Hollywood Politics {BoyxBoy}

Chapter 7 - Don't Cry Over Spilt Coffee

Max’s POV

I watched as Ryan opened the box, a wide smile on his pink lips as he saw what was inside. I thought back to one year ago and wondered whether he remembered it the same as I did. The day that would shape our lives from that day onwards.

*One Year Ago*

‘Aria! I refuse to date her!’

‘Why!?’ My publicist asked me as I waited for my coffee, her voice was loud and demanding in my ear. The rustic coffee shop around me was bustling with people, who was I kidding, this was LA, everywhere was bustling with people, and this place was no different. Its wooden tables and high backed chairs were filled with people, sipping coffees and typing quickly on laptops or talking with their friends.

‘She got out of rehab, like, what? A week ago?’ I asked her and the silence before she replied answered me in itself.

‘She is perfect for your image Max!’ She tried to cover, but no way. I was not going to go to dinner with that woman, let alone date her, which is what Aria was trying to convince me to do. She would learn sooner or later that I wasn’t going to be a serial dater, breaking women’s hearts. I would go to functions with them, but not date them for my image.

‘Not happening Aria.’

‘Fine, I’ll find someone else,’ She huffed, obviously exasperated with my outrageous demands as a client. Note the sarcasm.

My name was called by the barista and I happily waltzed up to the counter, collecting my cappuccino. 

‘Thank-you,’ I told Aria before hanging up.

I focussed my attention on putting my phone back into my pocket as I left the Café and was surprised when I ran into someone, my coffee spilling all over my hand and their shoes.

‘Awch,’ I shook the coffee off of my hand.

‘Crap, I am so sor-’ I started, but when I looked up and met the eyes of the person I had ran into I froze.

The eyes which met mine were the deepest blue I had ever seen and I was fixated on them. They belonged, I soon realised, to a handsome guy, his light skin suited perfectly with his brown hair which was almost light enough to be called blonde in the bright LA sun we were currently standing in.

‘Yeah, you better be sorry!’ The guy said, his plump pink lips moving fast, ‘These were my new Chuck Taylors.’

I looked down and the black and white shoes on his feet, just below his purple jeans, were covered in coffee. He was staring at them desperately, as if they would suddenly become clean if he put enough focus into it.

‘Can I buy you a coffee or something?’ I asked him for three reasons, one because I wanted an excuse to spend more time with the adorable guy, two because I just spilt my coffee all over him and I felt bad about that, and three because I had just dropped my coffee, and me without coffee is like unleashing a wild bear in a crowded park. There will be murders. And they will not be pretty.

‘Uh sure,’ He said and I smiled walking into the Café again, the man following behind me. We ordered but this time we were directed to a small table near the back of the Café, one of the few that wasn’t filled.

He sat down opposite me, ‘They were my favourite shoes,’ he pouted and I wished so badly to kiss those pouty lips. My brain tried to tell me that I didn’t even know the guy, who looked to be a year or two younger than me, but I didn’t listen to it.