Limelight || A Shourtney Story

.03 hold down the register (courtney)

"Well, this is our stop," declared Damien. The cab rolled gently to a halt in front of a luxe apartment complex.

There must have been at least 30 floors, with balconies and wide windows lining each story. The grand entrance of the building boasted multiple doormen with white-glove service. The air smelt distinctly of fresh pine, though there was not a branch of foliage in sight. Scattered car horns echoed across the streets of West Hollywood.

The work out t-shirt, jeans, and converse that Courtney sported suddenly felt heavy out of place. She would surely stick out like a sore thumb. A pit grew in her stomach as she realized that she didn't exactly have other clothes to change into.

Trying to make light of the situation, she gently quipped, "Good thing I packed light."

Damien's sympathetic smile warmed her heart.

She followed him into the building, shouldering the purse that contained her few belongings. The inside of the building was just as she suspected - minimalist, clean, and expensive as hell. She didn't dare touch anything for fear of breaking it.

After a brisk walk, she followed Damien into the elevator. The doorman greeted him briefly and pressed the "PH1" button, causing it to glow in faint orange letters.

Her stomach churned. "You live in a penthouse?"

"It's a temporary spot," he defended. "My agent arranged it. I'm paying month to month until I either find a roommate or a one-bedroom."

She chuckled in disbelief. Trust Damien to make light of his Hollywood money.

The elevator doors whirred open, and the clean space was so characteristically Damien that she couldn't help but smile. Despite the enormous size of the common area, his agent's decorating managed to make it feel cozy. Damien's various video game posters were framed and hung across several walls, with little knick-knacks from previous roles and promotions scattered across a large bookshelf.

The kitchen and living room alone were the size of Courtney's entire apartment back home. She suddenly felt another pang of imposter's syndrome.

Cautious steps followed Damien's lead as he tossed his suitcase aside and collapsed onto the living room sectional. The blond sat next to him, sinking slowly into the black leather.

The last time she sat down on a couch like this was the previous night. Her hesitation rendered her speechless. Darkness began to saturate in her mind. The paralyzed fear trickled into her bloodstream. She had a hunch something bad was going to happen when she sat next to David on the couch. Why did she ignore it at first?

Watery tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked furiously to remove them as quickly as possible. Damien didn't need to see that. He was already doing so much for her.

"Want to order dinner in? There's a dope ramen spot down the block that delivers," Damien smiled, eyes focused on his iPhone. His feet kicked onto the coffee table as he aimlessly scrolled through his emails.

"Sounds great," she replied weakly.

His glanced picked up at her wary tone, detecting her pain. "Hey, you okay?"

"Just still trying to process. It just hit me that I have no apartment, no job, and no plan to get my life together," she sighed, burying her face in her hands.

"Aw, Court," he sympathized. A warm arm slung around her thin shoulders to offer some comfort. "We're gonna figure this out."

With that supportive gesture, Damien placed an order for two spicy ramen bowls, adding an extra side of spicy oil for the pair. About half an hour later, their food arrived. Courtney dug into her noodles as soon as possible - she hadn't had an appetite since last night. One look at the tangy, orange broth was enough to set her mouth watering.