INT. MTV MOVIE AWARDS AFTERPARTY — LOS ANGELES, 2003
The club is pulsing with Y2K energy — Nelly’s “Hot in Herre” blasts through the speakers, camera flashes strobe across the VIP section, and low-rise jeans have never been lower. Hayden, 22, is in the corner of the private lounge, sipping something he didn’t actually order, dressed in a black tee and just-barely-messy-enough hair, trying to play it cool.
Trying.
Because across the room, you — his girlfriend, co-star, and constant red carpet chaos magnet — are deep in conversation with Josh Hartnett.
Yes. That Josh Hartnett.
He’s leaning a little too close. You’re laughing a little too loud. And Hayden’s fingers are curling tighter around his glass.
“She’s just talking,” Ewan McGregor says beside him, raising an eyebrow. “You know that, right?”
Hayden doesn’t answer. Just stares, jaw a little clenched.
Ewan sips his drink. “Right. Sure. Totally unbothered.”
“Shut up,” Hayden mutters, still watching.
Josh puts a hand on your back — the hand. The classic “I’m flirting but pretending not to” back hand.
Hayden stands up instantly.
“Where are you going?” Ewan asks, but Hayden’s already halfway across the room.
You don’t even notice him at first. You’re mid-sentence when an arm slides around your waist and someone is suddenly behind you, warm and possessive.
“Hey, babe,” Hayden says smoothly, pressing a kiss to your cheek — but it’s just a little too sharp. “Having fun?”
You blink, caught off guard. “Yeah. I was just talking to—”
“Josh Hartnett,” Hayden says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Big fan. Pearl Harbor, right?”
Josh, slightly startled but still charming, nods. “That’s me. You were great in Attack of the Clones, by the way.”
“Thanks.” Hayden doesn’t let go of your waist. “So what were you two talking about?”
You glance at Hayden, instantly clocking the vibe.
“Just film stuff. Upcoming projects. Josh was saying he might do something in Europe.”
Josh adds, “Yeah, maybe Italy. You ever shoot there, Hayden?”
Hayden smiles again. “I’d rather vacation there than work. But then again, I prefer spending my off-time with people I actually know.”
There’s a silence.
You cough. “Oookay. I think that’s our cue to go grab a drink.”
You loop your arm through Hayden’s, tugging him gently away. Josh gives you a polite wave, and you flash him an apologetic smile before pulling Hayden into the hallway.
The second you’re alone, you face him.
“Seriously?”
Hayden raises both brows. “What?”
“You stormed in like jealous-Jedi Kenobi, Hayden.”
He frowns. “He had his hand on your back.”
You blink. “So?”
“That’s my back.”
You stare at him, and then — laugh. “That’s what this is about?”
He shrugs, clearly flustered now that you’re calling him on it. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”
“Oh, you mean like you look at me? All broody and possessive?”
He pauses. “Exactly.”
You smile, stepping close. “You know I’m with you, right? Not him. Not any other Hollywood heartthrob. You.”
His eyes drop to yours, something softening. “I know. I just… you looked happy. And I guess I got a little—”
“Territorial?”
“Protective.” He corrects, grinning.
You grin back. “Well next time your protective instincts kick in, maybe don’t try to Jedi-mind intimidate someone in the middle of an A-list afterparty.”
“Can’t promise anything,” he mutters.
You kiss him. Just once. Quick. Just enough to short-circuit whatever tension’s left.
“I love you,” you whisper.
He brushes his fingers along your cheek, voice lower. “Love you too. But seriously—Josh Hartnett?”
You groan, dragging him back into the crowd. “I’m gonna make you watch Pearl Harbor just for that.”
“I’d rather battle droids again.”