|Pretending to Be
Author: inspired97 PM
“All you need to do is pretend to be his girlfriend. It’s great for the fans and it’ll promote the movie. Come on, Dianna, at least give him a shot! He may be an arrogant ass, but I guess that’s why it’s called acting, right?"Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Humor - Words: 1,430 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 6 - Published: 03-03-11 - id: 2895958
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hey! I know I never, ever, ever, ever update…and I know I suck. So, this will hopefully make up for all of my crappy-ness! :)
(Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Pettyfer, Starbucks, Dianna Agron, or anything/ anyone else you might recognize!)
"We need to what?" I shrieked, nearly dropping the Starbucks Frappe that now quivered in my shaking hands. Stephanie, my agent, gave me a wary look, as if trying not to smirk. A ghost of a smile hovered over her lips, threatening to peek through.
"All you need to do is pretend to be his girlfriend. At least until the movie releases. It's great for the fans and it'll promote the movie. Come on, Dianna, at least give him a shot! He may be an arrogant ass, but I guess that's why it's called acting, right?" I shot her a glare that would make babies cry. Simply shaking off the look, Stephanie called him in.
Let me just put this into perspective; what would you do if you had to not only work with a bastard, but to pretend to like him as well? Yeah, welcome to show biz! A coarse voice broke my thoughts.
"Blake, couldn't you have gotten that fit Jolie girl? I mean, look what I have to work with!" His voice was smooth, but rough, rich, but slick. I hated it already. The insult took a jab to my ego as Blake, his agent, stood behind him, clipboard in hand, eyes fiercely pleading an unspoken apology on his client's behalf.
"Well, Pettyfer," I sneered at the name, but the way his half- unshaven face gave him a rugged look was making my stomach flop, "maybe if you came in on time, and not two hours late, this encounter would have gone while lot nicer." The contrast of his British accent against my American one was like a tango, one foot back when the other went forward. He strode into my hotel room, immediately sliding onto the couch, feet in the air, just like his ego. With his arms outstretched, he nodded for his agent to begin.
"Now, Miss Agron—"
"Please, Blake, it's just Dianna." I interjected with a kind smile, while the jackass on my sofa snorted and rolled his eyes.
"If you're done flirting…" he trailed off, causing my cheeks to go up in flames. You would think, being an actress, I would have experience with the opposite sex, but having had a grand total of two boyfriends, I was just about as experienced as a 13 year old teen. Blake gave his client an annoyed look and turned his head back to me.
"Anyway, this movie is an action romance, as you know. For publicity, we need to at least make it seem for the public eye that you enjoy each others' presence. This is why we brought you two together. I think Stephanie here already told you, but Alex, you need to fake- date Miss Dianna Agron." He sputtered on the Evian he was drinking as I flushed again.
"Absobloodylutely not," he said with such confidence and flair that I myself for a second thought he might even be right.
"Oh, stop your effing and blinding!" Blake called out blandly, using his confusing English lingo. "Both of you just need to bond." He said the last words as if talking to preschool students, but considering the childish way we were acting, Blake's tone was understandable. "Alex, meet your newest girlfriend, Dianna, and Dianna, this is Alex, your beau." I think I threw up a little in my mouth right then and there. Alex himself gawked; obviously still processing what had just happened. He then gingerly took my hand, as if to touch it as little as possible and said words that could only flair my temper further.
"I agree only if America over here," he jerked his head in my general direction, "doesn't fall madly in love with me by the end of it." I seethed. Alex flashed me a darling white smile that probably won him the hearts of millions of teen girls everywhere, well, a million minus one that is.
He was coming over to pick her up tomorrow morning for breakfast, fresh and ready at 7 am, and Dianna sure as hell could not fall asleep. This was stupid; this entire plan was stupid; simply taking up this movie was just plain stupid. She tossed and turned, her words become mashed as she wondered over the future of tomorrow. Would he be the jackass he always was or actually try to be nice in front of his fans? As the nature of slumber swept her mind, Dianna drifted off into a dream world where men with pretty faces actually had a matching personality. Well, a girl could dream couldn't she?
Tink, tink, tink. Someone was knocking, but Dianna could not place where it was coming from, nor did she care. Thehotel bed of the presidential suit was just too damn comfy. Tink, tink, tink. Couldn't room service, housekeeping, or whoever was out there see that if she did not open the door, she did not want to be disturbed? As Dianna adjusted the pillow underneath, someone pulled the entire comforter from her body. The actress lay exposed, revealed in her Happy Bunny sweats and a simple tank top. And suddenly all she could here was laughing. One was of Stephanie, that much she knew, but the other was unrecognizable. It was obnoxiously loud in her ears, leaving room for nothing else, but as noisy as it was, the laugh reminded Dianna of a chime. It wasn't a snicker and it wasn't a snort. It sounded so real, so beautiful. That is, until she followed the noise to a pair of piercing blue-grey eyes. His laugh instantaneously became a conceited leer, the one that she hated.
"Who let the dog out?" I said, almost singing along to the chorus of the hit 2000 single. He rolled his eyes as he sat down next to me on my bed.
"Get dressed; we're going to the Waffle House. Be ready in half an hour." Alex rose from the bed, shaking the mattress in the process, and headed for the door. With his body half way through the doorway, he poked his head out and called, "Your jim-jams are lovely by the way." I just about died of humiliation, when Stephanie coughed rather obviously, making her presence known.
"You let him in, didn't you?"
When she went down to the lobby of the Nemacolin Resort, Dianna was expecting to have to drive to the little restaurant herself. What she had not seen coming was Alex Pettyfer, in the flesh, signing autographs, waiting for her in front of a stretch limousine. It was just the Waffle House for God's sakes! The gesture was sweet, sure, but Dianna was positive Blake had put him up to this. Someone as egotistical as Alex would never outwardly show kindness, that much she was sure of. She shoved past the throng of tweens, shrieking at the pure sight of the British Adonis. Dianna slid into the car with difficulty; screaming fans trying to touch her hair, some grabbing her dress. Her date, she shivered at the thought of what this was, continued to enjoy the attention from the devout supporters. The car was nicely furnished with a sleek leather sofa stretching from one side to the other and a flat screen right smack dab in the middle. A mini fridge stocked with assorted liquors and wines sat in the far corner, but the actress didn't dare touch them this early in the morning; she wasn't much of a drinker anyways. Soon enough, but all to soon as well, Alexander pushed the final fans away, much to the girl's liking, and rushed into the limo before others could come.
"Newbie," she said, hoping to take a jab at his ego. Instead he responded with something that would only make his self-esteem soar,
"What can I say? I'm a man of the people". She rolled her eyes as the tedious journey began. Alex sorted though the alcohols and picked a small, but vibrant glass bottle: tequila.
"So early? Your life really must suck," Dianna feigned sympathy, but in reality, it was more pity than anything.
"No drinks at all? You really must have a terrible sex life… or is that just nonexistent?" he countered.