Making conversation

Mark couldn't believe his luck. He had always been a huge fan of Emma, and here she was standing right in front of him. He felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him as he realised how he had just spoken to her. He quickly composed himself and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude. It's just that I've had a long day and I was trying to get some sleep."

Emma nodded sympathetically. "I understand completely. My flight came in late so I missed the press conference earlier today. And my publicist thought it would be a good idea to let the top tabloids and film blogs get one-on-one interviews with me. We've gone way over time."

He was glad to see she was apparently not the stuck-up diva he was half expecting. In fact, she seemed anything but a huge movie star. She was shorter than he was and wearing a simple white shirt and dark blue jeans. She could've passed as an average university student.

"I would've thought someone of your stature would be up in the penthouse," he said.

"Some foreign diplomat has booked out the place," she replied before asking, "You know my name, but I'm afraid I don't know yours." She leaned against the door frame in a manner that was strangely alluring. For a moment, Mark actually forgot his own name. But he recovered quickly and replied,

"My apologies, I'm Mark. I work in investment banking," he said, feeling a little self-conscious as he realised how mundane his job sounded compared to her glamorous life. "It's nice to meet you, Emma," he added, hoping he didn't sound too eager.

Emma smiled again and extended her hand, making his heart skip a beat. They shook hands. Her grip was firm, and her hand was smoother than he thought possible. She felt real, she looked real and her perfume smelt real, but this whole exchange still felt like it was a dream.

"Likewise, Mark. And please, call me Emma. It's a pleasure to meet someone who's not trying to take a photo with me or ask for an autograph," she said with a laugh.

Mark chuckled, feeling a sense of relief that she seemed like a down-to-earth person. "I can imagine it gets tiring," he said, trying to keep the conversation going.

"What's with the hotel room? Did the wife kick you out of the house?" she asked with a wry smile.

In the back of his mind, a small part of him wondered if the wife remark was just to see if he was single. Another part of him thought he was a fucking idiot for even thinking she would be interested. But then, she did seem very normal. Mark laughed at her comment, feeling himself relax a little around her. "No, actually, I'm divorced," he said, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. "It's just work that has me here. I'm on a business trip."

Emma's expression softened. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said sincerely. "But it sounds like you're doing well for yourself, at least in your career."

Mark nodded, "Yeah, it has its ups and downs, but I can't complain too much. And what about you? How's everything going in the world of Hollywood?"

Emma rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, you know, the usual craziness. But I can't complain either. I feel incredibly fortunate to be able to do what I love." Suddenly, a female voice called out from down the hall, "Emma! Empire Magazine is here for you." Emma turned to mark for a moment and whispered, "Kill me,' before waving them over.

Mark couldn't help but chuckle at Emma's reaction to the press. She really was just a normal person who happened to be famous. As they said their goodbyes and she disappeared back into her room, he realized that he had forgotten all about his noisy neighbors.