Just a Hair Stylist - Chris Evans story \\✔️

Chapter eighteen

It all started with gas. The credit card reader at the pump was down. They all were. You filled your

tank and dropped into line with the other gas station customers, eyes scanning the store while the

clerk broke open a new roll of quarters to keep cashing out the patrons ahead of you. The line was

painfully slow, but a small smile crossed your face as you panned over the magazine rack. Doing

'sexy stare' back at you was Chris from the mess of tabloids, health and sports magazines, and

chewing gum on display beside you.

What the hell? you figured, reaching out for the glossy publication. You fanned the pages, as you

scooted along in line, until you got to Chris' article. You admired the photos while you inched up

in the cue, happy you grabbed the magazine because, as always- damn. And for the novelty of

knowing that hot guy in the magazine, shilling expensive Swiss watches, was your boyfriend. Oh,

yeah. And, now you had something to read over dinner. So, bonus.

You hit a drive-thru on the way home. You'd had a productive Tuesday, so far. Made it to the

grocery and pet stores, got the laundry done and apartment cleaned, got the oil changed in the Jeep,

and made it to the post office to mail some bills and a birthday card all by 2p.m. Don't forget

Archie's walks. Look at all you got accomplished. Good job! You deserve a cooking-free meal.

Plating up your hassle-free, late lunch from Fatburger, you settled down at the dining room table.

Burger in hand and Archie waiting with hopeful eyes, you flipped open your magazine to read. The

journalist shadowing him around for the IWC events started with the usual BS. Just another writer

talking up an actor's career in case the reader was unfamiliar with their work, a few lines about the

upcoming Cap movie. Some fluffy description of Chris' personality, some eyebrow wagging

assessments of his, ahem, physical body of work. Some things about his family, Boston, blah blah

blah. Hitting up the bar after a press event, getting tipsy with Chris and his celebrity friends, afterpartying at his hotel, flirty hands and suggestive comments, and- Wait. What in the actual fuck??

You started rereading lines, abandoning your burger and pushing aside the plate to put the

magazine directly under your nose. You had to be sure you weren't misreading things. And, nope.

This bitch is talking about Chris saying easily misinterpreted things, him buying drinks, and his

"friendly" handsy-ness. And not in an objective reporter way. More like a 'hoping someone's

getting lucky' way. The article ended without any mention of any blatantly inappropriate behavior

with the writer, but alluded to some more questionable behavior at the accompanying photoshoot

that same week. And, of course, no mention of a girlfriend.

Are they kidding with this shit? You pushed the magazine away, more than a little flustered by

what you read. Why the hell did you even buy this stupid thing? After a minute of staring at the

magazine across the table, you realized your heart was beating faster and there was a subtle shake