Life's going pretty fucking great for Joe Alwyn. He's fresh out of drama school and the lead in a new Ang Lee movie. He's exploring the States for the first time, getting drunk with his mates when he meets her....THE girl of his dreams. Just one pro...
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Joe sat in his trailer, staring into space, completely lost in his thoughts. His head was throbbing and his eyes were still puffy, even though they had been doused in buckets of ice water. Twelve hours had passed and he still had this bloody hangover.
It certainly did not help that he had a 4:30 call time this morning. Despite feeling knackered beyond disbelief, Joe had no regrets about his decision to accompany Garrett to the Bowery. Something about last night had changed him, energized him in a way that he couldn't even begin to comprehend.
"Hey," a gruff voice rasped, effectively tearing Joe away from his momentary reverie. He glanced at the disheveled figure now in front of him: Garret with tousled hair, bloodshot eyes, and pale skin.
"That's about the most coherent thing you've said in the last fourteen hours," Joe snickered.
Garrett snorted and collapsed onto the leather couch across from Joe. "How stoned was I?" he mumbled into a sherpa throw pillow (a decor item courtesy of Lindsay).
"Where do I even begin," Joe laughed. "You were as high as a motherfucking kite. I mean blimmin' heck man, you were jumping on tables and passing out tequila shots to everyone. You had to have spent at least $2,500 on alcohol last night. You even offered to buy Lilly and Caleb's four-year-old daughter a "tequila sippy cup". Thank God, I got you out of there before you actually started handing alcohol to underage toddlers."
Garret buried his face even further into the pillow. "So not my finest moment, eh?"
"Definitely not," Joe emphasized. "The best part was when you started singing ''now I know my CBDs" to the poor cab driver."
Garrett rolled onto his back, cracking up at his own dumb joke. "At least I'm a comedic stoner," he reasoned. "But honestly, thanks for having my back last night, even though I don't remember shit."
"Of course."
"Hell, I was so high that I remember hallucinating and thinking that I saw you talking to Taylor motherfucking Swift. How ridiculous is that?"
Joe felt his pulse quicken at these words as if Taylor's name had sent electric currents down his veins. All of the gidiness and adrenaline that he had felt last night suddenly came flooding back.
In an instant, his brain had become a kaleidoscope of fragments of their conversation and images of that sweet smile that kept creeping up Taylor's face. All he could think about were those piercing blue eyes and those sharp-witted words that seemed to roll off her tongue.
Joe's exuberant response wasn't a case of starstruckness, though. He wasn't floored by her celebrity like he would have been had he met Antonio Banderas or Justin Vernon instead. No, he was enchanted by her, humbled by her character, in awe of her beauty.
