Lights, Camera, Romance!

Hollywood

     "Estelle, you have ten minutes to get ready until it's time to board to the jet!" Angrily yells my manager, Gabrielle Delacroix. I roll my eyes and continue getting ready, pulling my dark hair into its signature messy ponytail and dusting a bit of make-up flawlessly onto my face. I throw on a last minute outfit, which is a sleek pencil skirt, Armani pumps, and a flowy Prada blouse. I admire myself in the mirror for a few minutes, then grab my luggage and walk calmly out of my dorm to the boarding area. 

     One of my agency's private jets stands in the middle of the rooftop; the words "Top Star" are painted on it. When Gabrielle sees me, she clicks her tongue in annoyance and puts my luggage into one of the huge compartments. I already hate my life, but Gabrielle manages to make it a million times worse with her crappy attitude and impatience. Ignoring her complaints, I gracefully hoist myself into the leather seats of the jet. 

     Once we take off, I plug in my earphones and look out the window. I've been working at this agency since I was a teenager. Since my parents abandoned me when I was a child, I had no choice but to use my beauty and talent to get a job. I didn't even want to make it into stardom; I just wanted to lead a simple life, singing at local shows and working at an orphanage to take care of kids who had a similar life to mine. But I needed the money; I could barely pay off the rent for my apartment back then, so when Top Star scouted me, I had no choice but to oblige. Thankfully, I'm in a good place now, so I guess I just have to try and appreciate what I have. 

     Soon, I fall into a deep sleep.

                                                                                                       oOo     

    "We will be landing in LAX in five minutes. Please prepare for landing," says the gentle voice of one of the pilots. I glare through the glass to see us nearing the airport and I slowly get up, stretching my legs and arms. It was a fifteen-hour flight, and I'm exhausted. I quickly head to the bathroom to wash my face and reapply my make-up and sit down until we land. 

     Gabrielle hands me my luggage and we walk into the airport. I notice many stares when I step inside, the norm. I shoot a flirty smile at a few of the men and toss my hair behind me, walking in a straight line and ignoring their catcalling. "We will be meeting the other agency in one of the boardrooms, so please be good-tempered for a little while. You don't want to give them a bad impression," smirks Gabrielle, referring to my bipolar disorder. I roughly bite my lip, trying not to be affected by my manager's snarky comment.

     We finally arrive at the boardroom and walk in, seeing a bunch of people talking, eating, and milling about the expensive buffet. One of the men, a balding guy in his fifties, comes up to me and offers his hand. I am about to kiss his cheek, but I remember that Americans do greetings differently and I settle with shaking his hand. "Bonjour," he says with a horrible accent.

     "Hello, sir," I smile. "Don't worry, I am very fluent in English."

     "You are Miss Beaumont?" he asks, and the crowd of adults begin gathering around us. "I am Andrew Orwell, the director for this movie."

     "Yes. I am excited to be working with you all." 

     "I am sure this movie will be a success with your help. I have seen your talent in a few of your films, and I must say, you are excellent," he grins, patting my back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must talk to your manager."

     I nod and leave him to talk with Gabrielle, ending up sitting awkwardly at one of the tables with a small plate of cheeses in front of me. After about twenty minutes of just scrolling through my Instagram feed, another man comes up to me. "Hello, you are Estelle, right? I'd like to introduce you to my son, he is your costar." Ooh, I am finally going to meet Zayn. I bet he's gonna fall head over heels for me, I think with a smirk.

     From behind him comes a boy who looks to be in his late twenties, probably a few years older than me. I must say, he is strikingly handsome; he's tall and thin, his face is beautiful, and he has thick, dark brown hair that I can run my hands through. His eyes are the most beautiful thing though-- I feel like I can get lost in their depths. "Hello," he speaks, snapping me out of my daze. "I'm Zayn."

     "I-I'm Estelle," I stutter, blushing. This is not like me! It's impossible for me to be flustered. "I look forward to working with you," I comment, regaining my composure.

     "As do I," he smiles, but he doesn't sound genuine and his smile has a lack of warmth to it. I shake it off and continue the conversation, realizing that his dad has left.

     "So, what do you like to do besides acting?" 

     "It's none of your business," he replies, glaring at me with such cold intensity.

     "It's just a ques--"

     "You know what, you piss me off. I'm leaving. I'll see you on set," he hisses, leaving me wide-eyed.

     I sigh. This is going to be a lot more difficult than I thought.