Hot mess (A Luke Evans FanFiction)

Chapter One - Not Just A Pretty Face

Luke

I sat in the hotel lobby with my hood up in an attempt to disguise myself from any possible onlookers as I read a two day-old newspaper. I tried desperately to blend in, hoping that no would recognise me. I occasionally looked up to see if Martin, my agent, had arrived. He had sent a text saying that he was running behind schedule, which was unusual for him, he was well organised. Lately though, his mind seemed to be constantly elsewhere. I looked up and caught sight of the receptionist. She couldn't have been more than eighteen at best and she had definitely 'baby face' that seemed to be hidden behind a few loose strands of curly, blonde hair. She stood up straight; her facial expression didn't match her professionalism. If anything, she looked shocked a tall, skinny, cherry-red haired woman walked through the doors, now It was my turn to be shocked.

Clad in ankle boots with gothic spikes, a pair of black, ripped jeans, a grey, oversized t-shirt and a leather jacket completely the authentic rock 'n' roll look. I could tell by her signature Fossil bag that she was none other than supermodel Georgia Callie. The receptionist was lost for words; stunned might have been a better word to describe it. It was clear that she didn't know what to say and neither did I for that matter. Never in my life did I think that Georgia and I would cross paths. I dared myself to go up and talk to her but I had no idea how to start a conversion. "Hi, I'm looking for Dan Goodger's room. I'll be staying with him for the next few days" she spoke in a straightforward manner. At that, the receptionist was still unable to form a sentence. Instead, she nodded and quickly typed on the keyboard before she handed over a key card for her room. "Thank you" Georgia spoke and offered a small but definitely warm smile.

I watched as Georgia began to walk towards the hotel lift. It was somewhere at that point when the receptionist suddenly found her voice. "Do you need help with your bags, Miss?" she asked. Georgia stopped mid-track and glanced at the young woman. She then looked down at her polka dot suitcase. She smiled, again with the same amount of warmth that the previous smile had had. "No thank you. Thanks for the offer, though" Compared to other models, Georgia was strangely polite. I watched her, mesmerised, as she then stepped into the newly-opened lift before the doors closed, concealing her from my line of sight. I had missed my chance to talk to her. I sat back in my seat. What kind of celebrity would willingly take their own luggage to their room? I thought quietly to myself. And what kind of idiot would let Georgia slip away like that without talking to her. Me, that's who. 

A voice quickly pulled me back into the clutches of reality. "You ready?" I looked up and saw my agent Martin staring down at me. It didn't come as much of a surprise to see him in a business suit; I hadn't seen him wear anything different, ever. I got up from my spot; my height rivalled his own easily by two or three inches. "Did you know Georgia Callie is staying here?" I whispered to him as we walked over to the reception desk. "No" Martin looked just as surprised as I was when I had seen Georgia walk into the room. He didn't say anything shortly afterwards and opted to lean over the side of the reception desk. "Room for Mr Martin Wills" he said in a suave manner. The receptionist quickly handed over a key card. Martin always insisted that he put any and all hotel bookings under his name. The pair of us headed towards the lift. From looking at Martin, his walk seemed rigid, almost tense in a way and that could mean that he so far wasn't having a good day. I joined him inside the confines of the lift and remained quiet as he pushed the button for the third floor. The journey was a quiet, almost stiff one. I was glad that it wasn't a long ride and when the doors finally opened, we stepped out into a long, lavishly-decorated corridor. "Fancy doing something tonight?" Martin suddenly asked. I knew that he wasn't a social person but more of a workaholic. He was extremely dedicated to his job and on a rare occasion, he would ask someone to go out with him. It either meant that he was having a really rough day or that he just wanted to let it all go for a night. "Sure" I casually replied.