Spotlight on Nobody

- 42 -

~ song: Call my friends by Shawn Mendes ~

"So, how much did Leo tell you about us?" Harry questions in a British lilt from his spot on the sectional.

"Who does he say is the funniest?" Tom asks. Tom Holland that is. "Actually, don't answer. I know it's me. Don't need to hurt the mates."

"Cute." Dylan's voice is full of sarcasm when he says it, glaring at Tom as if to say don't even try, we all know I'm the funniest. Dylan who, you may ask? I'll give you a hint: Teen Wolf, The Maze Runner, The First Time.... Need I go on?

"Maybe he gave us all code names, so she couldn't leak secret information about us!" Khalid exclaims excitedly. Yes, the Khalid.

"Have you seen your socials lately mate? You don't have secrets," Harry laughs.

"Actually," I find my opening. "He hasn't said a thing about any of you. All your secrets are safe."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Tom mimes a blade piercing his chest, Khalid pouts, Harry shrugs, and Dylan mutters: "that's cold man." They all seem downright offended that I never heard any stories about them.

"I didn't want to scare her away!" Leo says defensively, hands in the air, as everyone turns to stare daggers at him.

"Since when does having famous friends scare girls away?" Tom asks, genuinely confused.

"You want to know what I think?" Harry smirks.

"No," Leo says with a half sigh, half laugh. "But you'll tell us anyway."

"I think Leo didn't tell Nell about us," he pauses, "because he was afraid that she would only stay with him to meet my sexy ass, and then dump him for me!"

Everyone laughs, including me and Leo, but I make sure to give him a reassuring squeeze on the arm, making sure he knows that the only sexy ass I have eyes on is his.

"More pizza?" Leo asks softly in my ear. I nod and stand up with him, making our way to the kitchen. True to the rest of the house, dark exposed beams contrast the white plaster work in the rest of the spacious room, arched windows boasting a beautiful hillside LA view. I run my hand over the granite countertops, admiring the Spanish ceramic tiles adorning the backsplash. If my explicit detail is any indication, I absolutely love the style of the house.

Leo grabs a few slices off the pizza stones sitting on the island. He winks as he places two slices of Hawaiian on his own plate, knowing I think pineapple on pizza is blasphemous.

"You thought these guys would scare me away?" I echo the earlier conversation.

Leo smiles and walks over to wear I stand, looking out over the backyard. "I didn't want to risk it," he says in my ear, as he hugs me from behind. Instantly, I relax in his arms, leaning my head against his shoulder. "All your friends are so down-to-earth," he continues. "I wanted you to think of me as just a regular guy."

I turn to face him, our noses almost touching. "You will never be a regular guy."

"I know, I just – "

"No stop," I say softly. "It's not because of your career, or your fancy houses, or your famous friends." I snake my arms around his neck. "It's because when you smile you set me on fire, it's because you're kind to a fault, because you are humble and respectful, because you have creativity and passion and drive. You will never be regular because everything about you is one-of-a-kind, including that I love you. You're the only one for me."

"I love you Nell Greene," Leo says, kissing me softly, "but we have to stop being so sappy all the time."

A laugh erupts from my throat, turning what I thought would be a serious conversation comical.

"Maybe I should reconsider my don't-date-fans policy," Tom ponders from the doorway of the kitchen. "It clearly worked out well for Leo."

I blush when I realize that all the guys were standing there, empty plates in hand, looking for pizza but instead finding me and Leo canoodling on the countertop.

"Oh," I say with a chuckle. "I was not a fan before I met him."

"Hey!" Leo says, offended, at the same time the rest of the boys whoop and holler.

"Emphasis on before we met," I exclaim. "Now I'm your number one fan." Just to make it clear exactly where we stand, I lean over and kiss him sweetly.

Dylan makes a gagging sound in the back of his throat, clearly put off by our public display of affection. Surprisingly, Harry slaps Dylan on the arm and says: "Grow up mate, that was sweet."

My blush only intensifies, embarrassed at my vulnerability in front of America's panty-droppers.

"Well, if you want a not-fan, I have a friend in mind," I say with a cheeky smile directed at Tom, trying to push the attention away from my romantic moment with Leo.

"There are people who don't like me?" he asks incredulously. "But I'm so lovable!"

"Yes, yes you are," Khalid says sincerely, giving him a loving pat on the head which makes me laugh.

"To be fair, it's not that she doesn't like you, she just doesn't know you exist," I placate. I think back to when Ella didn't know who Ingrid Orchid was any more than I did.

"Ella," Leo says in understanding. "Actually Tom.... I could see it."

"Ella is a hot name," Tom says in agreement. As the boys banter about the attractiveness of names, I am struck yet again by the absurdity of the situation. I just tried to set up my best friend with Tom Holland. I am sharing pizza with the highest grossing pop stars of my generation and it feels strangely natural. Just as I am settling into the evening and finally feeling comfortable with the company of celebrities, the doorbell rings. Dylan nods his head to us, indicating that he'll go see who it is.

I throw an inquisitive glance in Leo's direction, but he just shrugs unwittingly.

"How horrible to see you," Dylan's voice drips sarcasm from the foyer. Though I can't see who is at the door from my place in the kitchen, the way my hairs rise on my neck are a pretty clear indicator of who it is.

My suspicions are only confirmed when I hear a voice sweet as venom say: "Dylan, darling, how's my favorite washed up teen heartthrob? Did I miss your thirtieth birthday?"

Only one woman in Hollywood is that cold: Ingrid Orchid.