No one. No one has been able to give you that same flutter in your chest. And you’ve tried, during your travels. Years ago, you’d decided to take a break from the industry, for your own mental benefit. You traveled to tropical and freezing cold, quiet and busy, by now you’d practically seen the whole world. And you’d mingled… you’d mingled plenty. From the men in the islands, to the boys in the cities, you’ve seen it all.

None of them were like him.

Johnny Cage. Oh, Johnny. You remember him from your first movie together, some action flick where you played the damsel in distress, a role you quickly grew out of. But you never grew out of him. Him who used to take you out for spicy margaritas after work, drives by the beach, and countless nights spent at his home… or homes, depending on the city.

Johnny liked to take you to parties. He liked to lavish you, show you off and buy you drinks. Buy you a new outfit every night, preferably something with rhinestones, so he could rip them all off with his teeth at the end of the night. He was an animal. A tamed one… for the most part.

Perhaps this nostalgia for that routine led you to this party. A bar full of hollywood hypocrites. Just your pack.

You make your way to the bar and order yourself a drink… as you wait the crowd part behind you, some comical coincidence, from a distant pool table, a brown haired head lifts. And you freeze, the butterflies in your stomach pounding against its thin lining.

Johnny stares up at you behind his shades, frozen in the very same way. With a woman wrapped around his shoulder, and a drink by his side, he slowly lifts his upper body from the pool table and brushes the woman’s off from his shoulder. Your stomach sinks as you read his lips.

“ Off . “

He whispers to the woman around his shoulders as he begins approaching the bar with a smirk.

Your throat feels tight.