Maya sank into the worn couch in her small apartment, Chloe sprawled beside her, phone in hand and a grin she couldn't hide. The sunlight from the NYC skyline painted warm streaks across the room, but Maya felt anything but warm.
"He… he actually just handed me a business card and left!" Maya exclaimed, tossing it onto the coffee table. "Do you know who he thinks I am?"
Chloe raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Let me guess… a gold-digging, fame-chasing girl?"
"Yes! Exactly! I mean, what is that?" Maya huffed, running a hand through her hair. "I didn't even say anything! And he thinks I wanted… whatever!"
Chloe laughed, nudging her shoulder. "Maya, he's a celebrity, okay? Blake Simpson. Hockey superstar. The Blake Simpson. You didn't even know that until now, did you?"
"I knew he was famous. That much I know. But who collides with someone and assumes they want fame?!" Maya groaned, flopping back on the couch.
Chloe leaned back, her playful smirk fading into a soft smile. "Maybe he's just… used to people wanting something from him. You didn't seem like that to me. And honestly? You looked… stunned."
Maya flushed. "I was stunned, okay? And confused. And angry. And…" She paused, staring at the business card again. Why does my heart even beat like this for a stranger?
Chloe teased, voice rising just a fraction. "And intrigued?"
Maya glared, but the thought did make her heart flutter. She pushed it aside. "He's arrogant, Chloe. And annoying. And…" She paused, chewing on her lower lip. "I don't even know what he thinks of me."
---
Across town, Blake Simpson was pacing inside a quiet room in his luxury apartment. He removed his hoodie, revealing the broad shoulders and lean build honed from years on the ice. The paparazzi outside had calmed down, but the adrenaline still lingered.
Why do they never just leave me alone? he muttered, running a hand through his hair. His mind kept drifting back to the girl — Maya Clark. The one from the café. She wasn't like the others. Not like the girls who screamed and snapped photos just for a chance to be seen with him.
She… didn't even know who I was.
He shook his head, frustrated at himself. She probably hates me now.
Blake glanced down at the business card he had left her. A simple gesture, really. Compensation for the collision. But something made him pause. She wasn't flustered like other girls… she didn't care about my fame. She just… reacted.
He sighed, leaning against the wall. For once, he wanted someone to see him as… a person. Not just a celebrity.
---
The next morning, Maya trudged through the streets toward her class, coffee in hand, Chloe trailing behind with a stack of sketchbooks. The city was alive, noisy, and chaotic, but her mind kept replaying the incident with Blake.
"I swear," Maya muttered under her breath, "he thinks all girls are after money or fame. And I'm… not."
Chloe glanced at her, eyebrow raised. "You sound like you're in love already."
Maya smacked her arm. "Stop saying that!"
"Just saying…" Chloe teased, grinning. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't notice the way you looked at him."
Maya rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips.
---
Later, Maya stopped at a street café to grab a quick snack before class. She was absentmindedly scrolling through her phone when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye.
Not again, she thought.
Blake Simpson. Hoodie. Sunglasses. Moving fast. Paparazzi in tow.
Before she could react, he nearly bumped into her. This time, there was no collision against a wall — he grabbed her arm lightly to steady himself.
"Watch out!" she exclaimed.
His sunglasses slipped slightly, revealing a sharp gaze that lingered for a moment too long. "Sorry," he muttered, voice low, almost tense. "They're… everywhere."
Maya blinked. He's actually… stressed.
He noticed her stare and seemed startled. "You… you're fine?"
"Yes," Maya said, shaking her head. "I'm fine."
There was a pause, a strange moment of silence where neither of them moved. Maya felt her pulse quicken, and Blake's jaw tightened imperceptibly.
She's… not like the others, he thought, his lips pressing into a thin line.
And he's… different than I expected, Maya thought, noting how tense he seemed, the way his eyes softened ever so slightly when they met hers.
Finally, he adjusted his sunglasses, gave her a small, almost shy nod, and slipped through the street, disappearing into the city crowd with the paparazzi still shouting behind him.
Maya watched him go, frustration and curiosity swirling inside her. What does he even think of me?
Chloe, who had been trailing a few steps behind, noticed Maya's blank stare. "Girl, what just happened?" she asked, voice full of teasing curiosity.
Maya shook her head, smiling wryly. "Nothing. Just… the most complicated person I've ever met."
Chloe laughed. "Complicated? Sounds like trouble to me."
Maya groaned, tugging her backpack straps tighter. "He's a celebrity, Chloe. I'm… me. Part-time café worker, student. This… this is not my world."
"Maybe that's why it's interesting," Chloe teased, nudging her playfully. "You're grounded. He's… Blake Simpson. He's used to people falling all over him. Maybe he just hasn't met someone like you before."
Maya glanced down at the pavement, cheeks warming. Someone like me…? The thought lingered longer than she expected.
---
By the time Maya reached her apartment, her mind was a mess of thoughts, emotions, and confusion. The city outside was buzzing with life, but all she could see was him — Blake Simpson, hoodie, sunglasses, and an air of something unreachable, something magnetic.
She placed the business card on her desk, staring at it like it might answer the questions she didn't even know how to ask.
Why does he make me feel like this?
And somewhere across the city, Blake Simpson was doing the exact same thing thinking about a girl who didn't scream or snap photos at him, a girl who hadn't been impressed by his fame, a girl who had been… real.