The Story Of Our Lives

Mr. Handsome

Ludmila's POV

I can't believe it's been three days since we got to New York, and I haven't bought a single pair of shoes yet. The stupid paparazzi are annoying as hell. This time, I don't even care if Diego comes with me. I have to go and get my shopping done. Even if it means I have to hide my flawless self. Before heading out, I put on a trench coat, a pair of sunglasses and wrapped a floral scarf around my head to conceal my identity. As I was walking down a secluded street, a tall man approached me. He started walking beside me as if he were an acquaintance of mine.

“I know your secret. I'll keep it if you let me interview you.” he whispered to me. He was a little too close for my liking.

I stepped away from him.“I don'know who the hell you are. ”

The man smirked. “Will Brandt, reporter for the CelebScoop magazine. Don't push me, Ms. Ferro, or I'll expose your secret.” I couldn't believe he had recognized me.

“I didn't know tabloid reporters were so cheap.” I told him, trying to walk away. He grabbed my hand and stopped me.

“I'm serious. If I don't get this interview, my boss will fire me. If I go down, you go down with me.” he said.

That's when I decided to fight back. I slowly slipped my hand into my purse. As he went on about the consequences of me not giving him an exclusive interview, my fingers closed around a can of pepper spray. I grasped the perfect opportunity and relentlessly sprayed him him the face. He immediately let go of my hand and screamed in blinding pain. I quickly made a run for it down the street and turned into a crowded road. People were looking at me. To save myself from further embarassment, I blindly bolted into a narrow alleyway and crouched behind a dumpster.

“May I help you?” a voice said.

I flinched. “Woah, you scared me , you moron!”

“Sorry. By the way, isn't it a little too hot out to be wearing that?” he asked. To be honest, I wasn't that angry with the guy. He was good looking, with gelled-up brown hair and big doe eyes.

“I don't see how that matters to you.” I told him. I turned back around, to see if that stalker reporter guy was on my tail.

“What's wrong?” Mr. Handsome asked me.

“Nothing,” I replied, when he whipped out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter, and stuck one in his mouth. He exhaled the smoke as I coughed and shot him a disgusted look. All my opinions about him vanished when he lit that thing.

“I'm Federico, by the way.” he said. “Why're you looking at me like that?”

“No reason. I'm Ludmila. And I'm late.” I told him, brushing the dirt off my coat.

“Late for what?” he asked. He was basically sucking lung disease out of a piece of cardboard.

“Stuff. God, I hope the paparazzi don't find out about me.” I told myself.

“Wait- paparazzi? Are you like, famous?”

I took off my sunglasses. “I'm Ludmila Ferro.”

“Who?”

My eyes widened. “You haven't heard of me?”

“No.” he stated bluntly.

“I'm the princess of pop.” I told him. I mean, what's a name without a status to go with it?

“Uh huh.” He said uninterestedly. He threw the stub of his cigarette on the ground and put it out by stepping on it. “I'd better get going, I have to get to college.” He began to walk off.

“What do you mean, 'uh huh'?” I asked him. I followed him until he got to the corner of a street and whistled loudly. A cab pulled up near the sidewalk.

“See you around, princess.” he said, as he winked at me and got in. The cab drove off.

Why hasn't Mr. Handsome heard of me?