A Collection of Imagines

Nick

Please Stop

This is different. Something about this is wrong on so many levels. I'm watching him in his new movie like he asked. But did he sit with me? Fuck no! Because I'm no one and he's this big shot. He doesn't need me anymore. He has this new life without me. Then, why did he ask me to come to the premiere? To gloat? To rub it all in my face? To say that I meant nothing to him and still do? I'm in the mass of many others, mindlessly watching him act on screen. And he's here, in person. In the same row as I am. I had to refrain myself from looking at him. Maybe that's why he dragged me here. So I can gawk at him? Uh, yeah, he's got another thing coming. Although, I did see him enter the theater, with someone. God, this is just some set-up to get me jealous. And it's a perfect plan, even though I hate saying it. He got me to come here, expecting him to be some gentleman, like he used to be. I came thinking that this is a message of getting me back after he threw me away. I thought he would take pictures with me, introduce me to his director, and tell me he missed me. But, of course, that didn't happen. Maybe that's what happens to acting couples. Everything is just a publicity stunt. Fuck, I hate this. Being vulnerable when I'm around him. I wish he was vulnerable around me. I wish every time he saw me or heard my name that his insides contracted and his palms would begin sweating. I wish his breath hitched whenever my face came on in ads. I wish I could see it all from him and not feel it myself. Sometimes, however, the feelings that I get when he comes into view makes me alive. Like my body is remembering what it was like to be around him. What it was to feel him. Whenever our skin met, my body would ignite in goosebumps. And just remembering him above me, kissing my neck, and making a sound almost like a growl as he thrusts— SHIT! Don't think about that! This is what he wants you to think about! I involuntarily look in his direction and to my amazement he's looking straight at me. What the actual fuck?! I quickly look away and swallow hard. His gaze burning into my mind. My cheeks heat up and I screw my eyes shut. If I looked again, I know he would be staring at me. He's probably satisfied with my reaction. No, I won't give him the satisfaction. I need to get out of here. I stand and started walking down the isle way, opposite his direction. I need to get away from him. What was I thinking coming here? He's obviously moved on, why can't I? Once I reached the stairs, I almost sprinted down them. I push the door to the entrance of the theater and head towards the concession stands. Almost home-free, until I heard the most rustic, handsome voice call out my name. 

This is different. I'm sitting in the theater with my costar at my side. I don't why I asked her to be my date, but after I asked her to come I immediately regretted already having a date. She looks so beautiful I have to admit. She looks better than before I left her and she was already beautiful. The universe is playing a trick on me, making me feel worse and more guilty than before I saw her. I couldn't stop looking at her when I arrived with my costar. She was just as captivating as before. God, I can reminisce the memories of the long nights we spent together. She was an amazing woman to work with on and off screen. She was wild and delicious. The images still clear in my head. She makes the most blissful noises whenever I would touch her the right way. Fuck, she was so good she can make me cum right here just by remembering her. I involuntarily glance down the row. She's watching the screen in front of her. Her hands in her lap and her mind obviously wandering. What she's thinking about, I can clearly guess. Well, I hope she's thinking about me. I hope she is remembering the good times. Like the times when I would kiss her on the back of her neck when she was going over a script, or whenever one of us had to take a shower, the other would always join, regardless if we got clean. I hope she remembers the times when I would wake up before her and kiss her cheek in her sleep and tuck her back into bed. God, I love remembering that. She always looked so peaceful when she was asleep. Now, she was obviously the opposite of peaceful. And I can't look away. She can be so tantalizing at times. I hate how I ended things. I had to do it, however. Too many people came in between and my career was taking off. Although, I don't blame her for being mad. I dropped her for a job. She was one of the best things in my life and I dropped her so I could get my name in the headlines. The question that rose in my head was: Would she do the same? We are both in the same occupation and in the same eagerness to be in the back pocket of the best directors in the world. Would she do the same? I have no idea. That scares me deeply. I have been staring at her for a while. I can't help it though. Would anyone? If they saw the love of their life sitting alone in a theater after not seeing them since their break-up, would they not stare at them? My eyes moved to her dress and how it hugs her thighs. I remember kissing every inch of those things while she moaned helplessly. I trailed up to her shoulders, remembering how she would press them into my arm when she needed to touch me at times. When I make it up to her face again, my breath hitches. She's looking right at me. I feel my eyes going wide and I can hear her gasp from down the row. She quickly looks away and I feel like something was torn out of me. The feeling causes me to fall back into my seat with my jaw agape. Fuck! FUCK! What did I do? In my peripheral vision, I see her get up from her seat and start exiting the theater. Before my mind can catch up with the rest of my body, I'm already half way down the row, running after her. She's not going to get away that easily and I will never make the same mistake again. She's not going to fall from my grasp again. Once I get to the lobby, I call out her name and we both freeze.