I nodded even though he can't see me. "If you want I could set up a meeting with Lloyd's people if you want to directly meet and indirectly interrogate." That made my eyes fly open and sit up.
"If I ever saw his guts within the next lifetime, I will brutally kill the life out of his body." I stated narrowing my eyes at the space in front of me already seeing the 78 ways I plan to kill Loser Double L. But as my eyes see his image in my mind, I battle the urge to think of how gorgeous he looks. How could such an asshole be gifted with such gorgeous features.
I admit that sometime before all what happened I found him extremely fuckable. Now I gag, but that back then to imagine how amazing he would feel between my legs. Even that fan art of his character and my turned down one, the artist drew them based on our feature, Logan's and I. I, I mean my character was on top of his while he was shirtless, let's just say that that art helped me sleep better for a couple of weeks...
Hold the fuck on, what the fucking fuck is going on with my mind right now. He used to turn me on by his existence, back then. But now my pussy is drier than the Sahara whenever I see him face.
I slap myself, why did my mind drift on to that land of regret. I want to kill the dude more than I wanted to fuck him. Although—no, I'm not going there again. "Alright, babe. I'll have to meet up with Thomas right now. Ill text you when Sasha confirms a time." He snaps me back to reality and I blink a couple of times while that fan art lingers on my mind again. I slap myself again. I need holy water and a therapist. I take in Drew's words, "Tell Thomas I said hi, by the way I approve of him. He doesn't seem like those weird assholes that you've dated. And yeah, alright. Goodbye Drew, I probably stay in bed the whole day."
I hung up on Andrew and got up from the couch and got a broom to clean the TV screen debris. Tess, my maid, is coming tomorrow so I don't want to bother her. After I'm done, I order a new TV off the internet to Andrew's place and then explained to him why via text. I go to my room and stand beside my king-sized bed. I open my twitter to find #VioletHarlowLoganLloyd a trending tag, my curiosity has gotten the best of me as I tap on the tag.
Several posts of our interaction appear. I study how he stand at the top of the stairs in his dress and looking so darn fin- so darn killable. And I stand at the bottom with my suit and looking so confused. The caption of one post says, 'and this kids is how I met your mother.' I internally gag but scroll anyways.
I see a parallel of the met yesterday with the fan art that helped me through the middle of the night, if you know what I mean. The caption says '@fanartkid05 I think I found your new inspo bbg' I opened the replies to find that the account already replied with 'oh, you know me better...I already posted it girl, btw it's a little nsfw than my other work so im not sure if twitter will take it down ;)'
My eyes open so wide that I'm not even sure they're still in my sockets. Mindlessly, I open their account and see the photo. Me and Logan in yesterday's outfits while he is pinning me against a random grey wall. His face was nuzzled in my neck and his dress was hiked up his thigh and my head thrown back with the most mind fucking expression ever. My legs were wrapped around his waist and our crotches in front of each other. I had my suit jacket off on with my pant. I zoomed to find that my dress shirt was open with one of his hands inside.
Heat crept all over my neck and cheeks as my eyes grew so wide. I squealed at the art and threw my phone on the bed. I rubbed my eyes and paced around my room like a lunatic. Art me looked like she felt so good, though. No, I need to bleach my eyes. Why am I reacting like this? I hate the fucking guy. I'm better than this. I go and take a hot and long shower and take care of that mess that picture left. I admit that I'm affected by it more than I should but sue me like I'm about to do to whoever plotted this.
* * *
After the shower, I notice that my phone was ringing. For the third time in a row from the same unknown number. It called again and I answered it and put it against the side of my face, "Hello?"
"Hi Miss Harlow, so for calling you persistently but this is an urgent matter." A male voice answer through the phone with an English accent. Andrew is the one who handles these type of calls but I guess someone was desperate enough to directly try through me. I should hang up but my mother taught me better. "And you are?" I answered, sounding unbothered as I stand with only my bra and underwear. I go grab a shirt while I squeeze my phone with my shoulder to keep it from falling.
"Oh, sorry miss, I'm Alex Fletcher from Fletcher Agency Organization." He answered as I hummed with boredom. Maybe I'm an impatient person but slow talkers annoy the shit out of me. "I am in no need of a new agent, Mr. Fletcher. So I do ask of why you talk to me instead of my agent and for what reasons." I manage to say ever so politely.
"I didn't call for those reasons, miss. I'm Mr. Lloyd's agent and close pal. I wanted to discuss a meeting to chat a bit about yesterday's events." He spoke in a steady tone as my eyebrows pinched together in irritation. I blew a breath and put the phone on speaker and placed it on my dresser. "I'm sure your one of Lloyd's associates or whatever, given I don't care. But what I really want to know is why? I mean the guy has done enough torment for me and my career. So please, Mr. Fletcher, do amuse me about yesterday's fucked up events."
At this point, I do not care if that guy is a rando or recording my call for clout. But I am deeply annoyed and disgruntled.
"I do get you are angry of the met incident, but we have to assure you that Mr. Lloyd nor his team have any idea on what happened." He said in a persuasive way, in a world that I did not Logan in, I would believe him.
"You do seriously expect me that no one of his team just peeked inside my designer's sketches or hacked a system?" I reasoned with no ounce of disbelief, this guy cannot really think that I would expect less.
"I believe that none of those can be confirmed. My company personally hired a detective to investigate this. I'm sure you're rattled by this. Logan wanted to come forth to apologize on this misunderstanding, yet his schedule could not fit it in." A laugh came out of me, seriously? This guy really tickles my funny bone.
Wow, I didn't realize the circus hired Loser Double L for more hours than he can fit a call for an old friend.
"As all said, we would like to discuss the media's reaction with you and your agent. For a private cup of coffee maybe" Fletcher suggested as though we were the best of friends. The nerve of this guy, but my curiosity the better of me. "Who are 'we'?"
"Me and Logan," he said after clearing his throat. Oh the fucking audacity.
"Sure, email my agent the details." I answered in an unhinged way, my eyes were widened. I wanted to face this one way or another, whether I'll throw hot coffee at my nemesis, or move on from his grade school fights. He was so unbearable, so, what was the term kids use these days? Oh yes, pick-me.
"Excellent, thank you, Miss Harlow." He spoke like he was so fucking relieved, it brought me some comfort I guess.
"Okay. And, by the way Fletcher, lose my number." I said as I pressed end call button.