Chapter Text
I take a deep intake of breath, frowning to the boy in front of me. He was frowning as bad in return, big brown eyed and pale.
I lean forward and over the sink to mess my brown hair onto place with my skinny long fingers.
“Ok. You can do this, Stiles. I’m counting you. What’s the worst thing that can happen, right?” I try to be optimistic about it, but by the look at myself - the self-doubt oozing from my eyes - the words just felt dry against my tongue.
I sigh.
“Just act cool, and do what you’ve done many times before. It’s going to be fine, I’m sure of it,” I make another effort to convince myself that all my fear and dread was nothing but imaginary. But then… Who am I to fool? I’m probably the most wretched liar on earth. Lying to myself and believing it would only prove that I’m the dumbest person as well.
I lick briefly across my lips and look at myself for a couple more seconds before I grab my shoulder bag and stroll out of the toilet, admiring the environment.
The Ty Warner Penthouse suite at Four Seasons Hotel is really something.
By the time I’ve located the foyer to the enormously modern suite, I find myself completely alone. It was like two female journalists waiting with me before I left. Did I spend that much time on the toilet?
I made a goal to the chair by the door, but went a detour on my way, looking at the decorations such as the paintings on the walls.
Absently, I wonder how he’s like.
Derek Hale…
I can’t believe I’m about to meet him in person. Sure I’ve read public records and articles through the years, but everyone knows media isn’t a reliable source when it comes to how and who the person really is.
Some people are pictured a lot better than they are. Other’s the complete opposite, which is pity. I don’t know who and how Derek Hale really is since the media has pictured him as an untouchable person - like some sort of Greek God on human soil…
He made a huge hit on his first movie at age 17. Since, he’s been homeschooled while making other movies, building his fame along with his knowledge. After he graduated at age 21, his fame literally exploded and so did the females as he finally went out on the public streets. However, Derek is like one of the most famous people alive in the 201st decade.
He’s an actor, part time model, author, and an artist… All the ladies are head on heels when it comes to this guy. Males even.
I was just about to take my seat when the assistant enters the room and escorts one of the journalists to the door.
I swallow a cube of ice down my throat as I straighten up my back and clear my throat.
She was blonde, tall, slender and professionally attired in a white dress that formed her body. It’s like she’s been picked out of the Victoria’s Secret model crew. I feel immediately underdressed. I’m wearing a pair of white jeans and a light blue shirt I bought yesterday at Ralph Lauren.
“Mr. Stilinski.” Mister?
I didn’t know it was this formal around here. If I knew, I would’ve definitely packed my black suit with me.
“Mr. Hale will see you now. Please do follow me,” she smiles politely before she walks past me and I follow her lead as if a dog on leash.
Her heels click against the tiled floor, and I can’t help it but to peek at her behind. Just for a slight second.
“You’ll have ten minutes,” she opens a door and nods, which I assume was some sort of gesture for me to enter. And doing so, I tilt my gaze up from the floor freeze by the sight of the tall man.
He’s standing in front of the fireplace; his back facing me and hand holding around his wrist.
I gulp and I walk slowly, but apparently one step was enough for him to turn around. I meet his hazel eyes, and he blinks as if surprised.
“Good afternoon,” his dark voice roams the room as he elegantly approaches one of the sleek cream-colored couches.
He’s even better live than in photos – even the photoshoped ones.
He’s dressed in a fine black suit, white shirt and black tie. He had a narrow jaw adorned by stubbles, prominent cheekbones, straight nose and hooded hazel eyes by strong dark brows with unruly black hair. I then realize I’m practically staring and look around the room instead.
I suppose this was the living room.
“Please, take a seat,” he gestures to the couch across the one he was standing in front of.
I do so what I’m told and approach him. And before I take my seat, he extents his hand to greet, and so I touch the untouchable man for the very first time.
“Good afternoon, I’m Stiles Stilinski from Total Films magazine. Thank you for taking time to this interview Mr. Hale.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he smiles; his eyes never seem to leave mine as we both sit down.
Can someone really look like this? I’m a male, but even I think he’s a little too attractive for a man to be.
As if in rush, I break the eye contact between us and delve into my bag for my notebook and digital recorder.
He shifts on the couch, placing one leg over his knee and leans back to the couch ridge, waiting patiently.
“Take all the time you need, Mr. Stilinski,” he chuckles. He sounds amused. Maybe he has noticed that I’m nervous? But is that even weird? Like, has he seen himself? I mean… Does he know who he is?
I keep searching for a pen, and scowl at myself. I only have ten minutes, probably eight now. And I’m wasting it to find a goddamn pen that isn’t in my bag.
I bite my lower lip and look up. He’s been watching me intently all this time; his hazel eyes changes into darker shades.
“Are you looking for something to write with?” he asks, as if he could read my thoughts. I let my lip go from the torture of my teeth and apologetically smile.
“Please.” I nod.
He smiles warmly as he obtains something inside his black blazer to later on pull out a black and golden pen. He leans over and hands it to me before he leans back to his former posture.
“Thank you.”
How can he be so calm? I on the other hand… I feel the blood rush through my veins, causing my body temperature to increase. I’m quite energetic though, but this is his affect on me.
Wait… His affect on me? I shake my head.
It must be the heat. The flames right beside me don’t really help me a lot.
I pull a breath and roll my shoulders to calm down. I then take the recorder and look at him.
Jeez. Is he even real? No flaws at all.
“Ehrm… Would you mind if I record this?”
He waves his hand to the coffee table between us; I assume it was some sort of a gesture for, “go ahead.”
I chew on my lip nervously as I place the recorder on glass table between us. I already just want this over with.
“I’m sorry for taking such a long time.”
“There’s no rush Mr. Stilinski.”
Yeah right… I have seven-six minutes to do this interview.
I open my notebook, scrolling past pages to my questions.
“Have you been offered any refreshments?”
I look up absently.
“Hm?”
You heard him perfectly fine, numskull.
“Oh… Uhm. No?”
“Have you not?” he sounds aghast. Kind of looked liked it too. “Hm... Can I offer you anything then?” He doesn’t sound pleased. He shifts on his seat to stand up, but I stutter, making him stop.
“No, no. I’m good, thank you.”
He’s eyeing me.
“You sure?” I nod. “Not even water? You seem dehydrated. If it’s too warm for you, we could find a better place to do the interview?”
I shake my head. “I’d just like to ask you some questions, Mr. Hale,” I emphasize by holding up my notebook while his face takes a dramatic turn from concerned to dead serious, disappointed even.
“I thought you might.” His voice is cut. Uh-oh. I believe that’s not a good sign…
I suck a sharp breath. To intimidated to speak, I can’t find my voice and clear my throat instead. Silence has wrapped around us like silk, and I feel suffocated by both the heat and his gaze.
I start the recorder and look down to my notebook.
“So… You’ve been recently crowned as the sexiest man alive, what do you feel about that?”
“Well, what is there to say? I’m flattered and grateful that people think such about me.”
“Do you think you’re…” I trail out, hoping he would get the cue. I’ve never really liked the word. It’s just stupid I know, and so is this question. Why did I write this down?
“…sexy,” I mumble.
“If I believe I’m the sexiest man alive?” He arches a brow. “No, I think no one should think of themselves like that.”
“How would you describe yourself then?”
“I’m just a man, Mr. Stilinski. Nothing more, nothing less.” I smile at his response, although he obviously is the hottest guy in the block, and more than just a man, but a super famous one.
I move on to another topic.
“Regarding to your latest movie that has recently come out to the big screens…”
“Yes, Transformer five.”
“I’m sure you’re aware of the criticism about this movie. Many are directed to your character being the new Sam? Do you have anything to say about it or to the haters?”
“I do get their point, and if I wasn’t offered the role as Miguel, I would probably be one of them.”
“Why is that?”
He shifts and leans over to his lap, resting his chin against his hand, stroking his stubble. He seems to be deep in thought.
“I guess, when you’ve followed the series from the start you get into the relationships as they grow stronger throughout the movies - such as the one between Sam and Bumblebee, which also is most of the criticism is about. You get quite attached to the characters. And without any good closer, you’re just left hanging and forced to move on. Some don’t approve it obviously. But in the other way around, I think it was good to have something new and fresh. And if not, my character wouldn’t be made and I wouldn’t be able to play it.”
I note down before I continue.
“Usually there’s a girl involved, but you didn’t get a girl, did you?”
He chuckles softly. “No, I didn’t get a girl,” the corner of his lip lifts a slight. I keep watching him, waiting for him to spill out some more. “I kind of liked that about this movie though. It would’ve been a cliché.”
“You don’t like romance?”
“I do, don’t take me wrong. But it does get old sometimes, especially when it comes to action movies. It’s always the same, and if I’m to do romance, I’d like it with passion and depth,” he says, eyes never leaving mine.
And for some unexplainable reason, I find myself blushing. I look down, trying to collect my scattered equilibrium.
“So what made you take the role as Miguel?”
“I thought it was interesting that the movie was different than the previous ones. It was about more than just to get the girl and save the world. The movie went deep into bonding, trust and friendship. And I thought it had a good message behind it.”
“How was it to film the movie?”
“It was a very fun experience. Some of it was quite new to me.”
“You have also another movie coming out soon. The one called The District, if I’m not mistaken. Are you looking forward to it?”
“I am. The premier is in LA, next week. I’m very excited to see the final product. I’ve only seen a couple of scenes from it; some might not even be in the movie. But I think it’ll surprise people.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s quite unique,” he nibbles his bottom lip and plays with it with his thumb and forefinger.
I try to look elsewhere, but his mouth just keeps drawing my eyes. I then meet his dark and intimidating eyes, shaking me off from ogling.
“Erhm… Is it true that you haven’t gone to a vacation in over five years?”
“Yes.”
“Why not?” He shrugs uncommittedly.
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought of it. I like what I do, and I get enough time to spend between movies so I haven’t really had use for it or a reason to take a time off.”
“Wouldn’t having a relationship be a good reason?”
“I suppose,” he looks at me warily, trying to figure where I was heading with this. He leans back and rests his arm along the couch ridge.
“So maybe if you’ve taken time to work out your previous ones, it would’ve last?”
I purse my lips into a fine line at once.
Oh no you just didn’t say that…
“Maybe you’re right, Mr. Stilinski. But you can also be wrong. Sometimes people are just not meant to be with each other despite how much one wants it to work,” he says softly, and I dare to look him in the eye, but he’s giving nothing away.
“You believe in true love?”
“I do make a lot of romantic films… So I must believe in something,” he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his green-hazel eyes.
I take a moment to write a note.
“What about family?” I mumble out.
“What about them?”
“Don’t you miss them working this hard?”
His smile is long gone. “As I said, I do get time to spend behind the screen,” he says flatly, I look down to take a note. He doesn’t seem to like this subject. I wonder why? It’s told he’s quite a family guy.
I let go of the topic and write another note inside a bubble: Mood swings.
“What about your modeling career? Doesn’t that occupy a lot of your time?”
“No. I don’t do shoots as much as I used to. I’ve put my career as a model aside.”
“And why is that?”
“I prefer acting,” he says shortly.
“What about your career as an artist?”
“I see it more like a hobby.”
“Are you currently working on something?”
“No.”
Why is he so clipped all a sudden? Have I offended him in some way?
I look at my notes and dwell before I decide to go beside my noted questions.
“So… What do you like to spend your free time to - besides your family, Mr. Hale?”
His expression seems to soften. “I like to do a lot of things.”
“Such as?” I can see a ghost of a smile on his face. He seems to be amused again. That’s good, considering he really frightens me otherwise.
“Go off to the seas, golf… It all depends. Sometimes I like to be left alone, which is when I take my boat. Others, I like to spend a night out with some friends.”
“Depending on your mood now, what would you like to do?” the question leaks out my mouth.
He cocks his head to one side and smirks. I then realize how cheeky that sounded, and if you were one to twist words and such - it would definitely sound wrong. I try to eliminate my smile, but don’t succeed. I chuckle and shake my head.
“I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” He laughs along.
“I’m fine with what I’m doing right now.”
I blush mortified.
“What about you, Mr. Stilinski?”
“Me?” Yes you. Who else is around?
“What do you like to do?”
“Nothing really.”
“Nothing? You must like to do something,” he arches a brow.
“Ehr... I like to read,” I say carefully.
“What kind of books do you prefer?”
I shrug and try to be nonchalant.
“I like everything that catches me.”
“Catches you,” he repeats my words as if he’s noting it down to himself. He then smiles at me as something dark flickers from his eyes. I wonder what he’s thinking. This man is a mystery to me. I then remember he’s an author himself. What a shame I haven’t read his book. I wonder if it’s good. It was one of the bestsellers years ago, so it probably is. I wonder…
“Are you thinking of making another book?”
“I’ve thought of it a lot, but nothing has really inspired me to start.”
“Oh...” Clueless what to ask next, I look down my notebook.
“A question all your female fans are dying to find out,” I introduce him to my next question. “Do you have your eyes on someone?”
“I’m currently having them on you, Stiles.” I look up at him: his eyes drilling into mine. Blood drains from my head and I gulp.
What?
“But I assume you’re referring to something more, so my answer will be no.”
I pull a breath in relief, but some of the air remains stuck in my chest as if disappointed to his answer. I take a note.
Disturbed by a sudden knock, the door opens and the blonde assistant enters, a shade of pink paints the apple of her cheeks.
“I hate to interrupt Mr. Hale, but the time is up.”
Already?
My stomach clenches, and I feel a sudden struggle to leave.
I guess I’m just not satisfied with what I’ve got out of him yet… But despite my personal needs to stay longer, I close the notebook, stop the recorder and pack it all down my bag.
“It’s alright Jennifer. I’ll follow Stiles out myself.” Stiles again!
Jennifer nods curtly and exits, the silence falls around us the door closes.
I stand up and so does he as I pull my bag over my shoulder. “There’s no need, Mr. Hale. I can see myself out.”
“I know, but I’d like to. Unless you wish I ‘d rather not…”
I dwell, not entirely sure to either accept or reject, so I shrug; his lips lift into a small smile as he gestures. Is he this well mannered all the time? Or is this a play? I’d like to know that… I’d like to see him relaxed and not this put as well.
He escorts me back to the foyer of his suite and I make sure to take a glance of everything before I leave. I should’ve taken selfies while waiting. I was even planning to ask for a selfie with Mr. Hale over here, but that was before I realized he was all this proper and old for his age. He’s only 27 - soon to become 28, and he acts more adult than my dad.
“Don’t you like your first name, Mr. Hale?” I blurt out.
He arches a brow as he opens the main door. “Why would you think such?”
“Erh… Because I can’t call you Derek?” He gestures me out with an amused smile.
“I haven’t told you different?”
“So the whole interview I could’ve just…” I trailed out, miming the rest by using my arms. But he doesn’t seem to understand me. He looks bemused.
“Just what Stiles?” Again!
“Instead of Mr. Hale, I could’ve just called you Derek,” I finish.
The guards outside the door don’t follow as we walk right through. I can’t help it but turn my head in curiosity. They stand on each their side of the door; stiff postured with hands together behind their backs. They’re both dressed in black, just like Derek with black shades, covering their eyes and where they are directed. They also have this white spiral wire from their ears. Now that I think about it, I think the assistant had one herself, blended in her soft waves.
I look back ahead as I wait for Derek to answer.
“Yes.”
I look at his profile. He’s really close. Is he this intimate to everyone? I thought he was a distant person. He’s known to be untouchable after all. So close to him, I can detect his scent. His cologne is very heady, dark, and masculine with a touch of something sweet. A phenomenal odor I don’t believe I’ve smelled before. I’d like to know what he use, and maybe buy one myself, but don’t find the courage to ask.
I shake my head.
Focus Stiles.
“But?”
“I’d prefer you not to.”
“And why is that?”
He smiles, humored. “I don’t like my first name spoken by people I don’t share a relationship with. I think it’s strange, as for you and the word sexy.”
I blush embarrassed and look down the floor.
How does he know?
“Ehr… Who can call you Derek then?”
“My family and friends. And lover if I have.”
“So people must earn to call you Derek?”
“I guess you could say that. Yes,” he answers simply.
“Well, Mr. Hale. You owe me permission to call you Derek three times since that is the number of times you’ve said my name. I think that’s only fair.”
He chuckles, but doesn’t approve.
“I think not,” he says shortly with a playful smirk. “During our way from the foyer and here, you’ve said my name five times. So it’s I you owe, Stiles.”
I scowl at him.
“You’ve got one last time left. Then we’re even.”
He smiles again, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. He seems somehow forlorn. But I ignore it. He extends his finger to press a button, summoning the lift.
We wait for seconds in dead silence before he shifts, even uncomfortably. That’s a first. He then builds some sort of courage, or settles into a decision, and turns to face me.
“So, I’d like to get to know you Mr. Stilinski.” My stomach flips. What? I turn my head wide eyed before he relents.
“I haven’t really socialized with someone outside the film industry. And I’d like to change that. Will you do me the honor to…” He shrugs. “Take you out for lunch tomorrow or something?”
Or something? That’s the first time I see a lack of accuracy on his posh vocabulary.
“Wow. Uhm…” He is watching me intently. I feel warm again. “That would be awesome, but I believe I’m far gone before that.” I smile apologetically.
“Oh.” He doesn’t look too glad to be rejected. Maybe not used to it either... Who is dumb enough to say no? Well, me obviously. “Where are you leaving to?”
“Seattle. I work for Total Film magazine there.”
“Seattle?” he asks aghast. “You went all the way across the state for a ten minutes interview?”
Eight to be precise.
“Yes,” I answer bemused. It’s nothing unusual? Some travel far longer for less than five minutes. Sometimes without luck at all because the “star doesn’t feel well.”
“When will you be leaving then?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“It’s a long flight,” he remarks and I look away with an amused smile.
“I’ll survive six hours.”
“Where are you staying for the night?” My eyes flickers back to his at once.
Why the curiosity though? But figure to be answer honest.
“Times Square Hotel. It’s not that far from here.”
This time he remains quiet, and nor do we both have time to chitchat far longer. The lifts pings and the doors slide open and I reach out my hand for a farewell.
“It was an honor to meet you in person Mr. Hale. Thank you for your time.”
“The pleasure’s all mine Mr. Stilinski.” His hand is inhumanly soft.
“You’ve got your last chance to say my name.”
He doesn’t smile, but his eyes do. They almost sparkle.
“I’d like to spare it until we meet again.” Again?
I pull a weak smile before I walk inside the lift, pressing the first floor, which is 52 stories down. It is quite a hotel.
I look up and he’s watching me intently, his hands tucked down to both pockets of his black trousers.
“Good day, Mr. Hale.”
“Safe flight, Mr. Stilinski,” he says and nod before the doors close.
End of Chapter One.