A/N:HELLO!

For once, I don't have much to say just enjoy!

(oh, just hold on, always remember this is Anthony PRE Kathony okay, go easy on my boy because he's still stupid)

Anthony thought Starbucks was a safe space. It should be, shouldn't it? It should be as safe and easy as grabbing coffee and chatting with a friend, without worrying about anyone eavesdropping.

"Bridgerton!"

Anthony turned swiftly, unconcerned about spilling his coffee since, unlike most of the heathens around him, he only drank espresso. Double.

"Fife!" he exclaimed, his face lighting up with a wide smile as he caught sight of his friend. "What brings you to this part of town?"

"Oh, you know..." he trailed off, his voice barely audible over the sound of the coffee machine. "Auditions for the Fourth Wing movie."

"Oh," Anthony said, furrowing his brow. "So they're really going ahead with that adaptation, are they?"

"Seems like it," Fife shrugged casually, his gaze fixed on the counter as he waited for his name to be called.

Sipping his coffee with a nod, Anthony's brow furrowed as he stared intently at his cup, lost in thought.

"But I'm sure it won't be as good as yours, obviously," Fife remarked, immediately picking up on Anthony's quiet frustration. If both of these big book adaptations were to be released simultaneously, it could undoubtedly present a challenge down the line.

Anthony blinked, attempting to hide any trace of concern that might have slipped through. With a casual chuckle, he reassured, "That's not something I'm concerned about." He shook his head, the steam from his cup of coffee rising as he raised it to his lips for a casual sip. "I'm just worried about... marketing and advertising and whatnot. It's already concerning as it is."

With a quizzical look and an arched brow, Fife questioned, "Shouldn't your highly paid marketing team be handling that for you?"

With a slight cough, Anthony responded while casually readjusting the strap of his leather bag on his shoulder, "Yeah, but I don't expect them to work miracles if we're not willing to lend a hand."

The dirty blond barista finally called Fife's name, and as he raised his hand to pick up his Americano, he glanced at Anthony with a questioning look. "Why? Did something already happen? I thought production had just begun." His hiring to assist with the casting calls had occurred not too long ago.

With his lips touching the rim of his cup, the director shook his head, silently conveying that nothing had taken place. But then, he tilted his head slightly, a look of contemplation crossing his face as he paused, his mind filled with worries.

"Our main actress is too old," he finally said.

Fife paused, his brow furrowing as he turned his attention to his steaming drink. He blew gently at the rising fumes before inquiring, "How old?"

"Thirty seven," he said, judging her age and casting a reproachful look at his friend's drink, because Anthony Bridgerton was nothing if not a multitasker.

With a shrill scoff, the casting director took a sip of his Americano and nodded, "Yeah that's old. But is she attractive enough?"

Again, Anthony paused mid sip, his head tilting in thought, before finally giving a nod. "Yes," he cleared his throat, his voice slightly husky as he lowered his cup, "I suppose she is."

"Then that's all you need, mate." Fife gave him a friendly pat on the back, and they headed for the exit together. "You know how it is, the number doesn't matter as much if—"

"If the audiences have a nice face to look at," Anthony sighed, his voice filled with resignation, as he opened the glass door for his friend to walk through. " I suppose you're right."

Fife then shrugged with a sense of pride, before confidently stating, "I always am." And with a casual air, he put on his shades and glanced at Anthony, asking, "Shall we catch up on Friday?"

With a hint of uncertainty in his expression, the director replied, "Perhaps."

The other man just shook his head at him and said, "Catch you later, Bridgerton."

"See you," Anthony replied, keeping an eye on Fife as he strolled down the street before continuing on his own path. With less than an hour left until the first table read, he made sure to be punctual, not wanting to risk being late.

However, what he didn't expect was that the main actress from his movie also had a strict policy against being late.

In fact, she even thought about treating herself to a hot drink a few minutes before the table read. She joined the line at the Starbucks on the corner, where she could hear the offensive opinions of the director from the movie she had just been cast in.

When Anthony asked Kate to hold off on leaving the meeting room so they could have a private discussion, she realised she should have immediately made a dash for the door. But she was a stubborn person, and worse, she was proud of it.

Now the sun was setting, and the meeting room was about to be enveloped in darkness because they were apparently too stubborn to even move to turn on the lights. And the only thing occupying her mind was how fortunate Anthony Bridgerton should consider himself that she had already finished her revolting Starbucks chai tea, or else he would have been wearing it on his insufferable face.

"I hope you understand that the only reason I am here is because I refuse to breach contract," she stated firmly, standing resolutely behind her seat, with the meeting table separating them. "Have not done it once in the long thirty-seven years of my life," she said, with a sarcastic emphasis on the word 'long', her face appearing sharper than usual in the half-light. "And here I thought that collaborating with the esteemed Anthony Bridgerton would bring some value to those extensive years, but alas, I was sorely mistaken. Now, if you and everyone involved in this production have a shred of decency, you should terminate this contract on your end."

Anthony just stood there with his mouth wide open. "Shred of—" It was a rather daft comment at a coffee shop. Was that woman completely bonkers? Or simply ignorant? "You do realise that you signed the contract with Mrs Dunbury, not me, correct?" He asked in a patronising tone simply because he felt like it.

Kate scoffed. "So you admit you would if you could."

At that moment, all he could do was stare at her incredulously. When he requested a private conversation with the woman, he had hoped to offer a sincere apology for potentially bruising her pride, and then move on. But why, oh why, was she making it so hard to feel sorry at all?

"Everyone in the industry and beyond knows about your family connection to Agatha Danbury," Kate continued, her voice condescending as she lifted her nose in the air. "Just let me know where to sign and I'll be out of this production."

And in that moment, Anthony realised that the upcoming eight months of his life were going to be a complete nightmare. It was highly probable that it would last even longer, considering the fact that there were three books in the series. If the first movie turned out to be successful, he would undoubtedly direct the remaining two as well. And it would do well, even if it was the last thing he did.

So there was no other explanation for what emerged from his mouth next. He could only be completely insane to want to endure such prolonged torture. But it was as if something eerie washed over him, like a shadow going through his head and turning off all of the reason switches simultaneously.

"I will not do such thing," he said.

Kate widened her eyes, which gave him such profound delight that he couldn't even begin to express.

Drunk on his power to annoy her, he continued, "You were selected as the lead actress for this project, and you have indeed agreed to it, along with everyone involved, whether you like it or not. Should you change your mind, you can breach the contract if you want, but I, for one, will not."

With a look of disbelief, she opened her mouth and then promptly shut it, making her way around the table to stand eye to eye with him. "You just said today that my involvement in this project is detrimental to it," she continued, pointing to the floor as if to emphasise the current day.

She had a valid point and perhaps her presence was increasingly detrimental to the project, but his pride took precedence over everything else.

With an open mouth and a raised eyebrow, he was ready to fire back, but she didn't give him the chance. "That I am an old actress, even though I am younger than you, might I add," she said, narrowing her eyes and looking him up and down as if he were an old raisin about to vanish into ashes from old age.

Finally deciding on what he should reply, he defiantly motioned with his hand towards her and eloquently replied, "Well, I didn't say it to your face!"

Tipping her head back, her face contorted into a grimace of indignation. "Like that's supposed to be better?"

With his face turning red from the stress, he could only mutter, "It's better than making a big scene on your first day because you snooped on a private conversation."

"Oh, please," Kate scoffed, her eyes rolling with disbelief. "As if you and your chauvinistic friends wouldn't relish the opportunity to have your absurd ideas broadcasted to the entire world. Do you honestly believe you're the first director to make inappropriate remarks about me? Let me assure you, you are not special."

After taking a deep breath, Anthony took a decisive step towards her, firmly concluding that she was completely mad. "Have you considered that perhaps the remarks they made had everything to do with your insufferable personality and nothing to do with your looks, let alone your age?"

Her warm brown eyes glimmered with a dangerous glint as she let out a sarcastic laugh at him, saying, "Finally. Just tell me what you're thinking to my face, not behind my back."

Glaring at her, he closed the distance between them, making her tilt her head up to meet his gaze, a challenging task given their similar stature.

"Perfect. Then I can tell you that you are, without a doubt, the most arroganr, ill-tempered, and irrational actress I have ever had the displeasure of working with," he whispered sharply, and she nodded defiantly, her gaze scanning his face from top to bottom. "But because I am a professional, I keep my word. If you decide to break the contract, it's on you, not me. Whether you like it or not, my movie will go on."

As she looked at him, Kate realised she was at an impasse. All she wanted was to escape from that unbearable man's film. At the same time, no way was she going to let him win.

Inhaling sharply from her nose, she simply raised her chin, her eyes meeting his with a determined gaze as she uttered, "See you on Monday."

And with that, she walked to the door before seeing the smirk form on his lips.

"Miss Sharma?" he called as he turned around to face her.

Pausing by the opened door, she turned to glance at him, the faint yellow lights of the hallway seeping into the darkness of the room.

"Let's always stay this honest with each other," he said, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips.

With her jaw clenched tightly, she replied, "Absolutely," before turning on her heels and walking away.

"I know I haven't done a lot of big productions, but is this normal?"

Colin winced as he heard his brother's voice getting louder and louder from the meeting room.

Thankfully, practically everyone had departed to go about their business, but Colin had wanted to remain out of curiosity and the desire to gossip later with the family, given that Anthony had requested Kate Sharma to wait after their table read had concluded.

A decision that Colin was now bitterly, bitterly regretting.

"Not very normal, no," Colin replied, his eyes now fixed on the door as Kate's voice grew louder. He turned to Pen, who had stayed back with him, and nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "But maybe that is normal for Anthony. I wouldn't put it past him."

Then, after hours of waiting outside their conference room and a few more minutes for his boss and the petite redhead to discuss in the corridor to the sound of Anthony Bridgerton shouting, John discovered his opportunity to do something helpful.

"Um. Mr— Colin," he stumbled over his words as Colin shot him a sharp look, quickly correcting himself. "Do you want me to go ahead and order your dinner?"

Abruptly, Penelope spun around, finally becoming aware of the assistant's presence in their ongoing conversation. Colin, in contrast, arched his eyebrows thoughtfully in response to John's question. He then turned to his friend and asked, "What do you fancy for dinner?"

"What?" Penelope was taken aback, nearly leaping in surprise. Since when did he start ordering dinner for her?

"Come on, Pen," he pleaded with a slight pout, "let's have dinner together today. It's been ages since we had a proper talk."

She let out a frustrated sigh while looking at him. This was the thing she hated the most about Colin. He had a way of making her feel important, as if he really cared whether she was there or not. And sometimes she despised the false optimism it brought to her heart, which was one of the reasons they hadn't had a proper talk in ages. That, combined with her disagreement with Eloise and the remarks she had made.

"Fine," she agreed anyway, because she could outgrow many things, but apparently not being a fool for Colin Bridgerton.

His brilliant smile was met with the sudden noise of a door opening, followed by the sound of Kate and Anthony arguing before everything fell silent once more.

Ignoring his brother's antics, he continued, "Alright, so where do you want to eat?" He then turned to John and said, "Do I have any restaurant reservations for today?"

John scratched his head in consideration before grabbing his business phone to check, as Penelope looked at the actor with wide eyes.

"Are you out of your mind? I'm not going to a posh restaurant tonight," she said. Colin might have money, but she definitely did not.

He twisted his face into a sheepish expression, his hands folded in front of him, as he confessed, "I can't really go to a normal restaurant anymore, Pen."

Well, he could, but if he wanted to steer clear of countless photos taken by both the paparazzi and anyone with a mobile, then perhaps not.

John witnessed the exchange between the pair as Penelope fixed her eyes on Colin with a look of complete incredulity, while he meekly met her gaze. Throughout his time working with Colin Bridgerton, he had never witnessed him behave so… normally, except for the occasional moments when he was around his family. Granted, John had only been working for the actor for a few months, but he couldn't deny the uncanny power possessed by the tiny red-haired woman.

"What's the topic of conversation, you two?" Anthony's voice echoed down the hallway as he made his way towards them. "The press shouldn't catch you going out together."

The younger Bridgerton then glanced at his brother with a bewildered expression. "Anthony, it's just dinner."

The director crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, "Just dinner? Colin, are you new to acting? Do you want me to give you the play-by-play?"

Penelope and John's eyes darted between the two siblings, their gaze shifting back and forth like a lively ping-pong match. Penelope's mind raced, trying to decipher Anthony's insinuations, while John simply wanted to know if he should call for dinner reservations.

"It's Pen, we've had thousands of dinners," Colin exclaimed, gesturing towards her with his hand.

Anthony closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not when you were so well-known that the media was snapping pictures of your toilet to check the colour of your piss."

With a forceful scoff, Colin tilted his head back and directed his gaze towards the ceiling. Meanwhile, the girl's forehead creased in confusion as she asked, "Why is it such a problem if the press sees us?"

They could not possibly be implying that people would believe she and Colin were in a relationship, could they? Because that was totally ridiculous, right? Outside the depths of her delusional mind, this was not a normal thought, right? Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton? That was, at best, laughable.

Opening his eyes, Anthony then pointed at Colin in accusation."They will know the two of you are working together on something."

Oh. Tilting her head back, Penelope's face lit up with comprehension. Of course, of course.

Colin, on the other hand, glared at him with his hands on his hips, striking an uncanny resemblance to his older brother. "You're absolutely demented, do you realise that?" It would be forever beyond him while Anthony pretended that everything related to his films was a state-level secret.

Rolling his eyes, the other man dismissed him, saying, "You can talk when you've directed a successful movie. Until then, listen to me—"

With a scoff, Colin said, "Me, listen to you?" He extended his hand in a mocking gesture, as if offering it for a handshake. "Hi, Colin Bridgerton, have we just met?"

Anthony cheekily swatted his brother's hand aside while Penelope wearily covered her eyes.

"Forget about dinner, then!" She exclaimed, raising her hands in the air as she was finally done with the Bridgerton drama. "I will go to my house," she said, pointing at herself, and then gestured towards Colin, "You will go to yours, and poor John here can finally go to his as well."

John, who up until then was watching the scene unfold in a mix of shock and amusement, sharply turned to her, his eyebrows raised in surprise at the fact that this woman he had just met already remembered his name.

"As per usual, that sounds like a sensible idea, Penelope," Anthony smiled at her, while Colin couldn't help but roll his eyes at him.

"No, it doesn't, but I've got an idea," Colin remarked, casually grabbing Penelope's hand and drawing her closer. He then gestured towards Anthony and said, "You head on over to your place. While you and I" he turned to Pen and playfully used their linked hands to gesture between the two of them, "we head over to my place and have dinner."

Penelope could only respond with a blank expression. "Your place."

"Yes, of course." Colin smiled at her, not noticing anything amiss, while Anthony continued to roll his eyes, clearly used to this type of interaction between the two.

Meanwhile, John appeared just as bewildered as Penelope, which was certainly peculiar.

Undeterred, the actor started pulling his friend with him as he walked. "The paparazzis don't usually take pictures of my piss there," she said sarcastically before sending a mock salute to Anthony on his way.

And then he headed for the lift, casually leading Penelope by the hand while John hurriedly followed behind.

"I can't believe you've never seen my flat."

If Penelope were honest, neither could she.

Once upon a time, every aspect of their lives was completely intertwined. Thanks to Eloise, she would often visit his family's home, both in London and in the countryside. They spent countless evenings playing cards and watching films, and during the summer, they would engage in intense games of polo and volleyball with him and the rest of the Bridgertons. They were a fiercely competitive bunch, constantly looking for new ways to outperform one another.

She was also one of the first people to visit the first house he ever purchased.

But things had been different in the past five years. One would typically attribute it to the demands of adulthood, the pressures of an acting career, and a variety of other factors that made maintaining friendships in adulthood difficult.

But none of them were true in this case.

The sight of Colin's numerous awards displayed prominently above the fireplace served as a poignant reminder to Penelope of the years she had spent actively moving on from her past. If she wasn't at every Bridgerton party, or constantly calling Colin, or sharing every detail and concern about her acting roles, it wasn't because she had a packed schedule. It was because she needed the distance.

"Pretentious, isn't it?" he asked from his kitchen island when he noticed the girl eyeing his collection of awards. When she turned to him, she saw him meticulously cleaning his fine crystal wine glasses, a dishcloth casually draped over his strong shoulder—a domestic scene that filled Penelope with a longing sigh.

"Mama went ahead and sorted them out without me knowing when she helped with the move. She thinks I should be just as proud of my achievements as Francesca and Benedict." Walking over the island towards the dinner table, he shook his head and took his time arranging the glasses, making sure they were perfectly aligned. "I don't see the need but—"

"Always your mother's boy," Penelope finished for him.

Colin paused his actions to observe her, noticing her raised eyebrow and the charming smile forming on her lips.

"Something like that," he confessed with a hint of embarrassment, as if he would only admit it to her.

With a nod, she averted her eyes to her feet, concealing the blossoming infatuation that had transformed her smile. She bit her lip and glanced up once more, observing Colin as he continued to move about his kitchen, seemingly on the hunt for a corkscrew.

"Need a hand with anything?" she inquired, mentally scolding herself for absentmindedly exploring his flat instead of assisting him with their meal.

Colin glanced at her while struggling to uncork the wine, nodding towards the Pizza box on his kitchen counter. "Grab a slice for yourself and one for me, and I'll join you in a moment."

Penelope chuckled, heading to his kitchen and teasingly said, "You know, for someone who promised me a fancy dinner today, this is a bit disappointing."

"I beg your pardon?" He looked at her in mock offence, his eyebrows furrowing and his jaw dropping as he pointed to the bottle in his hands, saying, "I'm bringing you some wine, you know. A rather pricey one, I must say."

Her mouth formed a perfect "oh" shape as her eyebrows rose. "I'm sorry, I should have felt honoured sooner."

He shook his head at her, victorious as he finally managed to conquer the stubborn cork, a smile playing on his lips. Meanwhile, she obediently grabbed two slices as requested and gracefully placed one on each plate before taking her seat at the table.

As Colin approached her, she had a brief moment to notice that he had prepared a beautifully arranged table, despite the fact that they were simply having pizza. First, there were plates, then, of course, the wine, and he even lit a candle in the centre of the table. If she hadn't known Colin for decades, she might even suspect this to be a date.

However, she knew him well enough to know that was probably the last thing on his mind.

So, after clearing her throat and mind, she returned to the previous subject: "So, how are they? Franny and Ben, I mean."

Inhaling deeply, he placed a hand on his hip and nonchalantly uttered, "They're alright, I suppose," while standing beside her seat, pouring the wine into her glass with the finesse of a professional server. He then took his own seat, poured wine for himself with far less decorum. "Fran is in Germany, as you know," he lifted his glass and took a large drink. "Rehearsing so hard that the Philharmonic might need to raise a bust in her honour."

"Well, it seems like there haven't been any updates on her end," Penelope quipped, and Colin nodded in agreement.

Francesca developed a strong love for her piano lessons from a young age. While others were preoccupied with schools and colleges, she dedicated her days to playing and composing music. Penelope thought she had never encountered someone quite as unique and gifted. It came as no surprise when the Berlin Philharmonic extended an invitation for her to perform with them.

As she brought the pizza slice to her mouth and took a bite, she inquired, "And what about Ben?"

Colin nonchalantly placed his glass back on the table and said, "Has an exhibition lined up at the MoMA."

The slice slipped from Penelope's hands and fell back onto the plate, her eyes widening in disbelief. "You're kidding," she exclaimed.

"No," Colin exclaimed, shaking his head with flair as he grabbed his own pizza, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "He's been unbearable for weeks."

"Colin, that's incredible!" she said, unable to contain her excitement as she reached out and gave his arm a friendly squeeze. "I can hardly believe it."

It was almost like a member of her own family had achieved something remarkable. As she grew older and entered adulthood, she recalled the challenges that Benedict faced when he made the decision to pursue a career as a painter. It's true that his family's wealth and connections gave him a head start, but being as determined as any Bridgerton, he faced challenges in establishing himself as an artist and showcasing his talent independent of his family's reputation. And it seems he had managed to pull it off. Just like all Bridgertons did, eventually.

Penelope reclined in her chair, shaking her head with a glimmer of amusement in her bright blue eyes."That Bridgerton blood is seriously lucky."

Holding a slice of pizza in his hand, Colin stared at her, his eyes narrowing as he spoke, "So is the Featherington blood."

With a scoff, Penelope reached for her wine once more, her fingers grasping the cool glass. "Sure, lucky in making countless unsuccessful red-haired women perhaps."

"Pen." He leaned in closer to the table, as if sharing a significant secret with her. "You were cast in the same movie as me," he said, implying that they both achieved similar levels of success.

Which was not true, but it was a nice sentiment nonetheless.

"Yes, we were, weren't we," she trailed off, lost in thought as she contemplated the sheer insanity of that simple fact.

Colin displayed his agreement with a nod, settling back in his chair before reaching for his glass once more. However, after he took a sip and gently returned the glass to the table, his eyes remained fixated on it, deep in thought, his fingers rhythmically tapping against the stem.

"What is it?" she whispered, her voice barely a breath as she quickly noticed his contemplative stance.

He pursed his lips and took a big breath before stating, "I need to be honest with you, Pen. There's a specific reason why I wanted us to have this dinner. A rather significant one."

Penelope's breath caught in her throat. She had never seen Colin so jittery, and it made her feel on edge too. Once again, she couldn't help but notice that if this had happened a few years ago, that dinner and his demeanour would have made her wonder if he was about to confess his feelings for her. However, she was older now and had given up on fairytales, with only anxiety remaining about his attitude.

"I'm... worried," he said, finally meeting her gaze with his piercing blue eyes. "About the movie."

She blinked. That was unexpected. Colin had been acting in major productions for years; he was even attending the Oscars now, for crying out loud. She was the one who exclusively appeared in indie films, mini series, and questionable sitcoms — the one who seemed completely out of place in a movie like that. But him? What could possibly make him nervous?

"Listen, Pen," he said, fidgeting in his chair and gazing at his plate with a concerned expression. "You've never experienced a production quite like this, and I have to say, it can be quite brutal. Not the production itself, but everything else."

"Everything else?" she inquired, and he lifted his gaze to meet hers, the soft glow of the candlelight illuminating his features.

He raised his eyebrows as he gave a simple answer. "The press. The fans."

"Oh." Penelope replied, reclining in her chair and reaching for her glass, only to discover it was already drained. Despite what Anthony had said before, it wasn't until that precise moment that she suddenly realised she would also soon become a subject of the media's attention.

"Well, there's definitely the pressure to do a good job, and working with Anthony might turn out to be a complete nightmare," Colin remarked, casually reaching for the wine bottle next to him and gesturing for Penelope to pass him her glass. As she obliged, he poured it for her and went on, "But you'll be in the spotlight like never before, and let me tell you, that's the absolute worst."

She swiftly snatched her glass from his hands, contemplating whether to down its contents all at once before uttering, "Okay..."

"I don't doubt your ability to handle it, Pen, that's not what I'm trying to say." He swiftly waved his hands before she got the wrong idea, to which she silently shook her head as if to reassure him he didn't need to fret. "Honestly, even the most experienced people struggle with this. How we are seen, that is. Everything we say, do, or how we look is always being watched by the public, and sometimes we can't change what a journalist or even a fan says, no matter how hard we try."

Finally, she downed her drink in one swift motion, feeling the astringent, tannic taste linger on her tongue as she placed the glass back on the table. "So basically," she swallowed hard, her throat still tingling from the wine, "there is nothing I can do, is what you're saying."

"Yes and no," he said, raising his index finger, causing Penelope to clench her fists in frustration. "Knowing Agatha, she will force everyone to go through media training—at least everyone who hasn't," he said, quickly glancing away, knowing for sure Penelope would be one of them. "But what really matters is having the proper mindset. Sometimes it's better to accept that there's nothing we can do and that it's not our fault, rather than thinking we can alter the way this works."

Raising an eyebrow, she gave a slight nod. Colin seemed to be hinting at some sort of impending catastrophe while also offering vague suggestions on how to deal with it. However, she wasn't entirely oblivious to the workings of the public eye, having made a few blunders and being compelled to publicly apologise for a foolish remark. Nevertheless, it seemed that the standards she would be judged by were about to become enormous.

"So, I just wanted to give you a heads up, before... you know, everything," he said, his gaze fixed on her eyes. "And I want you to know that I'll be there to look out for you."

"Colin," she murmured, closing her eyes and letting out a weary sigh, knowing deep down that making such promises was unnecessary. Especially considering what they did to her heart.

Feeling his warm hand in hers, she slowly opened her eyes and locked gazes with him once more.

"I will always protect you," he squeezed her hand, making sure she knew he meant it. In that moment, with his piercing gaze locked on her, she couldn't help but believe him.

He smiled as he saw that she had heard him. Releasing her hand, he raised his own hand in the air, his pinky finger sticking out. "Promise me," he said, "that whatever happens, we won't let it affect our friendship."

Incredulously, Penelope opened her mouth and fought back laughter as she watched a thirty-three-year-old man request a pinky swear, of all things. "Colin, we haven't done that since we were ten." He then tilted his head, a mischievous smile forming on his lips, as he always loved reminding her he was older. "Since I was seven and you were ten," she corrected herself.

Undaunted by her scepticism, he merely held his pinky finger closer to her. "Trust me," he said, his sincerity evident in his voice, "only the power of this pinky swear can conquer the fanwars awaiting us." His words made her burst into laughter, throwing her head back.

When she looked back at him, he was smiling again, his eyes crinkling with warmth. "I mean it," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "Before the madness begins, Pen. Let's promise each other right here and now that we won't let it affect our friendship."

Recognising its significance to him, she nodded, intertwining her delicate pinky finger with his.

"I promise," she said, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Blind Item #13

This member of a well-known British family has recently entered into a relationship with someone from another prominent British family.

A/N:AND THAT IS IT!

I believe many must know this already but many gossips start as "blind items" showing up without names in certain websites so, I suppose I will be showing many types of gossip in this fic.

Don't forget your kudos and comments as they are always deeply appreciated

And, see you! God bless you