𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐎𝐔𝐒 | Anne Hathaway (gxg)

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Y/N Price supposedly is 15 minutes late to a flight with her brother, Sean Price, and his business competitor, Anne Hathaway. - TMZ reports

user1: Y/N IS EARLY ON A FLIGHT??!?!?!? 😨😨

user2: why tf is sean with anne on a flight to italy😭

user3: anne is so stunning

user4: sean wearing a suit to the airport is so sean of him

user5: chat is this real

user6: guys whats going on🤨

user7: i think anne is suing for that 0.12s win

I'm trending on the internet, and so is my brother. The fact he went on a flight with Anne Hathaway didn't sit right with people, as expected. Being fifteen minutes or so late to my flight didn't set off any alarms in my fans; they praised me because everyone knows by now that it wasn't an unusual occurrence.

I was once an hour or so late for someone's funeral. I forgot who it was, but I knew my brother knew them. Speaking of, Sean looks like he's attending a funeral with that suit on. I mean, who the fuck wears a suit to the airport? Then again, why the fuck am I on a flight to Italy?

My eyes wander, spotting the polished wood acting as the frame to my TV, then to the buttons on my chair, which allowed me to lie down. I remember riding in the economy; nothing there was as close to this type of luxury.

I do take a lot of things for granted. I could've ordered anything I wanted, as there were personal chefs in first class, but instead, I chose to eat the Taco Bell that I and Sean were supposed to share. He's missing out; I know he can smell this chicken.

I grin at the thought but get some chicken on my mouth in return. I choke out a laugh at myself. Hathaway looks up at me, then at the mess on my mouth, then at my food.

Her eyes ran to the back of her head in disgust; it made me feel even better - payback for slapping me. I lick my mouth to get the sauce off my face, though I don't remember the last time I cared if I made a mess of myself.

All of a sudden, I felt a harsh wack on my lap. It was a napkin. The obvious culprit looked down at their phone as if nothing happened, but I grinned to myself in pride. Do I piss her off that much?

The question swam laps in my hard head as I observed Hathaway's posture. She sat in front of me, glaring at her phone as if she had lasers for eyes, and she sat with one leg over the other with her back resting on the first-class chair. I don't think her brown eyes can be lasers anyway; they were too soft, though at first glance they didn't look like it.

Hathaway looks up at me, as she can feel my stare while I use the napkin to wipe off all the food around my mouth. She sends me a welcoming scoff and brings out the pull-out TV that was originally inside the seat to block my view—or her view. Whatever, I can't see anything she should be insecure about, or maybe she's just annoyed. She shouldn't even be giving me that prissy attitude anyway, she slapped me and left the room unscathed. That's something to be proud of.

These first-class seats didn't help Hathaway's case. We were sitting in front of each other, with a small table glued down onto the plane's floor. Next to me was Sean, and Anne got to sit by herself.

Of course, the flight wouldn't have been complete without the recurring fight I shared with Sean about who sits next to the window, but what do you expect from me anyway?

I'm sure Hathaway regretted giving me that contract immediately, but the damage was done. She wasn't very pleased with me stealing not-so-sneaky glances at her throughout the flight, and yes, Anne was unfortunately one of those women who are annoyingly gorgeous with the worst personalities to match.