The perfect match

1

When your stomach had finally decided it was done emptying itself, you begrudgingly rise to your feet and bring your trembling frame over to the sink. You catch your reflection in the mirror opposite almost immediately, and whilst the under eye bags and smeared makeup were obvious, it was the hickeys covering the skin of both your neck and chest that promptly catch your attention.

They were big and dark, and you instinctively run the tip of your finger over the one on your right breast. A twinge of pain has you shuddering slightly, and you immediately rip your hand away and yank one of the robes from the hook on the door before shrugging it on.

Feeling a little more comfortable now that you were covered, you make quick work of rinsing your mouth with water. You wanted nothing more than to brush your teeth, but your toothbrush and toothpaste were still in your suitcase and the thought of going back into that room to grab them made you want to throw up all over again.

But apparently you have no choice, because no sooner could you begin to make a plan, a quiet, yet cautious knock comes from the bathroom door. It has your heart racing in your chest, and a part of you wants to scramble out of the bathroom window never to be seen by this person again. But the window was too small, leaving you no choice but to venture towards the door, unlock it, and slowly pull it open.

Scarlett was there, wrapped in the top sheet of the bed with red rimmed eyes. You must have been so busy chucking your guts up that you didn't hear her wake up. Nor cry. You feel slightly guilty at the last revelation.

You awkwardly clear your throat, "Hi."

"Hi." She whispers, voice cracking. Her eyes shine with a fresh set of tears, but she speaks again before you could even begin to question what to do. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

You shake your head as you sidestep her and make your way properly into the room. "No," you drop onto the bed with a heavy sigh, "all I know is that we must have gotten black out drunk because there is no way I would have agreed to..." you trail off as your gaze flickers to the ring that was, for some reason, still on your finger.

You pull it off and drop of on the nightstand, only now realising that Scarlett must have done the exact same the second she'd woken up as hers was already there.

"My manager is going to kill me," Scarlett seemingly mutters to herself as she begins picking up her discarded clothing from around the room. You politely avert your gaze when the sheet drops to the floor. "You're a total stranger. I don't know you. Why would I have married you?" Her voice trials off into a panicked whimper, and you swallow the sudden lump in your throat as you keep your eyes glued to your lap.

"Well it happened," you start as you feel her drop defeatedly onto the bed, "and the sooner we do something about it, the better." You glance behind you and see her bent over with her head in her hands.

You take that as your opportunity to dress, and you do so by slipping into the first items of clothing you could get your hands on. A pair of grey sweatpants and a hoodie. After scrambling into them, you sit yourself down next to her and tug on your sneakers.

Scarlett sniffles as she watches you, "What are you doing?" She questions unsurely. You glance at her and just about manage to refrain from wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks. It wasn't your place.

"We need to figure out what happened last night." You tell her like it was obvious.

"That's the thing," her voice was loud now, and you startle in surprise as the sheer volume as she stands and begins to pace around the room. "I have an interview, today, in four hours, and my plane leaves in less than half an hour. I don't know where I am. Who you are. Where my phone is and I'm freaking the fuck out!"

You freeze as you unsurely flicker your eyes up to meet her own. This was not good. Not good at all. Though you did have to admit that her looking all mad was kind of attractive. The vein that strains in her neck. The way her fingers tangle through her already messy hair.

You immediately shake that thought away as you pull your own hair back into a ponytail, silently scolding yourself for objectifying her when you knew nothing more about her than her name.

You go to stand up to see if you could offer her some comfort -because crying people really did make you uncomfortable- but she shakes her head and takes a small step away from you. The rejection that hits your chest was immediate, but the apologetic look she sends you in response eases the burn.

You remain seated and fist the material of your hoodie in your hands. You had no idea what to do, and if the way she was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room looking anywhere but at you was anything to go by, she didn't either. It leaves you both in an uncomfortable silence, and you have to refrain from blurting out the first thing on your mind just to break it.

Thankfully, an unfamiliar buzzing coming from the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room does the job for you. Scarlett was there immediately, a breath of relief escaping her lips as she brings the device to her ear.

"Hello? Yeah. No. I'm with..." she trails off unsurely as she glances your way, obviously not knowing your name, "someone. No. I don't know. It's hard to explain. We kind of...no! Well, yes, but no. I'm...let's just say I did something stupid and now I'm going need my lawyer. Yeah. I don't know. Track my phone because- yeah, okay."

You sigh lightly as you lay back on your bed, covering your eyes with your arms.

"Okay," you hear her murmur into the phone, "Okay. I'll see you soon. That was my assistant." Guessing that last part of her statement was aimed at you, you sit up on your elbows and raise your eyebrow as if to say go on...

Scarlett clears her throat, "We need to meet her outside in ten minutes." She tells you as she looks around the room again.

"We?" You frown.

She stands back up with a small stack of papers in her hands. She folds them up, grasps the rings off of the nightstand and dumps them into her purse which had been unceremoniously tossed onto the small chair in the corner of the room.

"Yep. We. Pack what you need for at least a week." She tells you as she sits down on the chair in the corner of the room, her attention back on her phone.

Too tired and hungover to question her further, you begin to pack up your suitcase. You didn't want to come back here when you were done with whatever Scarlett had planned. You just wanted to go home. Your home where you were unmarried with no connection to one of the most famous actresses in the world. Where you had your ordinary job and did ordinary things.

What a fucking mess.

**

Votes and comments are appreciated!!!