Celebrity Imagines

Anya Taylor-Joy

Melissa laughed. "How do you do this?"

I drew in my eyebrows together, pretending to be interested in whatever she was saying. "Do what?"

"Make me laugh so effortlessly even when I don't want to." She smirked, leaning her hips against the desk, her hands wreathed around my neck as she pulled me in. Our faces were close and I found it extremely difficult not to look at anything but her.

"Any reason you decided to drop by?" I asked, tapping my fingers on the table to fill in the silence. Other than spying on me for my mom.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Can you call in Anya? I wanted her to-"

"God," I groaned. "That's not her job, Mel"

"She told me herself she'd loved to help, plus she's very organized and dedicated." I felt an urge to roll my eyes as I dialed her number on the telephone. "Come in," I ordered as soon as my call was received and then hung up.

"Be polite to her," she rebuked and I felt shivers, noticing the similarities in her and my mother. "I don't need to be," I muttered impassively, my mood, all of a sudden, taking a huge turn.

"Have you decided upon the flowers yet?" She ignored me, turning towards the window to shield her eyes from my glare.

"I'm not good at that stuff, I suggest you go over it with the wedding planner." I fixed some of the miscellaneous papers on my desk, remarking that some of them were, in fact, important.

"Her name's Dianna," she spoke calmly even though I could hear the anger in her voice.

"Yes, her- the wedding plann-"

We were interrupted, thank god, by a knock on the door. Melissa tried slightly to fix her make-up, putting on a fake smile and taunting me with it before fastening her purse.

"Come in," I voiced, scratching my hair with a sigh.

"Oh Hello, Anya! How are you?" Melissa asked. And I found it to be almost meritorious how quickly she could put on a facade, entirely concealing her real personality.

"I'm good, Mrs-"

"Oh come on," she groaned playfully, waving her hand in front of her face as if disapproving of something. "It's Melissa for you- and we're not even married yet."

"Sorry, Melissa." Anya smiled contritely, clutching her hands nervously on her abdomen.

"Well, anyway, I wanted to assign you a little job, if you don't mind? Please feel free to decline but I wanted you to write a few formal letters to invite some guests to the wedding."

"Letters? Really? Is that necessary?" I scoffed, kicking the heel of my sandals against the floor, making her raise her eyebrows at me.

"They are old-fashioned and important, I think they'll like the effort," Melissa argued, still maintaining her venomous smile.

"Sure, letters for how many people?"

Melissa dives into her purse, drawing out a piece of paper neatly folded in half. "Here, all the names along with their addresses."

She dove her acrylics beneath a bundle of envelopes on my desk I had no idea of, and gently pushed her paper inside. I hate how she appeared to be so soft in front of people she could easily manipulate and benefit from.

I rubbed over the band-aid on my temple, wincing at how it still hurt. It didn't go unnoticed by the women. I got a worried stare from one, and flare from another.

"I have some work, Melissa." I leaned against my table, resting my elbow on the glass. Melissa nodded, hugging me as she kissed my cheeks. My eyes peeped at Anya, noticing how she had her gorgeous hair down today. "Bye, baby, and see you soon Anya!"