Dreams of Stardom (Hollywood SI)

After what felt like an impossibly long night, Scarlett was finally resting against my chest. She wore one of my t-shirts, oversized on her frame, the hem just brushing the tops of her thighs. We could have stayed at her place longer to get her clothes, but I didn't want her to stay there any longer than strictly necessary. She was shaken, her hands trembling even in the car. Waiting there any longer would mean questioning by the police, which would take hours. She looked like she'd fall apart if we'd stayed there even a minute longer.

On the drive over, Scarlett had made call after call, friends, family, anyone who needed to know what had almost happened to her. Their worried voices spilled through the speaker, filling the silence between us. She kept glancing out the window, fingers clenched tightly in her lap, like she was expecting him to reappear at any moment.

Since we arrived, she hadn't let me out of her sight. Not even for a moment. When she changed into my shirt, I turned away to give her privacy, but she still asked me to stay close. Heck, even when she went to the bathroom. Now, things had finally settled into something that resembled calm.

But sleep wouldn't come for me. My mind buzzed with everything that had happened. It was too much, too fast, and the adrenaline hadn't yet drained from my system completely.

A whisper broke the silence. "Are you awake, Troy?"

"Yes," I said softly. "What is it?"

"I can't sleep," she admitted. "That man's face keeps flashing in my head. The way he looked at me, what he said… I…"

I gently pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh. Don't think about it. I know how that feels. Something similar happened to me about four years ago."

Scarlett made a quiet, pained sound. "I remember that. But you got out of it on your own. I couldn't do anything to save myself." Her voice cracked as her eyes welled up.

I pulled her even closer and kissed her forehead. "You're safe now. You're with me. No one's going to even touch you. I promise."

She exhaled shakily and relaxed against me, her muscles finally starting to unclench.

After a moment, I said, "I've trained in self-defense since I was a kid. If you think it might help you feel more secure, I could show you some basics."

She didn't answer right away, but I could tell she was considering it.

After a few moments she groaned, "Now everyone will know about us, won't they?"

I grimaced, "It can't be helped. We can't deny or lie about what happened. I purchased some flowers on the way to your place, and I told them it was for a date. After what happened, the news is bound to come out sooner or later. Then there were the two police officers and your neighborhood security team. At least one of them will give out the full details of the incident to the media.

"You should consider replacing them. If someone got past my team without my clearance, they'd be out of a job immediately. Even John. He should have accompanied you in to make sure everything was okay."

Scarlett frowned, thinking it over. "You're right. I'll speak with the neighbors and bring it up. John wasn't at fault, though. When I hired him, he wanted to come in before me to check for intruders, but I thought he was being paranoid, so I didn't let him do it. Maybe I should hire more dedicated security guards, just for me."

It made sense. Her neighborhood used a shared security team that rotated shifts between houses. But that wasn't much use if no one was there to save you when it mattered the most.

"By the way, what will we tell the media about us?" She asked after a few moments.

"Why do we have to tell them anything at all?" I shot back. "Let them think what they want. We don't owe anyone an explanation."

She separated from me a little and looked me straight in the eye, "Okay, but at least tell me where we are..."

She let the sentence trail off, but the meaning hung in the air. I didn't know how to answer her. The truth was, I wasn't even sure about where we stood. While I had decided after Rihanna that I didn't want a serious girlfriend for a few years, there was something about Scarlett that almost compelled me to ignore everything and just be with her. Maybe it was her maturity, or maybe it was just me longing for the only girl who was mature enough for me, who was interested in me as well.

But that came with its own complication.

I wasn't ready. Not for a relationship. Not for someone like Scarlett, who still believed in love the way young women often did: romantic, hopeful, maybe even a little idealistic. I was none of those things. In my first life, I never had a lasting relationship, and not for lack of effort on my end.

My childhood had been a mess, hollowed out by neglect and trauma. That emptiness followed me into adulthood. I longed for closeness so badly that I would cling to anyone who showed me affection. As soon as a relationship ended, I would jump into another, trying to fill a void that never seemed to close. At first, a lot of women were open-minded, accepting me despite my profession. But it never lasted. The longest relationship I'd managed was a few months—just long enough for them to realize how fucked up I was.

I didn't want Scarlett to see that side of me.

"Troy?" Scarlett's voice pulled me back. She cupped my cheek, her hand soft and steady, her gaze filled with tenderness. "What is it?"

"I don't think I'm good enough for you," I admitted, the words escaping before I could stop them. "I don't think I'm good enough for any woman who dreams of love and forever. I didn't want to mislead you."

She stared at me in stunned silence, as though she couldn't believe what she had just heard. The room felt still, suspended, until she finally spoke.

"That was…" she hesitated, searching for the right word, "...the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say. Ever."

I blinked, taken aback, and started to speak, but she placed a finger on my lips, silencing me.

"Shhh. Let me finish," she said. "You saved me tonight from something I wouldn't wish on my enemies. I'm not exaggerating when I say I would've rather died than go through what that monster had in mind. You stepped in and protected me. That alone makes you more desirable to me than any man I've ever known."

Her voice was quiet, but every word landed like thunder.

"I'm not looking for a fairy tale," she continued. "I'm not chasing some grand fantasy. I just want a life where I can be myself, where my partner accepts me, and the career I've chosen. As you know, our line of work doesn't make that easy."

I nodded, the truth of it sinking deep. My last real relationship had fallen apart for the same reason. I had tried hard to save it, but the distance between us, our clashing schedules, and Jay-Z's interference eventually unraveled whatever we were trying to build.

"I want a man who's loyal to me and me alone," Scarlett said softly. "And I'd return the favor without question. I saw you with your ex. You were faithful and completely dedicated to her. I want a man just like that."

Her voice was calm, but there was weight behind her words—an unspoken belief in me that I wasn't sure I deserved.

I remembered our time shooting [Disturbia], when I'd sensed Scarlett's interest. Even though I was dating Rihanna at the time, it was obvious Scarlett was struggling with her own heartbreak and might have seen me as a potential rebound. She never said anything outright, but the signs were there—prolonged glances, accidental touches that lingered just a second too long. Not to mention all the kissing scenes that she enjoyed far too much.

I did too, but at least I was sensible enough about hiding that part.

She may as well have thrown herself at me, but I hadn't taken advantage. I'd let her down gently, and to her credit, she had backed off without resentment. She was smart enough to understand.

When she didn't say anything more, I picked up the conversation.

"If we were to date," I began carefully, "we'd be setting ourselves up for the same kind of strain that ended things with Rihanna. You live in L.A. I'm based in London. Long-distance across continents? It's doomed to fail from the beginning."

Scarlett considered that for a beat, then asked, "After Harry Potter, would you stay in London full-time?"

I hesitated. The idea of permanence still felt foreign to me.

"I haven't really thought about that," I admitted. "I've bought a castle outside the city, and I had plans to start a small self-sustainable town around it in the future. I like to call it home, but I travel so much for work that most of my time is spent elsewhere. Maybe I'll settle there someday. But right now, I want to keep my options open."

"Same as me, then," she replied with a small smile. "So… where do you go from here?"

I took a deep breath in before saying, "I'll be in L.A. for the next couple of months. They haven't announced it yet, but I'll star in James Cameron's new project. After L.A., I'll fly to New Zealand for the main leg of the shoot."

Her brows lifted slightly at that, but she recovered quickly.

"That's perfect, actually, I'm filming here too. So… why don't we give it a shot? Nothing permanent. Just try it while we're both here. When you leave, we can talk about it again. Re-evaluate. Figure out if it's worth continuing and what the logistics would look like."

It sounded practical. But that wasn't what scared me.

"What if I fuck it up?" I asked, my voice rough with honesty. "I'm not good for you, Scar. I've been spiraling this past year. I've been reckless and self-destructive. I've slept with more women than makes sense, hoping it would fill something I couldn't name. I'm taking up roles so intense that they have left me spent emotionally and physically. I don't even know who I am anymore. Everyone sees this polished version of me: the superstar, but they don't know the person underneath. Hell, I don't even know him."

I let out a shaky breath.

"People worship me like I'm something more than human, and after a while, you start to believe them. You stop doing regular things, you lose your grip on reality, on who you were before all this... and you just let it slip away."

Before I could say more, Scarlett moved closer and kissed me.

It wasn't tentative.

Her lips pressed against mine with purpose, cutting through the fog in my head. I barely had time to process it before she pushed me gently back onto the mattress and climbed over me, straddling my waist, her breath warm against my skin.

Slowly, she pulled away from the kiss, her hands still resting on my bare chest as she remained perched atop me. There was a steady, unflinching fire in her eyes now.

"You are Troy Armitage," she said, her voice low but resolute. "You're the guy who sees people—really sees them. Even the temporary crew members that most stars wouldn't remember five minutes later. You're the guy who pays out of pocket every December to buy Christmas gifts for everyone who worked with you that year. From janitors to co-stars. That's not something most people would even think to do, let alone actually follow through on."

She took a breath, as if steadying herself.

"You were the only person on set who asked if I was okay after my breakup. The only one who cared. You're the only guy I've ever been with who remembers that I get cold feet at night… and always keeps a pair of socks nearby just in case. That's not something a bad person would do."

Her gaze flicked to the bedside table beside her. A pair of socks sat folded neatly where I had placed them earlier, without a second thought. She looked back at me.

"I don't believe for a second that you're not good," she said, her hands now cupping my face. "And I'm not the only one who sees it. That's why all those girls throw themselves at you. Because they'd be fools not to."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off with another fierce but warm kiss.

"I'm not finished," she murmured, pulling back only slightly.

A few seconds passed. Her eyes didn't waver. Then she said something I didn't expect.

"I love you, Troy."

The words hung in the air, soft but unshakable.

"I love who you are, not the public image, not the celebrity. You. The man underneath all that. So if you 'fuck it up' tomorrow, we'll work on it together. We'll get through it."

Her voice remained calm, but her grip on my shoulders tightened slightly.

"As for living in different cities… there's only one real solution. I'll take fewer roles. I'll carve out time to be with you. Because that's what you do for people you love—you find a way. I'm not asking you to say anything back right now, or even feel the same. That would be selfish, dumping all this on you out of nowhere. I just needed you to know."

With that, Scarlett quietly climbed off me and curled up beside me beneath the covers. She didn't say another word. She didn't have to.

I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, instinctively. Her body molded against mine like it belonged there.

It was a lot to absorb all at once. Too much, maybe. Part of me wanted to shelve it, give it a few days before even thinking of a response. But deep down, I knew I couldn't stay silent forever.

Even if she said she didn't expect an answer tonight, she was waiting for one. I knew it.

"I don't believe you," I said, breaking the silence after a long stretch of thought.

Scarlett blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"I think you're confused about what you're feeling," I clarified gently. "You just went through something traumatic, and now you feel like you owe me something in return."

"That's not—" she began, but I held up a hand.

"Shh. My turn now."

She pressed her lips into a thin line and gave me space.

"I know you care about me, Scarlett. And I care about you, too. But there's a big difference between love and care. Just because I happened to be there tonight doesn't mean you need to repay me with… this. With us. If that's how we start, it's only going to crash later."

She went quiet, processing. The vulnerability in her eyes was still there, but beneath it, something stronger flickered.

"I was jealous of Rihanna," she admitted, surprising me. "You two had such insane chemistry when you were together. Everyone saw it. When you invited me to your island back then, I accepted because I wanted to confess my feelings for you, but… when I started laying out the framework, you pulled away. That made me think that I was less than her in some way. And that hurt."

"So no," she went on, voice firming. "It's not just after tonight. I have loved you for a while."

"By the way, I broke up with Rihanna," I told her. "I don't want to go into details of what happened there, but I just wanted you to know that there are no lingering feelings on my end."

"I don't care about her now," she said, cutting me off this time. "All I care about is what you want. Us. Right now." She pointed between us. "Do you want to give this a shot? Or do you need time to think?"

The second option tempted me. It was safe, smart, and rational. But rationality hadn't done much for me lately. And the truth was, I didn't want time to think.

As much as I wanted to deny it, I couldn't. I wanted this. I wanted to have someone to love. But most importantly, I wanted her.

"Okay," I said. "Let's do this."

Scarlett's whole face lit up, the shadow from earlier melting into something bright and honest.

"You mean it?"

I smiled. "Yeah. We'll try it your way. Two months. Let's see where it goes after that."

That was all she needed. She threw herself into my arms again, her lips on mine, her body warm and eager against me. I held her tighter this time, feeling something loosen in my chest—something I didn't realize I'd been holding onto.

When she finally pulled away, flushed and glowing, I chuckled softly. "The media's going to think we're dating anyway."

She tilted her head. "Because you came to my place in the middle of the night?"

"And saved you like a total superhero out of a comic book," I added. "That'll definitely get back to the detectives on the case, eventually, the press."

Scarlett groaned. "Ugh. I hate that. Why should anyone have to know about what goes on in our personal lives?"

"That's the life we've chosen," I admitted. "But let's promise one thing: we'll keep this as private as we can. I don't want to be 'Troy and Scarlett' in the tabloids. Not like that."

"You took those words right out of my mouth."

With everything said, we finally settled into bed again. This time, she melted into me with a sense of ease she hadn't allowed herself all night. Her head rested on my chest, rising and falling with every steady breath. The rhythm of it lulled me into a rare, peaceful stillness.

As I closed my eyes, all I could do was hope that tomorrow's headlines would be kinder to her than they usually were to women in our world.

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AN: Visit my personal website to read ahead, or check out my second Hollywood story set in the 80s.

Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com