IMAGINES: Celebrity Encounters Starring You (20 page)

You feel your cheeks warm. “Of course I know who you are. Everyone does.”

She laughs. “Tell me about it.”

It’s then that you notice everyone in the restaurant is staring in your direction. Most are trying to be subtle, pretending to read their menus or admire the sunset. Others are staring wide-eyed and blatantly snapping photos with their phones.

You suddenly become self-conscious of how you look, straightening yourself in your chair and hoping you don’t have anything in your teeth.

You turn to Jen, wondering if this happens everywhere she goes. “I thought about saying something. But I didn’t want to fangirl all over you and embarrass myself.”

She smiles. “Oh, please—never be afraid to fangirl! You should see me when I meet a celebrity. I become a puddle of socially awkward goop. I either build up the courage to introduce myself and end up humiliating myself in some horrifying way, or I chicken out and run a mile in the opposite direction.”

A Spice Girls song plays through the speakers and you both freak out.

“I love nineties music,” she says. “Do you remember the Macarena?”

“Oh my God. I loved that song!”

“Me too!” Jen stands up and shows off her Macarena skills, humming the tune as she pulls you up to join her. You feel a little awkward dancing in front of all the other patrons, but you do it anyway, laughing all the way through.

The waitress arrives with your drinks and you sit down, trying to process everything that’s happening. You hold up your glass and Jen does the same. “Cheers!” you say before taking a sip.

By the time you finish dinner, the moon is high above the skyscrapers and the city lights twinkle from every direction. With
Jen’s down-to-earth attitude and wicked sense of humor, it’s easy to forget you’re talking to a megastar. You feel like you’ve been chatting to an old friend. You tell her about your first impressions of New York, and she gives you tips on places to go and things to see. A group of women sitting nearby giggle excitedly as the waitress places a giant cocktail glass in the middle of their table, with enough straws for all of them to share. One of them wears a pink tiara and a white sash with the words
BRIDE TO BE
sewn into it. Every now and then they glance over, watching curiously. Eventually, they build up the courage to approach your table.

“Excuse me,” the bride-to-be says.

Jen turns and gives her the sweetest smile. “Hi!”

“Hi.” The bride-to-be bites her bottom lip nervously. “Um, do you think I could have a photo with you?”

“Of course! A bride should always get what she wants.” Jen stands and puts her arm around the excited fan, taking multiple photos and striking different poses for each one. Soon the whole party is getting in on the fun, and you offer to take the photos so everyone can be in a shot.

“Okay, one more,” Jen says, “but let’s be real dicks in it.” She immediately bares her gritted teeth and raises her middle finger at the camera. The bachelorette partygoers laugh and strike their own poses, some sticking their tongues out while others offer their most badass glare.

You snap a few more photos before handing the phone back to the bride-to-be.

“Thank you so much!” Her eyes are wide with glee. She turns to Jen. “And thank you, Jennifer. This means so much to me.
Silver Linings Playbook
is my favorite movie.”

Jen touches her hands to her heart. “Oh, that’s great to hear—I’m happy that you liked it.”

A woman wearing a pink
MAID OF HONOR
sash steps forward.
“We’re taking the bachelorette party to a rock-and-roll karaoke bar. Do you wanna come?”

Jen seems hesitant at first, but something changes in her eyes and she throws her arms up in the air. “Yeah, what the hell.” She turns to you and asks, “You in?”

“Sure,” you say, excited at the thought of partying with your idol.

You and Jen pay for your dinner and drinks, then join the bachelorette party downstairs, where they wait in a Hummer limousine.

“Whoa,” you say as you climb in. “I feel like I’m in
Real Housewives
.”

Jen gives you a playful punch in the arm. “I fucking love
Real Housewives
!”

The maid of honor hands you both a glass of champagne while you all talk about your favorite housewives and attempt your best New Jersey accent—Jen wins, of course.

The limo pulls up to a curb and everyone climbs out one by one. Jen almost trips stepping onto the sidewalk, but you grab hold of her arm and steady her just in time. The two of you follow the party inside, which heads straight to the bar for shots.

“This is awesome!” Jen shouts over the music. “How did I not know this place existed?”

The bar is dark and loud, with blue spotlights lighting up the stage and cheers roaring from the crowd. A guy with a long beard and wearing a Metallica T-shirt is onstage, clutching the microphone with both hands and singing into it with dramatic enthusiasm. A three-piece band plays behind him, slamming on their guitars and headbanging to the beat. It’s like rock-star karaoke, no prerecorded stuff for you guys tonight!

Jen points to a girl sitting by the stage with a clipboard and takes your hand. “Let’s put our names down for a song.”

You make your way through the crowd, feeling a mix of nausea and excitement at what you’re about to do. You’re not usually the type of person to sing in front of a crowd of strangers, but being around Jen gives you a confidence boost you didn’t know you could muster.

Your names are added to the list, and you head back to the bar while you wait.

The moment the bartender sees Jen, his eyes pop out of his head. “Are you J. Law?” he asks, leaning over the bar so she can hear him.

“That’s what they tell me,” she jokes.

He tells her he’s a huge fan and asks her what she wants to drink.

She looks around the bar, eyeing the many options. “Make me and my friend here the most colorful cocktails you have.”

“Challenge accepted.” He smiles and immediately starts collecting bottles from behind the bar. You watch with curiosity as the different ingredients mix together to make a bright blue concoction, which looks absolutely delicious. He slides the two glasses over.

You taste it. “Whoa.” The sweetness overpowers you. “This is great!”

Jen thanks him and offers to pay, but he waves a hand at her. “On the house.”

You sit at the bar and sip your drinks until your names are called. Your hands shake from nerves as you climb the steps onto the stage and look out over the crowd. People are already cheering, and you realize it must be because Jen is right behind you. The whole bar knows who she is, and it’s bizarre to witness the reactions, to somehow be a part of it. Almost immediately, hundreds of smartphones are pointed in your direction, no doubt filming every second. You see the bachelorette party huddled together
in the middle of the crowd, waving and shouting encouragement.

“Oh, crap!” you say to Jen. “This is going to be all over the internet, isn’t it?”

Jen gives you a wicked grin and shrugs. “Yep! Why? Are ya scared?” She elbows you in the side and winks.

“Terrified.” You consider bailing on the whole thing, but you know this is a once-in-a-lifetime moment and decide to give it your all. “But let’s do it anyway.”

She laughs and puts an arm around you. “Welcome to my life!”

The band comes to life behind you, playing a song by the Black Keys that Jen requested. You both sing into the microphone when it’s your cue, and the crowd goes wild.

At first your voice is quiet, tentative. But the energy in the room fills you with boldness, and soon you’re rocking out as hard as you can. You don’t care that you don’t have the greatest singing voice—you’re having a blast and that’s all that matters.

The song ends and you don’t want to stop, so you’re glad when Jen calls into the mic, “Can we do one more?”

The crowd starts chanting, “One more! One more!”

The band nods in agreement.

“Yeah!” Jen shouts, fist-pumping the air and turning to the band. “Do you guys do Adele?” They shake their heads and she pouts, before turning to you. “What do you think?”

You say the first band that comes to mind. “Nirvana.”

Her face lights up. “Oh,
fuck yes
!”

The band starts playing, and the crowd roars even louder than before when they hear the first bars of that unmistakable tune. Sweat is beading on your forehead and you can feel your cheeks flushing from the adrenaline, but you’re having the time of your life.

Midsong, Jen attempts an ambitious leg kick in time to the drums, but slips on the landing and falls. You cover your mouth with your hands as gasps echo through the crowd, but Jen just bursts into a fit of laughter. She shakes her head and rubs her behind as she stands back up, cackling hysterically.

She points to someone in the crowd holding a phone and feigns anger. “Don’t you put that on YouTube!” She steps back up to the microphone, laughing again. “I can see the headlines now: ‘Jennifer Lawrence Falls on Ass: No One Surprised.’ ”

You’re laughing so much your cheeks hurt.

Two songs later, you decide to call it quits and let someone else take the spotlight. The moment you leave the stage, the crowd converges on you. You feel a hand clutching the back of your shirt and turn to see Jen pulling a face and mouthing, “Time to leave!”

You try to push through the mess of people, but there are so many it’s hard to move. Shoulders crush together and cameras flash all around, disorienting you. After a few suffocating minutes everyone starts to flow away from you, and you realize Jen is no longer behind you.

“Jen?” You search the sea of bodies, but don’t see her anywhere. Your heart sinks. She must have found a way out and left you behind. You knew it couldn’t last forever, but a chance to say good-bye would have been so much better.

Just when you’re about to give up hope, you feel a hand take yours and you spin around to see Jen smiling at you.

“Come on!” she says. “You’re not getting away that easily.” A bouncer leads you through the bar and ushers you out a back door.

The crisp early-morning air refreshes you, and you breathe it in. “What a crazy night.”

Jen gives you a wicked smile. “It ain’t over yet.”

Ten minutes later, you’re sitting on the grass watching the sun slowly rise over the East River. The glowing colors sparkle on the water, making it the most beautiful sunrise you’ve ever seen.

“Thanks,” Jen says softly before letting out a long yawn. “I needed a fun night out.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Seriously? Isn’t your whole life one fun night after another?”

She dips her head back and lets out a throaty laugh. “Oh, totally,” she says sarcastically. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love my life. But it’s not anywhere near as glamorous as everyone thinks. Which is fine with me; I don’t want glamorous. Shit, most nights I’m happy to just sit on the couch with a glass of wine and eat pizza while I binge watch
Vanderpump Rules
. But tonight was awesome, and totally unplanned, unscheduled, uncontrolled. I think that’s what I needed most.”

“Well, you’re welcome,” you say. “But I should be the one thanking you. I just had the best night of my life. I did things tonight that I would never have had the courage to do if you weren’t there. I think I’m going to be a whole lot bolder from now on.”

“Fuck yeah!” She raises her hand for a high five and you oblige, grinning from ear to ear.

“So, we’re agreed,” she says with a crooked smile, “best night ever.”

You nod enthusiastically. “Best. Night. Ever.”

Y
ou were not interested that much in boys yet, but his eyes allured you.

His eyes. That was what caught your attention in seventh grade. From that day on, you always stole glances at him when you saw him around the school. He was your first crush. The first boy to make you blush whenever you crossed paths. He was shy and introverted, but that somehow made you want to find out more about him. It intrigued you.

Nevertheless, you gave up and moved on because nothing was happening. He didn’t even acknowledge your existence in those early years. But that changed in junior year when you had friends in common and you started to hang out in the same group. You still remember how sweaty your palms were when he talked to you for the first time. His dazzling smile made your poor heart beat faster and had you stumbling all over your words. He was sweet, caring, and so eye-filling. Your crush on him resurfaced and amplified.

You became friends.

You hung out, but that was not enough for you. You wanted more.

But you weren’t brave enough to do anything about it.

You watched him date other girls and pretended to encourage
him and be happy for him while you died on the inside. You couldn’t tell him anything. You couldn’t lose his friendship.

And then it happened.

He started doing Vines and getting followers. As his popularity grew, so did his confidence—and you were so happy for him. You cheered for him.

He became famous.

And just like that, Cameron Dallas was everywhere: news, a movie, YouTube, interviews. Your Cam had become a Vine sensation, and so much more had come from that. He was still the same charming boy from day one, but he didn’t have a lot of time to spend with you. That made you sad, but you backed away. You didn’t have any right to demand anything from him.

You were just a friend.

And as if life wanted to put more distance between you two, your parents divorced. Your mother decided to move back to the town she grew up in, all the way in Oregon. You had to go with her.

You didn’t say anything to Cameron. What for? You couldn’t handle a good-bye. Not when you had all these feelings for him, bottled inside you. You left your sunny California.

You cried yourself to sleep many nights. You missed your town, your friends, and him. You needed to forget him, but how could you? He was everywhere. You got yourself a Vine account and followed him on every platform he appeared. You hoped he would notice your name among thousands of followers, but he didn’t.