Like the description says, this is just a short piece I wrote for my Creative Writing class. It's about meeting Katie McGrath at a convention, but from her perspective - with a few thoughts of other convention-visitors mixed in.
She smiles as the next person comes into view. The queue is long, it stretches behind the screen until she can't even see the end of it. It's at the very least three times as long as the lines of some of the others.
It doesn't look like she hugs people. Maybe next time I should get her a present so I get a hug from her?
"Hi! You look so cute!" She sounds completely sincere. The blue-eyed girl looks down at her feet, a faint blush creeping up on her cheeks, mumbling something unintelligible which is presumably meant as a thank you. She puts her arm around the stranger, noticing through the thin fabric of the girl's shirt that there's a slight tremor in her arms. The light flashes, the shutters of the camera click, and it's on to the next one.
She called me pretty! Wait, was it pretty, or cute? Or was it sweet? It's always just sweet.
"I'm so sorry, but I don't like being picked up off the ground," she says apologetically. The line has to be drawn somewhere, and refusing to be carried bridal style by someone she met ten seconds ago does not seem unreasonable. The admittedly muscular blonde in front of her protests, but she's an actress, not a prostitute.
I hope she remembers me from this morning, it seemed like we really connected over our shared love of historical fiction.
She suppresses a shiver. The room is cold. Would it be too much to ask one of the attendants for a cup of tea? She thinks of her couch at home, 3000 miles away, her soft skull blanket still strewn haphazardly across.
Fingers crossed I don't have to actually talk to that chick… I've no clue what she's even in.
"Hug on the ground," the attendant says, and she sits back down on the ground obligingly. She just got up forty seconds ago, but she supposes this is good for her leg muscles. She pulls her chin back slightly, lowers her eyebrows and fashions her face into the signature evil smirk she knows they go wild over.
Jesus Christ, that red lipstick. Can she just make out with me already?
The elastic in her hair tugs painfully at her scalp. The high ponytail she's wearing looks much better than a casual messy bun, but she should really remind herself to bring Nurofen to these things. At least she remembered to wear sneakers instead of heels. And apparently the mousey girl with a baseball cap standing next to her likes the black and white Adidas.
I'm so nervous I think I might throw up.
"I really don't understand how from that two-hour movie, all anyone seems to remember is the thirty seconds I'm in." She laughs, although she's flattered, of course. "Chris is such a great guy."
If you'd like to read about how my own experience meeting Katie McGrath was, please let me know - I'd be up for writing that!