A Night Out- Part 12
Actor Chris Evans calls his girlfriend, Emery Thomas, at the last minute and asks her to make their first public appearance together. But something seems to be off… Part 12 of the “Georgia On My Mind” series.
Warnings: None, Fluff
Word Count 3650
Previous Chapter “Lazy Sunday” Part 11
Emery finishes setting the table, and looks at her watch. If Chris gets back from the set within the next 15 minutes, she won’t have to eat alone. She laughs wryly to herself. She signed up for the online dating site, so she wouldn’t have to eat alone any more… The original goal was to meet some nice local guy, have a few dates, maybe fall in love, eventually have some really good sex…
Yet, here she is, preparing to eat dinner alone. Again. Only this time, she has a boyfriend. A famous one, the actor Chris Evans. Who actually lives in Boston, which is not local by any means…
The noise in the back of her brain continues the nagging that has been building all week that this isn’t going to work. As much as she’s always loved Steve Rogers, a real world relationship with Chris Evans just doesn’t seem like it’s possible. He’s almost done filming here, and goes to Atlanta soon to get ready to film there, and they haven’t even talked about what the future holds. Every time it comes up, Chris seems to brush it aside and changes the subject.
She worries to herself that maybe this is really just a fling for him, a way to keep busy in his free time from the set. And her heart breaks, because he is so fucking perfect for her, and it doesn’t feel like a simple fling. How could she have been so stupid to have actually fallen in love with him, just because she’d crushed on his characters for years, she berates herself.
West whines in the corner, waiting for Emery to add food to her dog dish. Instead, Emery sinks to the floor by the stove, and the loving Dalmatian comes over to snuggle her sad owner. West climbs in Emery’s lap, believing she is still a little puppy and puts her giant paw up on Emery’s shoulder, as if to console her. “That’s right, West- We love who we love… Sucks. Stupid- ass movie quote,” she says, as tears silently run down her face.
She startles when the phone rings. She reaches up on the cabinet and smiles sadly when she sees it’s Chris calling. For a brief second, she considers letting it go to voicemail, but then realizes that’s petty and childish. He didn’t DO anything wrong, and her time with him is nearing its end. She might as well collect all the memories she can. Before he leaves, and she decides to get cats and live a long lonely life, telling stories about the one time she dated “that actor.” Which of course, no one would believe her, she thinks sarcastically to herself, because she hasn’t told anyone but her family, and a few students at school who know about her relationship with Chris.
She wipes away the tears before answering the phone, trying to mask the sadness in her voice, “Hey, sweetheart? What’s up?”
Chris pauses for a moment, thinking he hears something different in her voice, but then speaks, “Listen, I know this is last minute, and I’m sure you’re about to take the dinner out of the oven, but several people are going out tonight…”
“That’s fine, go if you need to,” she interrupts, before he can even finish, rolling her eyes in frustration.
“No, no. I want you to go. All of our dates have been dinner at your house, pizza at my hotel, late night grocery shopping, and a football game… Which had a nice, nice ending, by the way, so I’m not complaining. But shouldn’t one of the perks of dating a famous actor be that he calls you at the last minute, and tells you to dress up, cuz he’s taking you out to dinner?”
She blushes at the quick memory of the football game, but leans her head back against the kitchen counter in frustration. She mimics hitting her head against it, glad that Chris can’t see her. “I have nothing to wear, and it’s late, and the food is almost done.”
“You have that black dress. I’ve seen it in the closet; the one you said you wear to chaperone prom every year? It’s perfect. Put it on, wipe the tears from your face- don’t deny it, I can hear in your voice that you have been crying, and we’ll talk about that later- fix your make up, and I’ll swing by in about 30 minutes.”
“Asshole. Are you crazy? I can’t be ready in 30 minutes.”
Chris laughs. Of all the nicknames she calls him, “asshole” is really the one he finds most endearing from her. That must make him as warped as she is… “You can do it. It’s a math problem. Figure it out. How much time do I have for x, y and z to be ready in 30 minutes?”
“I don’t like you right now,” and there is a hint of truthfulness in her voice.
Chris picks up on her tone, and answers, “Well, we can talk about that later too. I have to get dressed too; this “brainy professor” look isn’t what I have in mind for tonight.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I kinda like it…” Emery smiles to herself. She’s only been on set once, but she has had fun seeing the few photos that have appeared from time to time online. She kinda likes the “hot uncle” vibe he gives off as he prepares for this movie role. And the tan? Hell. Yes. The tan. The rumpled plaid shirt. Playing on the beach with McKenna. Damn.
The buzz of the oven pulls her from her reverie. “Fine. The fajitas are ready. I’ll just put them in the fridge for tomorrow and go get dressed.”
“Fajitas? I love your fajitas… Can you pack a lunch for me to take to set tomorrow?” Chris laughs at how ridiculous this sounds. But it makes her laugh too, so he feels like he has a win over whatever has her dragged down this evening.
“Aww, would my man like a sack lunch tomorrow? The Hulk lunch box or Iron Man?”
“Thirty minutes,” he laughs again and hangs up.
When Chris arrives at the house, right on time, he is surprised the door is locked. What the hell? Emery has never locked her door when she knows he’s coming over. He begins to sense her tears earlier may have been caused by anger, and he starts to wonder what the hell he did wrong.
Then he thinks back on how long he’s known her… Her period, maybe? Shit. He knows better than to ask that. She’d fucking punch him for even insinuating her moodiness could be attributed to her cycle. Oh, he starts to think this night could go horribly wrong. He walks to the porch, and rings the doorbell.
Moments later, the door swings open and he is met with the most beautiful vision he has ever seen. Emery takes his breath away. She stands outlined in the light, wearing a form fitting black dress, accentuating all the right details. The sight of her in black heels stops his heart. Chris realizes he’s only seen in her in work and weekend clothes, never dressed up before. Okay, so the one time in cosplay as a USO showgirl, but that doesn’t count, because he didn’t really know her then… Her tanned legs, although short, are strong and muscular. The heels create a shift to her posture, tilting her perfect ass up just a little higher. In that moment, he knows he can’t wait to show her off at the Oscars. She’ll look so amazing by his side on the red carpet.
She stands quietly, as his eyes wash over her, and she watches the hunger build in his eyes. “Hey, handsome,” she whispers. She grabs his tie, and pulls him towards her for a kiss. He steps into the entryway, and she pushes the door closed behind him; Chris dips his head as their lips find one another. The kiss starts as a ‘hello’ but builds. Electricity sparks through her body, and she senses he feels it to; she pulls that luscious lower lip of his in between her teeth and gently bites down, slightly tugging.
His hands roam over the tight dress, sending shivers down her spine; stopping to cup her ass, as he pulls her closer to him. Emery can feel Chris growing hard as he pushes against her. She tilts her head back so he can nibble along her jaw and neck; also freeing up her mouth to say, “Don’t we have dinner plans?”
“Fuck that. Dessert first,” he growls in her ear. She laughs and playfully pushes against his rock hard chest. Damn, that man can fill out a suit. Angry or not, she can still appreciate this moment. Chris still holds her tightly around the waist, as he pulls back from her at the waist only. Her hands roam across his broad shoulders, and reach under the lapel of his suit coat to feel his abs underneath. Emery giggles when she sees him shiver as well. She adjusts his tie back into place, and takes a step back, straining against his grip.
“You never let me have desert first,” he playfully whines.
“I did not drop everything for you, Mr. Evans, and change my plans, and get all dolled up, so you can have your way with me before you take me out. And you haven’t even said how nice I look! Shame on you,” Emery lays on her southern accent a bit thicker than usual and Chris laughs deeply, his eyes crinkling at the woman he loves.
“You look amazing tonight; I thought my lips and hands said it all?”
“Well, now, do I have to write the script for you too? No. I want words. Words are good. Words are what set us apart from the animals.”
She is prepared, she knows this will do the trick, and in her hidden anger, it’s just what she needs. Chris throws his head back and laughs so loudly, it wakes West from her slumber on the couch. She chuckles along with him, and reaches for her purse and shawl, locking the front door behind her when they leave.
Chris pulls up to the restaurant downtown, and easily finds a place to park. Emery waits for Chris to come to her side of the SUV and open the door for her. She admires his form as he crosses gracefully in front of the vehicle. Having been raised knowing how to dance and perform certainly did him well, she smiles to herself. She’ll have to thank Lisa for that one day, if their relationship lasts. When Chris reaches the door, he waves off a few fans who have gathered on the sidewalk, “No pictures tonight, girls,” and looks to see if there are any others lurking nearby with cameras ready to go. He watches as the group of fans continues their path down the sidewalk, before opening the door for the lovely Miss Emery Thomas. He reaches in to take her hand, and quietly asks, “Are you ready?
“Ready as I’ll ever be, but I think I can handle the press here in town. If Trina shows up with a camera, I’ll rip it out of her damn hands,” Emery challenges.
“Oh, such a tough lady you are. I bet you would,” Chris smiles.
Emery says a silent prayer, thinking please don’t let me fall, let me exit gracefully. She takes a deep breath. Chris bites back the smile from his lips. He can read this thought on her face as plain as day. That’s something he’s been able to do with her since day one, so it’s bugging him a little that he doesn’t know what has her bothered this evening. He steps back slightly, as she exits the car, silently cheering for her when it is so gracefully executed, almost like in a movie itself. He still holds her hand, as he leans back to once again admire her from head to toe. He leans in to her as he closes the door, and growls lowly, “I can’t wait to get you out of that dress later.”
Emery senses people are starting to watch them, so she keeps a straight face, but growls back, “Not if I get you out of your suit first.”
Chris offers her his arm, and Emery puts her arm through his. He pauses for a moment and smiles down at her with pride. As much as he hates the press, he almost wishes someone would catch them together now. He is so proud of this woman who has stolen his heart; he wants the world to know. And that’s something he hasn’t felt in in a hell of a long time. She grins up at him, winks, and whispers, “Move it, Evans, before we cause a scene, and I lose my nerve. It would not be pretty if we both had an anxiety attack here on this sidewalk.” She gives him a gentle shove, and together they walk into the restaurant.
“Chris, no one is going to believe you met her online. Is that really the story you are going with, man?” Marc Webb, the director for Chris’s film, asked.
Chris nods his head, “Man, it’s the truth; what else am I supposed to say? “
“Can you imagine the marketing that company could get?! Call your people, set up an advertising deal. Fangirls all over America will be signing up for online dating, hoping to catch their own superhero,” Chris’s friend laughs at him.
“All the Marvel ones are taken; well, except for Stan and Renner, and I think they both do okay on their own,” replies Chris, trying desperately not to think about that damn photo of Sebastian and Emery from Salt Lake City Comic Con. Yea, that didn’t work, he thinks wryly to himself.
Marc takes another drink from his glass, and watches his friend, before setting it back down on the table, “So why the hell is she mad at you?”
“Ah. So it’s not just me; you noticed that too?” Chris also takes a drink, and shakes his head in wonder.
“Sucks to be you, man,” Marc says, and nods to the ladies returning to the table from the restroom. Chris also watches the group, admiring Emery, with her fiery red hair, in that tight black dress. The dress itself creates a 1940s look, he hadn’t noticed that before, and he smiles warmly. Steve Rogers. Thank God for that character or he may not have landed such a perfect woman. He realizes someone has stopped Emery on her way back across the room, and she motions for the other ladies to go on to the table.
The mood on Chris’s face changes. He watches a good looking man embrace Emery in a hug and continue to run his hands up and down her arms, just a second longer than necessary. Across the noise of the room, he can hear Emery’s laughter at whatever the man has said to her, and she pushes against the man’s shoulder. Chris starts to rise from the table, but Marc holds him back. “This is her town; her people. You don’t know who that is; leave it.”
Chris settles back down; with a scowl on his face, and takes another drink.
Emery can see across the room that Marc helped to divert a scene, and nods to him gratefully. The last thing that man needs would be for his main star to create a scene in a restaurant over her. She can handle herself, and easily told her ex to get lost. She continues to hold her head high, confident in knowing she looks good, realizing she knows half the restaurant, and sure there will be a buzz around town tomorrow that she was at dinner with members of the film crew.
And here comes the gossip queen herself, Emery thinks sourly. “Well, Miss Trina, look at you! You look lovely tonight! What are you doing here?” she asks the “local gossip columnist” laying on the accent a bit thick. How one could spread gossip and ruin lives in high school, and then grow up to get paid for it, is just sickening, Emery thinks to herself. The worst part is, now that her little hometown is often used for filming, Trina Martinez is starting to make a national name for herself as someone being in the know when it comes to all things gossip. Shit. Shit. Shit. Think fast, Emery commands to herself.
“Well, Miss Thomas! I could ask you the same thing! You’re dining with the stars from the film set! Tell me all about it,” Trina also drawls, putting her arm around Emery’s shoulder in a conspiratorial way.
“Well, Trina, you know everyone in town involved on set has signed a nondisclosure form, so you know I can’t tell you anything… All I can say is, well, I AM a math teacher, and there is a young child on set, still needing to receive education. But you didn’t hear that from me. Don’t put my name in anything you write, you wicked girl!” Emery smiles at Trina as if they are old friends.
Not likely, evil bitch, Emery thinks.
Trina returns Emery’s sickening sweet smile. “So you have no idea who Mr. Evans has been spotted around town with late at night?” Emery shakes her head no. “So why did he drive you here tonight?”
“Oh, well, we’ve met once or twice, he just adores the young actress, but I really don’t know him that well. My car wouldn’t start, and when I called the director, he said he’d take care of it, and Mr. Evans showed up at my door. Really, Trina, there isn’t any more to it than that. You know me, I’m for any good gossip, but really, I don’t have any for you.” Emery acknowledges Marc waving her back to the table, and excuses herself from Trina’s grip.
She walks quickly to the table and smiles when she sees Chris rise from his chair as she approaches the table, but cuts him a look that says “Don’t.” Chris takes the hint, and simply ushers her back into her seat and pushes it back to the table.
“That’s Trina, the local gossip columnist. I may have implied that I hardly know Mr. Evans, he simply picked me up at Marc’s request because I was having car trouble, and that I may or may not be tutoring McKenna on set.”
The whole table laughed at her quick thinking.
The group stands on the sidewalk, and chats just a little longer. Some photographers descend on the group, but seem local, nothing like if the group had been in LA. Emery hopes she was standing just far enough from Chris that maybe people won’t realize they were together. He was right earlier, all of their dates had been “home dates” or late night runs to the grocery store, or good lord, hanging out with her students at tutoring. She wasn’t ready to share what she had with Chris to the world yet. Tonight she wasn’t even feeling sure if there would be something to share within the next week… She was a little fearful Trina knows more than she let on and hopes to hell no one decides to follow their car.
She motions to Chris that she is ready to leave; he nods and begins to say his goodbyes. Emery and Octavia make plans to go antique shopping in the historic part of town over the weekend; Marc and Chris finish their discussion and she heads to the car. She is fully aware Chris is waiting for her to move first, simply so he has an excuse to watch her and enjoy the view. So she walks slowly, with as much grace as she can muster. God, she hates high heels, but she knows the added height displays her ass just right, and she grins into the darkness.
She feels Chris get closer to her, actually smelling his wonderful scent first, “Like what you see Evans?”
“Oh, hell, yes, ma’am,” he chuckles softly, and hands the keys of the SUV to her. “I think you better drive.” She shakes her head in agreement; following his lead as he gently puts his hand on her lower back to guide her around the front of the car, and helps her into the car.
After they are both buckled in, and she has readjusted everything to adjust for their height differences- “Shut up, Evans-“ she pulls out into the traffic, and carefully heads for home. She decides she doesn’t trust Trina, and makes a few additional turns along the way.
She notices in the passing light of the street lamps that Chris has closed his eyes and rested his head back on the seat. Oh, now, hell. How is she supposed to drive, when all she wants to do is stare at his long black lashes against his tan skin? No man should have eyelashes like that; it just isn’t fair. For a fleeting second she wonders if they had a daughter if her lashes would look like that. So distracted by this thought, she nearly runs a red light. She takes a deep breath, and waits for the light to change.
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