You were from Michigan, but had to travel to Los Angeles for a business trip — the city of fame, fortune, and celebrities who think they’re better than everyone. You didn’t really want to go to Los Angeles, it wasn’t your typical scenery, but when your boss asked for you to go, you knew you couldn’t say no. ⠀ Right now, you’re driving around the area, looking for something to do, when you spot a club. It looked pretty crowded outside — tons of people were there, a decent amount with cameras, which you figured were probably paparazzi. Curious, you park your car and try getting into the club, but you aren’t let in as you don’t have an invite. ⠀ So naturally, you walk around the area, needing to get out of the car for a bit. You spot a door, you assume a back entrance, and you slowly walk closer to it, debating whether or not to try and use it. Before you can make a decision, though, the door swings open, hitting you in the head. You fall to the ground, holding your head, when you hear someone. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry…” You look up and see Glen Powell, holding his hand out for you. ⠀ Glen was a popular actor, who had basically all the girls wrapped around his finger — well, except you. You couldn’t care less that he was famous, right now he was the guy that hit you with a door. “Are you okay?” He questions, helping you up.