IMAGINES: Celebrity Encounters Starring You by Anna Todd, Blair Holden, Rachel Aukes, Ashley Winters, Leigh Ansell, Doeneseya Bates, Scarlett Drake, A. Evansley, Kevin Fanning, Ariana Godoy, Debra Goelz, Bella Higgin, Kora Huddles, Annelie Lange, E. Latimer, Bryony Leah, Jordan Lynde, Laiza Millan, Peyton Novak, C.M. Peters, Michelle Jo, Dmitri Ragano, Elizabeth A. Seibert, Rebecca Sky, Karim Soliman, Kate J. Squires, Steffanie Tan, Kassandra Tate, Katarina E. Tonks, Marcella Uva, Tango Walker, Bel Watson, Jen Wilde
Authors: Anna Todd, Blair Holden, Rachel Aukes, Ashley Winters, Leigh Ansell, Doeneseya Bates, Scarlett Drake, A. Evansley, Kevin Fanning, Ariana Godoy, Debra Goelz, Bella Higgin, Kora Huddles, Annelie Lange, E. Latimer, Bryony Leah, Jordan Lynde, Laiza Millan, Peyton Novak, C.M. Peters, Michelle Jo, Dmitri Ragano, Elizabeth A. Seibert, Rebecca Sky, Karim Soliman, Kate J. Squires, Steffanie Tan, Kassandra Tate, Katarina E. Tonks, Marcella Uva, Tango Walker, Bel Watson, Jen Wilde
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barely speak to them. Your mom’s new husband is nice; your mom calls every once in a while, when she can break away from catering to him and his colleagues. You haven’t spoken to your father in years. You don’t have any siblings, and Los Angeles hasn’t blessed you with any friendships yet.
“I . . .” You continue to search for something to say. “I . . . well, what makes me happy is . . .” You struggle to come up with one single thing. How is that possible? You’ve never been the cheeriest of people, but it’s not possible that you don’t have a single thing in your life that makes you happy.
Your difficulty with this makes you question nearly everything in your life.
When Daniel looks at you, you feel the heat in your cheeks. You’re embarrassed, even though you don’t really have a reason to be.
He seems to notice your discomfort and changes the subject. “What’s your favorite form of art? Do you prefer painting, sketching, music, acting, writing?”
He’s kind.
“Drawing. I like to write too, though I’m not good at it. I love music, but I don’t have any talent to create it. I like to sketch, though not bowls of fruit. I like landscapes the most, I guess I’d say. I use markers as my medium mostly. It’s odd, I know. Most people hate to use markers because they bleed, they leave pools of ink, but I prefer them to pencils. The colors are brighter, more alive, you know?”
You take a breath at the end of your lengthy babbling, and his eyes are lighter, focused on you.
“That was a long answer,” you breathe. “It counts as two.”
“No, no. It surely doesn’t.” He laughs and turns back to the easel. “What’s your favorite place you’ve ever visited?”
You haven’t done much traveling in your life. In fact, you never left the state you were born in until a few months ago when you came to California. “I haven’t traveled much,” you say, looking down at the toes of your dirty boots.
“Much, or at all?” Daniel asks.
“At all. My mom was supposed to take me to Disney World when I was ten, and when I was sixteen . . . my best friend and I tried to run away from the shitty town we’re from, but her car broke down, so we didn’t make it out.” You’re not sure why you’re telling him such specifics about your life, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He soaks them in, his hands still moving, creating.
“Seems like you made it out just fine.”
You can’t see his face, but you sense that he’s smiling.
“What about you—where’s your favorite place that you’ve been?”
He ponders your question for a few seconds. “Sweden. It’s cold as fuck, but I love it there. If it were warmer and I could get work there, I would never leave the place.”
You don’t know much about Sweden, and you realize that you probably don’t know much about anything compared to this foreign, well-traveled, insanely attractive, well-spoken man. Instead of comparing your inadequacies to his achievements, you change the subject.
“What do you do for work?” you ask. You’re curious about this. He’s clearly talented in the arts, and he has the face and tall, lean body of a model.
Daniel clears his throat and doesn’t turn around to answer.His pencil shades in the crease of your bottom lip, and you find your fingers touching your lips.
“Different things. I’m sort of in between jobs right now,” he says. This makes you feel slightly better about not even owning a passport.
A cell phone begins to ring, and he reaches his hand into his pocket. He stares at the screen and swipes his long index finger across it. He slides his iPhone back into the pocket of his black jeans and picks the pencil back up. A few students stare at him pointedly, and he quietly apologizes for the interruption.
You look around the room, noticing that everyone’s fruit bowls are coming together nicely. You still haven’t drawn a single line, and you don’t really have the urge to do
“I . . .” You continue to search for something to say. “I . . . well, what makes me happy is . . .” You struggle to come up with one single thing. How is that possible? You’ve never been the cheeriest of people, but it’s not possible that you don’t have a single thing in your life that makes you happy.
Your difficulty with this makes you question nearly everything in your life.
When Daniel looks at you, you feel the heat in your cheeks. You’re embarrassed, even though you don’t really have a reason to be.
He seems to notice your discomfort and changes the subject. “What’s your favorite form of art? Do you prefer painting, sketching, music, acting, writing?”
He’s kind.
“Drawing. I like to write too, though I’m not good at it. I love music, but I don’t have any talent to create it. I like to sketch, though not bowls of fruit. I like landscapes the most, I guess I’d say. I use markers as my medium mostly. It’s odd, I know. Most people hate to use markers because they bleed, they leave pools of ink, but I prefer them to pencils. The colors are brighter, more alive, you know?”
You take a breath at the end of your lengthy babbling, and his eyes are lighter, focused on you.
“That was a long answer,” you breathe. “It counts as two.”
“No, no. It surely doesn’t.” He laughs and turns back to the easel. “What’s your favorite place you’ve ever visited?”
You haven’t done much traveling in your life. In fact, you never left the state you were born in until a few months ago when you came to California. “I haven’t traveled much,” you say, looking down at the toes of your dirty boots.
“Much, or at all?” Daniel asks.
“At all. My mom was supposed to take me to Disney World when I was ten, and when I was sixteen . . . my best friend and I tried to run away from the shitty town we’re from, but her car broke down, so we didn’t make it out.” You’re not sure why you’re telling him such specifics about your life, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He soaks them in, his hands still moving, creating.
“Seems like you made it out just fine.”
You can’t see his face, but you sense that he’s smiling.
“What about you—where’s your favorite place that you’ve been?”
He ponders your question for a few seconds. “Sweden. It’s cold as fuck, but I love it there. If it were warmer and I could get work there, I would never leave the place.”
You don’t know much about Sweden, and you realize that you probably don’t know much about anything compared to this foreign, well-traveled, insanely attractive, well-spoken man. Instead of comparing your inadequacies to his achievements, you change the subject.
“What do you do for work?” you ask. You’re curious about this. He’s clearly talented in the arts, and he has the face and tall, lean body of a model.
Daniel clears his throat and doesn’t turn around to answer.His pencil shades in the crease of your bottom lip, and you find your fingers touching your lips.
“Different things. I’m sort of in between jobs right now,” he says. This makes you feel slightly better about not even owning a passport.
A cell phone begins to ring, and he reaches his hand into his pocket. He stares at the screen and swipes his long index finger across it. He slides his iPhone back into the pocket of his black jeans and picks the pencil back up. A few students stare at him pointedly, and he quietly apologizes for the interruption.
You look around the room, noticing that everyone’s fruit bowls are coming together nicely. You still haven’t drawn a single line, and you don’t really have the urge to do
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