“So that’s your trailer,” Jon, the director, said, gesturing toward a modest structure. “You need to be here at 6:30 AM sharp every day. We’ll work in chunks – 6:30 to 9:00, then 12:00 to 2:30, and finally 5:00 to 7:00. We might need you on set in between those times, so be ready.”
I stood there, listening with Zendaya beside me, scrolling through her phone. The logistics felt overwhelming, a wave of potential chaos.
I glanced over Jon’s shoulder and saw Tom Holland. He was trying on his Spider-Man suit. I resisted the urge to gawk, forcing my gaze to remain steady. He caught my eye, a flash of blue spandex and youthful energy. He performed a backflip as someone spoke to him, landing with a grin and a wave.
Panic seized me. I waved back, a hesitant, awkward flicker of my hand. He smiled. Tom Holland smiled *at me*.
Now I stood frozen, a stupid grin plastered on my face. Great. First day, already an incompetent mess. Good going.
“And that’s all there is to it,” Jon said, his tone implying a level of detail I hadn't grasped. I frowned slightly, realizing I’d zoned out mid-conversation.
Jon looked at me for confirmation. I nodded, blindly, unsure what I was agreeing to.
Jon walked away, and Zendaya turned to face me, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.
“I saw everything that just happened,” she said smugly.
“What do you mean?” I asked innocently.
“You’ve got a crush on Spider-Boy,” she laughed, grabbing my hand.
“What are you doing–” I began, but she cut me off, dragging me toward Tom.
“No, Zendaya, please don’t,” I pleaded, trying to wrench my hand from her grasp.
“Hey, Thomas,” Zendaya said, ignoring my protests.
“Five minutes into shooting and you’re already annoying me,” Tom groaned, his tone playful but firm.
“Pleasure,” Zendaya said, then, with a flourish, “This is YN.” She motioned me forward.
“Hi,” I whispered, shuffling my feet, mortified.
“Hi, YN,” Tom said, his smile warm and genuine.
“YN has a little crush on you,” Zendaya blurted out, her voice dripping with mischief.
I gasped and elbowed her hard in the ribs. She giggled and pushed me closer to Tom.
“Why don’t you two get to know each other while I go get some food?” she flicked her hand dismissively and walked away.
I looked at the ground, then at Tom, then back at the ground.
“You okay?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, just a bit awkward around famous people,” I replied, injecting a touch of sarcasm.
“Finally!” He exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“What?” I asked, surprised.
“Finally, someone who understands my British sarcasm. Apart from Harrison over there,” he gestured to Harrison Osterfield, who was currently stuffing a donut into his mouth.
“We Brits gotta stick together,” I laughed, relief washing over me.
“Do you wanna hang out? I’ve got a half-hour break before I have to be on set,” Tom offered.
“Sure, I’ve got 25 minutes,” I said, all shyness evaporating.
We climbed into Tom’s car, and he started driving. “Where are we going?” I asked, staring out the window.
“It’s a surprise,” Tom said, adopting a slightly exaggerated American accent.
“Oh, that sounds…weird,” I laughed, attempting a similar accent. “Let’s play basketball!” The words felt awkward, a clumsy imitation of the confidence I felt bubbling inside. Tom laughed and pulled into a parking lot.
“Birch café, best muffins in America if I do say so myself,” he declared with a grin.
“I’m sure you do,” I said, returning his smile.
We walked into the café and settled at a small table. Tom offered to get us muffins and hot chocolate.
“Okay,” he said, placing a chocolate chip muffin and a steaming mug in front of me.
“So, tell me, YN,” he said, settling into his seat. “What’s your story?”
“What do you mean, Spider-boy?” I replied, swirling the milk in my cup, watching the patterns form.
“Why are you here?”
“Isn’t that everyone’s question in life?” I said, making a cool pattern effect.
“I mean, why are you in America? What’s your life story?” he asked, his gaze intense. “Who are you, really?”
“Very spiritual,” I laughed, putting my mug down. “Erm, okay. I’m YN LN. I have two older sisters, Phoebe, who’s 25, and Anna, who’s 23. I have a younger brother, Ethan, who’s 19, and two younger brothers, Lucas and Caleb, twins who are eight. Quite a large age gap. I have a puppy named Charlie. I’m a makeup artist. I skipped years three, four, and five, then skipped year eight, so I’m young and have been to college and Uni. I live in Sevenoaks. And full disclosure, I’ve had a crush on you since I was thirteen.”
“Wow,” Tom said, his eyes wide. “Thirteen!”
I whacked his arm. “Shut up!” I blushed furiously, ducking my head down.
“You’re cute when you blush,” Tom said, looking at me closely.
“Anyway, we’d better get going,” I said, mortified.
“Okay, but I’ll see you tomorrow at 6:30,” he said, standing up.
“What do you mean?” I said, confused. “I have to work.”
“Yeah, I’m the one whose makeup you’re doing,” he said, looking at me. “How did you not know that?”
I blushed again. “Erm, well, I was kinda distracted when Jon was telling me what I was doing.”
Tom laughed and saluted, then left the café, leaving me dumbfounded.
Zendaya walked in, squealing. “Eeeeee!” I covered my ears and focused on her.
“You just went on a date,” she said quickly, jumping up and down.
“No, I didn’t,” I said, shocked.
“You totally did.”
“No, we just met, and I’ve never even been on a date.”
“What?” Her mouth dropped open. I shrugged lightly and threw my muffin wrapper in the bin.
“What do you mean, no one’s ever asked you out?” Zendaya said, shocked.
“I’ve been asked out, but I always said no, so they just kinda stopped asking,” I shrugged again and took a bite of my muffin. Yum.
“Why did you say no?” Zendaya said, stealing a chocolate chip.
“I dunno, just never really wanted to go out with anyone.”