Before the A-lister Was Famous

3

The next day, I took a taxi by myself, carrying a bag of beer and snacks I'd just had delivered from a convenience store, and headed to Alistair Hawthorne's place.

I knew he was home. I wanted to confront him and get a straight answer. After all, everything was just hearsay, and I wasn't ready to give up on our years-long relationship so easily.

But halfway there, a notification popped up on my phone.

"Alistair Hawthorne's Exclusive Interview: I'm Not With Raina Rhodes!"

My eyes lit up, and I clicked on the video.

Alistair Hawthorne must have just finished recording a show. He faced the microphones and cameras, a faint weariness visible in his expression.

When asked about the photos of him and Raina Rhodes, his lips curved into a smile.

"We're not together yet. But I'm pursuing her."

'I'm pursuing her.'

Those three words rang clearly in my ears, striking me like a bolt of lightning.

His voice continued from my phone. "I was just seeing her home that day, so I hope no one gets the wrong idea. Please give me a chance to win over the woman of my dreams."

As Alistair Hawthorne spoke, a hint of nervousness tinged his smile—the exact same expression he'd worn when he confessed his feelings to me years ago.

He'd smiled just like that when he asked me, "The weather's great today. Want to be my girlfriend?"

The off-camera reporters laughed along with him, and the air filled with cheers of admiration.

But in the quiet of the taxi, those sounds felt bitterly ironic.

The driver must have noticed I hadn't moved in a while. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror and commented casually, "Alistair Hawthorne, huh? He's pretty famous. Those rumors about him and Raina Rhodes have been flying around for ages. Didn't realize he hadn't won her over yet. A man truly, madly in love, I guess."

'Yeah. Truly, madly in love.'

I snapped back to reality and blankly switched off the video. I was about to tell the driver to turn around, but when I looked up, we were already stopped at the entrance to his gated community.

"We're here!"

'Well, I'm already here.'

When that old cliché popped into my head, I almost let out an inappropriate laugh.

After paying via the app, I opened the car door. I never imagined that in the few moments it took me to pull down my mask and scan my face to enter the community, a huge crowd would swarm me from behind.

"Yvonne Sinclair! What are you doing here at Alistair Hawthorne's building? Are you here to see him?!"

"There were rumors that you were the one pursuing Alistair Hawthorne. Is there any truth to that?"

"You and Alistair Hawthorne have been photographed together on multiple occasions. Are you two in a relationship?"

"As a fellow celebrity, do you know anything about how things are progressing between Alistair Hawthorne and Raina Rhodes?"

A forest of cameras was pointed at me, the reporters' questions hitting me in an endless barrage.

I gave a faint smile and chose to answer only the last question. "As a friend, I wish them the best."

My answer obviously didn't satisfy them. They pressed in closer. "So, what brings you to his doorstep at a time like this?"

I lied, my face a blank mask. "I'm here to see a friend."

It was clear they didn't believe me and were about to press further. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a man just walking out of the community and grabbed him at random.

I clutched the stranger's arm and announced without batting an eye, "See? My friend's here to get me. We're heading in now."

With that, I dragged the man with me and walked away.

The security at this community was tight, so the reporters couldn't follow. Once we were inside, I let go of the man's arm.

"I'm so sorry about that. Those reporters were after me. If you wait a bit and put on a mask, you should be able to leave without any trouble."

I finished and let out a soft sigh. With reporters camped out there, it looked like I wouldn't be able to leave through the main gate for a while.

"Hey, you look really familiar. Aren't you that—"

The man beside me spoke up. I turned to look at him and nodded calmly. "That's right. I'm that famous toad."

The man let out a snort of laughter.

It was only then that I realized the man I'd randomly grabbed was actually quite handsome. He didn't look very old, dressed like a recent college graduate.

He spoke up. "Those reporters are camped out there, so you probably don't have anywhere to go. Want to come to my place and wait it out?"

I frowned instantly.

He seemed to catch my hesitation and added, "We have to make the act convincing, right?"

He had a point. If some resourceful paparazzo managed to sneak into the community and found me alone, my little performance would have been for nothing.

I nodded. "Alright then. Thank you."

As I walked with him, my mind drifted back to a time a year ago, when Alistair Hawthorne and I were spotted by the paparazzi.

I'd gone to pick him up that day, and when we spotted them, Alistair grabbed my hand and took off running.

I stumbled along behind him as we fled through the back door, losing the paparazzi in our wake.

The sunset was beautiful that day, painting the sky in vibrant colors and bathing the boy I loved in a golden light.

We ran all the way to the beach that day.

I remember asking him, "Running through the streets so openly like this... aren't you afraid of being recognized?"

His eyes sparkled as he stood on the beach in the fading light. He scratched his head, his voice both gentle and solemn. "Yvonne, I want to build a home with you. I hope that day comes soon."

My reverie was broken by the man's voice. By then, we were already sitting in his garden, drinking tea.

"Right. For that case... yes, you can just put my name down as the person in charge. Gideon Monroe."

He hung up and, noticing me staring, raised a questioning eyebrow.

I couldn't help but ask, "You're *the* Gideon Monroe?"

'It has to be him,' I thought. 'The name, the identity, the age... What a coincidence.'

Gideon Monroe blinked, looking utterly baffled. "Which Gideon Monroe?"

I shook my head, not wanting to elaborate. "It's nothing. Thanks for letting me hide out here, but I should go now."

As I said this, I stood up to leave, and Gideon Monroe shot to his feet as well.

"Hey, you... where are you off to?"

I found his question odd, but I answered good-naturedly, "To see my ex-to-be."