"Mr. Eaton! Mr. Eaton!" A chorus of yells springs up around me, and a blue clothed arms swings across my cheek. I swat it away impatiently and grip my recording device even closer to me. A few extremely crazed, high-on-Starbucks reporters ahead of me is the most gorgeous person I've ever seen; Tobias Eaton. Ruining it for me, but also completing the scene, is his girlfriend, the famous model Shauna. She is flawless, from her rich brown hair to her gold hoop earrings. Even her casual jeans and dark blue sweater look amazing. My gaze flicks back to Tobias Eaton.
He lifts a hand, and his sleeve falls away from his wrist. I see his watch, and blink a few times. From a big shot actor like him, I'd expect him to wear a nice watch, maybe a diamond encrusted Rolex. But his watch is only one of those performance watches that monitors heartbeats and whatnot. My dad collected watches, so I know more than the average person.
"No questions," he says in his deep voice. He lowers his arm again and his sleeve falls to cover the watch again. The other reporters surge forward after him, but I stay in place. I've been in this business long enough to know that "no questions" means "no questions." Tobias Eaton disappears into his hotel. I hear a loud sigh behind me and turn. There, with her camera propped on her shoulder, is my business partner, Christina.
"The other cameras were in the way," she tells me, flicking a shiny strand of dark hair from her cheek. She is much prettier than I am, at 5'8" with warm brown skin, desirable curves, and shiny black hair that falls in a sleek curtain around her shoulders and ends with a flash of gold. Then there's me, with my pale skin and dull blond hair, my grayish blue eyes and lowly height. Everything I hate to see on the rare occasion when I dare look in the mirror.
"Damn," I reply, and turn off my little recorder. No way I got good footage on it anyway. I tuck it into the pocket of my jeans and pull my black jacket down over the pocket for good measure. The wind lifts my hair off my shoulders and spins it in a tiny tornado around my head. I push it impatiently back. There are the certain disadvantages of living in Chicago.
We climb into our Channel Eight news van, me in the passenger seat and Christina at the wheel after she carefully sets her camera down in the back. I run a hand over the top of my head and stare out the window, watching the hotel shrink further and further into the distance before another building rises up and replaces it. I imagine Tobias Eaton is in his room by now, maybe looking down on the street below. Never knowing our names.
The van stops at a busy intersection. I take the time to pull out my phone, in its simple white case, and check the time. We will be just on time back to our news headquarters. Good. Our boss, Eric, does not like to be kept waiting. In a few minutes, we are in the parking lot and stepping out into the cool September day.
As soon as we walk through the front doors, Eric is coming towards us. He is wearing one of his trademark navy suits and a matching tie. A permanent scowl rests on is face, and I groan quietly. He's in a bad mood. "Finally back, are you?" Eric runs a hand over his short hair in agitation. "Did you get footage on Tobias Eaton?"
I do not want to be the one to tell him, but I speak. "No. The crowd was too thick." I wait for an outburst, the anger I am so used to. But he clenched his jaw and stays quiet, which is dangerous for him. It means there is more to come.
"Who was there?" he growls through clenched teeth. His assistant, a young girl with glasses and a neat blond braid, hands him a stack of carefully sorted papers. He snatches them and stares at them. "Get back to work, Cara." He scans the papers quickly before staring at us again.
"Chanel Three, Channel 11, WRT3, and a few others," Christina reports. He grumbles something under his breath and slams the papers down on his desk. A few flutter to the floor, and in that moment he looks exactly like one of the movie made angry bosses.
Eric's phone rings, and he glares at us. "I will expect you to find Me. Eaton again tomorrow and get us some footage," he growls. "Now get out." The phone insists on ringing and he picks it up, answering in a surprisingly calm voice. Eric is like that when he talks to customers; he goes from crazy angry to the Eric everyone else sees, calm and calculated.
I say goodbye to Christina, and we part ways. The street is bathed in dusk light, the time of day when it is too light to turn on the streetlamps but too dark to see much. I see a mother and her little girls running along the sidewalk behind me, wearing matching Chicago shirts. That is another one of the bad things about Chicago; the amount of tourists is unbelievably bad. They are everywhere. But even so, I smile at the little girls as they barrel past, and again at the mom who apologizes before chasing after her daughters.
My apartment is only a few blocks away, so I prefer to walk home from work. I pass the storefronts that are bright with merchandise, and the darker ones that have closed already. Cars stream past in an endless path, and I smile this time as the wind hits me. No matter how many flaws it has, there is no place I'd rather live than here in Chicago.
I reach the apartment and take the elevator up to the fifth floor. I pull my key out of my purse and unlock the door marked E12. Inside is my ever happy, pumped up roommate, Marlene. We have been friends for so long that I've stopped counting the years. Next to her on the couch with a glass of wine in his hand is her boyfriend, Uriah. He waves when I walk in and casts a winning smile at me like I am a celebrity. I roll my eyes but can't hold back a grin. Uriah has that effect on people.
"I hope you don't mind, I invited him over." Marlene says, pushing her brown hair back from her face. She grins at me, too, and lifts her glass of wine to her mouth. Uriah jabs her in the ribs and she lurches forward, almost spilling the wine, and erupts into laughter. I smile at them.
"Its fine. I'll be in my room." I tell them, and open the door bridging off from the kitchen. It's small, with only a bed and a dresser and nothing else. White walls. White sheets. Darkness out the window, where they have finally turned on the streetlights. I sit on my bed and sigh. Before I allow myself the wonderful pleasure of sleep, I have to find out where Tobias Eaton will be tomorrow. I pull my laptop out from under my bed and lay across my bed, opening it.
Smiling out at me from my desktop is me and my brother Caleb, when he visited a few months ago. I watch the picture for a moment before opening the browser. Tobias Eaton is visiting for a poster signing of his new movie, Night Watchmen. Secretly, I can't wait to see it. He's my favorite actor by far, and my biggest celebrity crush. Not that I share such things with the public.
The signing is tomorrow in his hotel lobby. I quickly search his hotel, and the times. To ensure a good place to shoot before the other reporters roll in I will have to get there several hours before the event starts. It starts at 7 in the morning. With a small groan, I close the computer lid and tuck it safely back under my bed. I venture back out, quietly so I don't alert Marlene or Uriah, and brush my teeth in our bathroom.
That night, I have no dreams, and the night drones on and on.
I wake to the annoying sound of my alarm chirping away. I click it off and slide out of bed. It is four in the morning, and I need to be fast. I take a shower in the dark, acting like it is a few extra minutes of sleep. Then I shut the water off and change into...well, my nicest work clothes. It may sound funny, but if I might be talking to Tobias freaking Eaton I want to look my best.
Marlene isn't even near awake yet when I slip out of the apartment and take the elevator down. It seems to move painstakingly slowly, and I tap my foot impatiently until the doors slide open. I hurry out and practically hog down the sidewalk to my building. Not many cars are out now, just a few. I am the only person I see walking on the sidewalk, besides a man in front of me wearing a dark jacket with the hood up.
I do what I always seem to; my eyes travel down their arm to their wrist, where the watch would be. It is a fitness watch, like the one Tobias Eaton had been wearing. The chances of this being him are so low I almost laugh at myself, but I still speed up my steps just a little bit, until I almost catch up with him. He must hear my footsteps because he turns around, and I feel my jaw literally drop.
Tobias Eaton stares back at me, and he has dark blue eyes that are suddenly meeting mine. I can't think or breathe. He quickly turns around and hurries on. I don't think; I just follow him. "You're Tobias Eaton," I say in a low voice. He glances around before settling me in a deep stare.
"Don't call attention to me." His voice, oh sweet lord. When he is addressing my directly. I take a deep breath in. I cannot stand here like an idiot. I have a job to do. But at the same time...if I am just a reporter, will he ever even talk to me anyway? He is infamous for never talking to the press unless he has to.
"I won't," I say, and he stops and turns to face me. He lifts one dark eyebrow like he doesn't believe me. "I'm serious. I won't." He sighs and turns into a coffee shop. I follow him in. For some reason, I am oddly calm for being this close to Tobias Eaton. The very person I think about all the time. He orders a coffee and I quickly grab a muffin. He sits in a two person booth, and I sit across from him.
"What do you want?" Tobias Eaton growls, glaring across the table at me. "An autograph? A picture with me?" He takes a sip of coffee before adding, "If I do one of those will you leave me alone?" It feels like a slap to the face. I feel my lips squeeze together in a straight line, my telltale sign of annoyance.
"No. I just want to sit and have a conversation with you, like normal people." It sounds so stupid, I wish I could take it back. After all, Tobias Eaton is not the kind of person you have a normal conversation with.
The corner of his mouth twitches, almost like he is suppressing a smile. "Well that's new." He takes a long sip of coffee and considers for a moment. "Though I don't think random strangers usually have conversations."
"Well we're having one, right now." I say, and cross my arms in front of me. He is so darn recognizable, from his gorgeous dark blue eyes to his perfectly dark chestnut hair, even the tiny bit of stubble on his chin. But I cannot keep looking at him like that or I am almost positive he will write me off as another crazed girl that wants to kiss him. Only one of those things is true.
This time, his lip curls slightly. "When I don't even know your name," he says, and lifts his eyebrow again. Gosh, even a simple movement like that looks good on him. He has a girlfriend, I think sternly to myself. Not like he'd ever even think of a shapeless, unattractive, plain person like me in that way.
"Tris." I say, in a low voice. "Tris Prior."
Hello all! I am maturebel. I appreciate that you have taken the time to read my story, hope you enjoyed! On a side note, I saw Insurgent at the premiere and it was absolutely amazing. What did you guys think of the movie?