Just a Hair Stylist - Chris Evans story \\✔️

Chapter Fifty-eight

Back at the hotel, you, Chris, and Scott parted ways with Megan after the elevator. The three of you headed back to Chris' suite, so he could change and get his things ready for his appearance with Jimmy Fallon. While Chris took a fast shower, you and Scott hung out in the living room, slouched deep into the couch with your feet up on the edge of the coffee table. You commiserated about your scolding from Megan. Well, you could call it that, if you weren't giggling at Scott's scrunch-nosed, exaggeratedly whiny parody of Megan and the whole scene.

You sighed out the end of your laugh and it hit you. "You don't think we're really in trouble, do you?"

"Mmnah," he decided. "Wouldn't be the first time. ...Well, for me anyway. Kinda figured she'd be used to it by now."

Snickering, you considered, "Yeah, but you're his brother. What can she really do to you?"

"You're his girlfriend," he countered. "What can she really do to you?"

"I don't know," you shrugged. "Just that whole, if you're going to keep showing up for these appearances bit..."

"That did sound a little harsh," Scott agreed.

"I just don't want Chris to get in trouble," you worried.

"He's not gonna get in trouble," he groaned, rolling his eyes at you. "And Megan's just stressed out. It's the end of a long trip. So much travel and everything lately. Maybe her fuse is just a little shorter for it. She'll be alright."

You hummed and nodded. Maybe. But still, "I don't think I'm gonna go to Fallon."

Scott was just inching down a little further in his seat to rest his head on your shoulder, when he pouted, "Why not?"

You'd have shrugged, if he weren't using you as a pillow. Tipping your head over onto his, you explained, "What am I really gonna do there? I mean, there were all kinds of people at Marvel, so I blended in..." You snickered. "Well, would have if it weren't for you." Scott pinched at your knee and you swatted him away. "But I'll kind of stick out like a sore thumb. Like, what do I even do there? Hang out in the dressing room? Do you get a seat in the audience?"

"Yeah, or you could watch from the side of the stage," Scott suggested. "It's fun."

"Said the guy everyone knows," you smiled. "But me, it'd be like, who's that girl with the red hair with Chris' brother and publicist? You don't think it'd be weird? Part of the reason Megan's going to have a stroke, or something, is waiting for people to figure me out."

"So, maybe being a part of the entourage tonight, where people are constantly poking around to see if anyone needs anything and introduce themselves and shit, isn't the best place to hang out when you're the new girl," he put together.

"Yeah, maybe?" you wondered. "Besides, I can just watch it later."

Scott gave your leg a pat. "Maybe you should sit this one out. What are you gonna tell him?"

Oh, yeah. You needed an excuse to not go. "Crap," you muttered.

"Oo, good one!" Scott lit up.

"What's a good one?"

"Cramps," he said, sitting up to look at you as confused as you were. His brow wrinkled, asking, "You said cramps, right?"

"No, I said, crap," you corrected.

"Well," Scott began, "do you wanna say you're not going because of cramps...or because you crapped yourself?"

Mouth falling open in disgust, you backhanded Scott in the gut. He laughed, rubbing away the sting on his belly, while you complained, "That's so gross. I would nev-"