AARON TVEIT IMAGINES

LOVE//HATE

Aaron.

Ugh. Just his name made you sick. Even after all these years, he still clung to your spirit like a piece of gum off the ground, teasing and tormenting and making you miserable.

In elementary school, he would throw your ball all the way across the court so you'd have to run and get it. In middle school, you two would compete for the best grades, but he'd get all the credit in class for being "outstanding" (due to his charisma), when you were clearly the top in academics. In high school, he was prom king, valedictorian, labeled the coolest and smartest kid in school... The handsome bastard. When you thought of him, the words that came to mind were less than complimentary.

Sure, it sounded petty. It was petty. Even after graduating, you couldn't get this rivalry off your mind. Not that you could be blamed. He was everywhere, now. Mr. Aaron Tveit was now a famous and beloved Broadway star, when you'd known him since he was a little boy whose name nobody knew. Pathetic.

You had taken up a summer job at a popular retail store on the Lower East side, just as a temporary thing. You were starting at NYU in just a few months, and you hardly had enough money to pay your tuition. Unlike somebody, you actually had to work hard to pay bills. And of course, at this popular clothing store, there were multiple giant billboards of Tveit himself. It was a constant reminder of where you were in life. Way, way behind.

It was a regular Wednesday morning, you were standing at the register, counting the cash and organizing all the gift cards and water bottles on the counter. A crowd bellowed outside. The noise grew closer.

"What the hell?" you mumbled to yourself. You peeked out the window to see a few flashes of light. Cameras?

Around the corner appeared about 20 paparazzi, clicking away, following a very flustered figure. The person was darting around, probably trying to get away from all the commotion. A few moments after you returned to your work, the automated doors slid open and in ran a man who slumped to the ground as soon as he entered.

No way.

Aaron fucking Tveit, the absolute bane of your existence, was kneeled on the floor of the department store, coincidentally, right next to a very large GEORGIO ARMANI advertisement, which was just a giant print of his face. He was bright red, sweaty, and breathed heavily.

"Hey, that's me." he pointed to the advertisement.

You wanted to disappear, to dart underneath the counter, but he had already looked over at you.

"No way!" he panted. "Y/N, is that you?"

You plastered a painfully faux smile on your face. "It is."

"Look at you working hard! Nice to see you. How've you been?" he got up on his feet, approaching the counter. You desperately wished he wouldn't get any closer. He ran a hand through his disgruntled hair.

"I've been good." you dryly replied, focusing on counting the money and hoping your cheeks weren't as bright red as they felt.

"Me too, dude, me too. Pretty cool to see your own face all over the most popular store in New York." Aaron grinned.

You widened your eyes, annoyed. "I could imagine. So... Aaron, what are you doing here?"

"Escaping the paparazzi. They can't legally follow me into stores. I left my apartment to grab some coffee and they fucking mobbed me, it was crazy. But now that I'm here, having a jolly old time catching up with an old friend... I'm thinking maybe I'll do a little shopping." he smirked.

Oh, joy.

"Do you guys offer a personal shopping service?"

Your stomach dropped. YOU were the only personal shopper in today. Should you lie to him? Tell him you were closing for lunch? No, you could get fired. And you wouldn't want to send him back out into that paparazzi nightmare, no matter how much he annoyed you. That would just be plain cruel.