Go get coffee with Emma Stone!

‘Are you serious? You didn’t bring me pizza?’

Emma Stone’s laugh ripples out through the coffee shop, and only get louder when she notices you flushing. ‘What the hell, man? I thought I was getting the star treatment! You only spoil the girls you wanna make out with, is that it?’ She smirks and takes a sip of her coffee.

You have to laugh. ‘Sorry. I’m basically broke this week. You’re gonna have to make do with your fancy cold coffee, and be grateful.’

Emma snickers. ‘It’s called a frappé, man. You’re even worse at L.A. than I am.’

You poke your tongue out at her with all the dignity you can muster, and take a sip of your own plain black coffee. Outside the curving glass window, skaters fly past, some doing kickflips and jumps, some grinding off the concrete bowls.

‘I have to say,’ you admit, leaning back in your chair, ‘I didn’t have you down as a Venice Beach kind of girl.’

Emma looks interested. ‘Yeah? What did you have me down as?’

Her stare, intense and green-eyed, makes you slightly uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know,’ you tell her, taking a long swig of coffee. ‘Don’t really know much about you, to be honest. And you don’t seem like, you know…’ You clear your throat. ‘Well, your standard Hollywood princess.’

Emma grins, looking flattered. ‘Cheers. Do my best.’