Describing Him (Ansel Elgort)

13 // Manhattan

(A/N

Okay. I have a HUGE apology to make to you all for not updating. I'm so sorry, I got really annoyed because I wrote this chapter ages ago but it didn't save and I got so mad and gave up. Anyway, I've been really slack on this story. Whenever I have time to write, I want to write new stuff. Thank you so much for 4k! I love you all so so much.)

My eyes blinked open, only for a tsunami of panic wave through me.

I had slept in exactly two beds other then my own before: My Grandparent's spare bed and the mattress that usually lives under Amy's bed.

So waking up in a room I'd never seen before was very disorientating.

It was pitch black when I crawled into bed last night, and now, getting a good look at the small narrow room with a window on the back wall overlooking the street behind, looked entirely different to everything I'm used to.

I make my way out of the room, wiping the sleep out of my eyes when it suddenly dawns on me that:

1. I was so tired last night, that I managed to fall asleep in my pencil skirt and - oh shit, my pale pink and baby blue dinosaur pajamas

2. I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to do now - I have no idea where Ansel is, or where the kitchen is or even if it's polite to randomly walk into a stranger's kitchen.

3. If anyone sees me like this, Ansel especially, I think I might pass out.

My hair, unbrushed and teased from sleeping with it out, is sticking up everywhere like a mad woman and I have huge bags under my eyes and the little makeup I wear is smudged all over my face.

I am halfway down the stairs by the time I realise all of this, and of course, with my luck, I hear footsteps coming down the hall.

Shit.

I look around frantically for somewhere to hide, and just as I throw my leg over the banister in hope to get downstairs faster, the person - whoever it is, sniggers, holding in laughter.

"Decided you'd slide down the banister this morning?" I am relived when I hear Ansel's voice, but my body tenses anyway.

His warm hands grab my waist and he gently detaches me from the banister, setting me down inches away from him.

He's about a head taller than me, and with my body almost right up against him, he looks down sleepily with me, a playful smirk on his face.

"I like your pyj's." He teases.

I could feel myself blushing like crazy.

I open and close my mouth many times, my voice and mind failing me.

This just makes him smirk even more.

"I was going to make you breakfast," he says. "Care to join me?"

"Where is the kitchen?" I asked sheepishly, and he tried so hard not to start laughing.
He lead me down the stairs and left into the house's pale green and grey kitchen.

He begins to make breakfast on the stove while I awkwardly hover around the island, not knowing what to do.

"I hope you like eggs," he says, handing me a plate.
I scoff down the food hungrily, realising only at the end that I'd never eaten that fast, and that I don't even like eggs.
It seems impossible, I'd eaten and enjoyed eggs cooked by a famous actor in his parent's house wearing a pencil skirt and a unicorn pajama top.
"Where are you parents? I feel bad that I haven't met them yet - I mean, I am staying at their house."
He smiles, watching me fumble.
"Actually they're out and won't be home until later tomorrow night, so we have all of today and tomorrow to do whatever we want." His smile turns into a grin as he gestures with his big hands to the kitchen window.
"I was thinking maybe I could show you the city?"

To say I was excited was an understatement. I didn't say anything, but judging by the look Ansel was giving me he'd guessed from my open mouth and eyes glued to his in pure awe that I would happily go to the city with him.
"Just a tip," he said, leaning in close. "You should, ah, probably get changed,"
He snickered as I trudged up the stairs, blushing slightly.

Manhattan was wonderful.
Ansel showed me all the famous sights and told me the best clubs and restaurants and made me try street food - which I'd never had before - and we took photos with Elmo and gave money to buskers and I'd never done any of it before.
He was, without a doubt, a fantastic tour guide.
One thing that I never could of predicted (I really should have, though) was that we ran into fans.
It either went something like this:
"Hi, sorry, do you ah, mind if we get a photo?" The girl asked, her eyes wide and her voice really high.
And she passed the camera to me, and I had no idea what to do, because at first it was on selfie mode and I accidentally took four photos of my chin, but I didn't want to intrude on her camera role or anything and Ansel and the young girl were getting sort of impatient so I just took a photo of them and it was blurry and then I took another on and I'd cut Ansel's head off because he was too tall and so I-
"That's fine, thanks," she said, taking her phone back and leaving.
Or like this:
"OH MY GOD IS THAT ANSEL ELGORT??? I LOVE THE FAULT IN OUR STARS YOU WERE SO GOOD I CRIED SO MUCH OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S ACTUALLY YOU!!!"
And then I expected to be handed her phone but she turned around and handed it to her friend and slung her arm around my shoulder and I stared at her for a solid minute, frowning, before figuring out that Ansel was on her other side smiling and her friend was taking a photo of us.
Then she turned to me and said something along the lines of:
"How's filming for New York Heights going? I'm so excited for the movie, and the book was really good, well done." And I stood there, dumbfounded, and probably mumbled something like "thanks."
And then, being the total idiot I am, I said the weirdest thing.
"Do you mind if I get a photo of you?" I asked, pulling out my phone (admittedly a Nokia).
Just then, a tall, muscular woman appeared and whisked her away, yelling at us, saying we couldn't have a photo and we were creeps and not role models and other things.
Ansel pulled me away from where we were, his hand on my arm, and led me further into Central Park before stopping and looking me dead in the eye.
And cracking up laughing.
"You are the funniest person I have ever met- what, what was that about?"
"Well, ah, she was kind of my first fan, and uh, I wanted to get a photo to remember how weird and unnatural it felt, you know, for memories, and I, um, I don't know." I rambled, blushing.
I sighed, looking at my feet. I am such an idiot sometimes.
"Sorry, I'm normally not this pathetic."
"Hey," Ansel whispered, bringing two fingers under my chin to lift my head, forcing me to look at him.
His eyes were so full of care and admiration, and all his attention was on me, and all of a sudden I felt like I wasn't hopeless at all.
"Don't you ever say anything like that again. You're this strong, beautiful young girl who people look up to, and I've never met someone so... You know, you're really something else."
I know it's arrogant of me to believe him, but I couldn't stop the massive smile that had spread across my face.

We got a taxi home after that, both agreeing that our day had been long and eventful enough.
On the way, we picked up this Chinese takeaway, which Ansel insisted was a New York tradition, even though I pointed out that it was Asian, and not American, from this place that he swore by. We ate at the quiet dining table in his parent's place, and although I didn't admit it, it was damn good Chinese takeout.

I brushed my teeth in the bathroom with my electric toothbrush, and suddenly I saw a figure in the mirror.
I turned around to Ansel, his all too familiar smirk planted on his face. I stared at him, toothpaste foam and toothbrush still in my mouth, and he stared at me, his arms crossed and leaning on the door frame.
"You're adorable, you know that?" He whispered, taking a step towards me, closing the space between us. He held my head in his hands, pressing his soft lips to my forehead.
"Goodnight, Margo,"