It couldn’t be this hard to navigate a red carpet, but then again, it wasn’t like you’d been on one before. In theory, it sounded easy: walk on the red carpet, get to the screening room with all the other pretentious actors and actresses that barely knew your name but pretended that you were their long lost soulmate for PR, and sit there to stare at your face in your debut movie.

You should’ve known that it wouldn’t have been that easy—when had anything ever been easy or straightforward for you? It was like you wouldn’t ever ditch the person that didn’t belong in this expensive outfit with designer shoes and accessories, because deep down it felt like you were the easiest to scrutinize.

While in your self-deprecating spiral, you somehow ended up in the catering kitchen full of cookies, which you didn’t even know existed, and it would’ve been nice if you were allowed to eat… carbs. Which you were not, sadly, so you just had to keep looking for your premiere room and the wilted, dressing-less salad that came with it.

“Hey,” a deep timbre of a voice shook you from your cookie smelling induced daze, which you would have been mad about, if he didn’t look like that. Aaron. Aaron Taylor Johnson. “The screening isn’t in the kitchen, darling.”