The Winner is…
Actor Chris Evans meets with an OFC/Reader who wins a radio contest for a date with him, but plans change because of winter weather
Word Count: 1742
A special thanks to @ek823, who inspired this with her #FantasyFriday submission on @tsfrce
You still can’t believe this is happening! You’ve enjoyed a great day sightseeing in Boston, despite the cold and snow. You’re dressed for dinner, hoping you look as good as you feel. It’s hard to look attractive and be warm when it’s only 25 degrees outside. I probably look like the StayPuff Marshmallow Man in this sweater and scarf, you think to yourself. While the people in charge are talking things over, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the windows of the restaurant and realize you look pretty amazing. Your leggings and boots accentuate your long legs, and your navy sweater hugs your curves just right. The floral scarf at your neck just provides added warmth from the chill that enters the restaurant each time the doors open for more revelers to come in from the cold.
You continue to scan the restaurant, running your fingers through your hair out of nervous habit. That’s when you see him at the bar, watching you. You turn quickly, hoping he didn’t get a good look at you. This whole thing has been a little ridiculous already, and this would just add to the embarrassment. You still can’t believe your best friend entered you into a radio show contest for Valentine’s Day to win a date with actor Chris Evans! And you WON! The letter she wrote revealed all the details of your secret crush on your favorite superhero and now you are five minutes away from sitting down to dinner with him. You really hope he didn’t have anything to do with choosing the winners or reading the winning submission. You shake your head at the thought, and start to blush.
The group has finished their talk, and have turned their attention back to you. Plans for the day had changed because of the snow storm. You were supposed to meet Chris for lunch and do some sightseeing with him. You are almost thankful the plans have just been altered to a dinner. You couldn’t imagine how to fill all the time with small talk, so a few short hours for dinner is almost a relief. You nod as the publicity people remind you of the rules again, yes, a few photos will be snapped, no, don’t ask for selfies. No, don’t ask about Civil War. No, don’t get to personal. Keep your hands to yourself.
Kinda sounds like every other crappy date you’ve been on lately; you smile to yourself. Well, all accept for the last part. All the guys you’ve meet recently don’t even want to bother with the talk, they just want…. STAAHHHP. You are minutes away from meeting Chris, think positive thoughts. Take a deep breath.
You look again to the bar, and notice he’s gone. He had looked so good, standing there, in a gray sweater with a red plaid shirt peeking out at the collar. God! If the man only knew how you felt about him wearing sweaters. Your mind races to think back to the winning letter your friend wrote, and hope to hell that wasn’t in there! And his jeans, hung low on his hips just makes your mind start to fantasize. You shake your head again to clear your thoughts as the group begins to move forward.
The waiter leads you to a table. His beauty takes your breath away and there is no other way to describe him. You know he’s in the middle of reshoots, and he has a definite Cap look about him, and you feel your knees grow week as he takes your hand to say hello. He cups his other hand over the top of yours and you realize he is larger than life. Your eyes are drawn to his fingers. You are vaguely aware of mumbling a hello, and repeating your name for him as some publicity photos are taken. He squeezes your hand and winks at you, stepping to your side for a few more publicity photos, wrapping his arm around your waist. He says something, and you look up to him and laugh, just as the camera clicks. You smile when you think about how “prom photo” that must look, but know that’s the photo you’ll print out to keep on your bedside table.
He ushers you into the booth, and sits across from you. Your mind quickly flashes to your favorite scene from the Nanny Diaries and you begin to feel giddy and caught up in this crazy contest win. A date with Chris Evans? Unbelievable, but actually happening, just days before Valentine’s Day. Even if this is the worst date ever, you realize you are now ruined for all other men. And you envy all other women who have sat in a booth across from him before you, but realize now, you will be envied someday as well.
He rolls his eyes when the publicity people ask you both to look over the menus for more photos, and he quietly thanks the waiter for bringing waters. “I’m starving guys, I traveled all day to get here in the snow, and I want to eat. Three more pictures and then go!” His team laughs at him, and they direct the photographer to finish up. His people talk to him a few extra moments and he drops the menu to the table when they leave.
“Ugh! I thought they’d never leave!” He laughs, smiling brightly at you. “I’m really sorry, can you tell me your name again?”
You laugh and joke that’s it’s a tough one to remember. “I have no idea what my parents were thinking,” you shake your head.
“No, it’s really unique. Different. I like it.”
In your crazy mind you hear him say ‘I wike it’ and you can feel the smile so big on your face your cheeks might break. You hide behind the menu, and ask him what he plans to order.
You peer over the menu at him, and he grins back at you. “Honestly, this is the last place in town I would have picked to eat. Do you mind if I check on another place for us? Something less crowded…” he says as he waves across the room at someone, nodding his head up in acknowledgement.
“It’s your city; show me the best places,” you respond. You blush when you hear an echo of his voice saying “the best place” in your mind, in reference to the bedroom. You feel your temperature rise at the idea of Chris and a bedroom. Get it together, girl! Damn being a fangirl and knowing all these weird things! While he shifts in his seat to pull out his phone, your mind races. Maybe you should have paid better attention to the things people were telling you. You really don’t know if you’re supposed to get in a car with him, or what the plan was for getting you back to your hotel later. Chris smiles at you warmly as his fingers dance over the screen of his phone.
You watch as he leans forward and begins to toy with the packets of sugar on the table while he waits for the person on the other end of the line. “Hey,” he says, his voice deep, reminding you of Steve Rogers. “I just wondered what was on the menu tonight? Sounds good. Can I make a reservation for two at seven?” He chuckles and shakes his head before hanging up the phone.
“How do you feel about the best Italian food in Boston?” he asks, cocking his eyebrow at you.
“Well, not everyone can make gravy as good as my Nonna, but I’m willing to try,” you tease him.
“You call your grandma ‘Nonna?!’ You’re Italian?” The smile on his face grows as you nod your head yes. “Well, we’ll just have to see, cuz the place we’re going has the best gravy I’ve ever had.”
“You’ve never tried my Nonna’s recipe!” You blush at the implications, that someday you could make dinner for him, and your heart flip flops. You’ve been trying to keep your crush at bay, and those thoughts won’t help.
He motions for the waiter to come over and you get lost in your thoughts while he talks to the man. You like the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles. You’ve adored this man since you first saw him in Cellular, over ten years ago. The years have been good to him, and he just seems to keep getting better looking. It’s not fair. You focus back in when you hear him ask for the valet to start his car and have it warm.
Chris relaxes you back into small talk, asking you about the Italian side of your family. You organize the table setting as it was before he had started fidgeting and moving everything around. He watches you quietly as you talk and fuss, and when he stands, he motions to take your hand. You breathe deeply as his warm hand touches yours again, and he pulls you up from the booth. He lets your hand go, and leaves a large tip on the table, even though you didn’t eat anything, and neither of you drank the waters on the table. Good man, you think to yourself, and allow him to guide you gently through the restaurant with his hand resting gently on your lower back. You try desperately to keep your breathing steady as his touch sends tingles through your bones. You won’t need to worry about bundling up for the cold because his hand warmed you all the way through.
The girl at the coat check counter glares at you when she sees who you are with, and he chats with her by name, although somewhat awkwardly. You glance at him, and he shrugs his shoulders. You giggle at his expression that says ‘What can I say?’ and he laughs with you. You both bundle up before heading out, and your lungs sting from the cold winter air. The sharp intake of air halts you for a moment, and he stops, “Not so cold back home, I take it? Where are you from?”
Part 2 “Boston’s Best”
NOTE: @ek823Just accept this as a thank you for being my first “fan,” the first random reader who reached out to let me know you loved my character, Emery Thomas, in Georgia on My Mind, as much as I do!
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