This Love Will Be Your Downfall.

We met at a cast party for Oliver’s directing debut, Loathing and Loving, a romantic comedy with brooding undertones (as is expected from my younger brother). I was there, naturally, but for business. I was a journalist for the Newton Herald, a small town near Boston, and was required to get as many interviews as possible, excluding my brother (an assignment given to the latest addition to our staff). It was not my first encounter with John however; He was cast as a lead actor in Oliver’s film, a very lucky catch for him; therefore, John and I had had brief conversations prior to this event; only innocent chit-chat, nothing to spark an interest in him more than simply finding his face quite handsome. Nearly two years after repeatedly meeting in person accidentally, here I was again, in his presence, expecting nothing more than what had already been exchanged between the two of us.
“Callie!” My brother jogged over to me with a grin from ear to ear. He was such a lady killer in his navy blue suit. “How’s it going so far?”
I nodded “Good, great. I’m so proud of you, Ollie. This is a great turnout and KU-DOS on getting John in a starring role, that is going to sell very nicely.”
He shrugged sheepishly. “Ah, it’s not that amazing. I just got lucky. Speaking of which, you should definitely snag at least a quick interview with him; after all, you are writing for his hometown’s newspaper. Not to mention you guys need to initiate, y’know, a little ‘fling’ so-to-speak. It’d be great for you.” He smirked and nudged me.
I laughed nervously. “A-oh, hah, well, I doubt John Krasinski is into me. I mean I have hardly spoken to the guy, as well as the fact he is a famous actor who can have any woman he desires. And let us not forget to take into consideration the fact that I am not even looking for anything right now, not even sex with a famous actor.” We laughed together.
“Alright then, just saying…you two seem like you’d make a good fit if you tried. And sex with a famous actor would just bump up your credentials, sis; did you forget you’re in the entertainment business?” He laughed again. “KIDDING. Don’t listen to me, I just barely poked my head in the door.” He patted my shoulder. “See ya ‘round Cal.”
He walked towards a handful of debonair gentlemen and turned on that Hollywood charm to which he was now adjusting. I smiled towards him then looked around for a relevant person to interview. I saw Holly, the new girl, flustering about the balcony, desperately scoping out prospective interviewees. As I made my way towards her, I glanced to my right side to spot John looking at me; he smiled somewhat sensually; I smiled back slyly and began walking faster towards Holly.
I placed my hand on the small of her back. “Any luck, hon?”
She looked at me, despair written across her small face. “I just don’t know how to get people to stop and listen to me. They all just walk away before I can get out a complete sentence. Maybe I’m not approaching the right people…”
“That’s exactly what it is,” I said, turning her to face a few producers I recognized. “See those gentlemen there? Avoid them at all costs, unless you’re covering the film industry in depth rather than just a new movie in theatres. You want to scope out the more…simple folks. Less sophisticated but still classy. And, of course, if you recognize an actor who is in the film, approach them immediately. Actors and actresses are easier to talk to because they are simply used to being interviewed.” As I spoke, John walked past. I grabbed his arm and pulled him to Holly and I. “For instance, Mr. Krasinski here would be more than willing to answer any questions you have about his new movie.” John and I exchanged looks; he confused, I just smiled apologetically.
He cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, yes, of course. Being interviewed is a routine of my daily life at this point.” He smiled at Holly, then at me. “Go ahead.”
Holly stared at him, starstruck for a moment, then gather herself frantically. “I—um, okay, hello, I’m Holly and I’m doing a story for the Newton Herald on your new movie—“
“The Newton Herald, as in Newton, Massachusetts?” He interrupted.
Holly nodded hesitantly and looked at me confused. “Um…y-yes sir…Newton, Massachusetts is correct…”
He laughed. “Sorry, that’s my hometown; I didn’t realize the Herald covered films.”
“Oh, yes, all the time. Um, Callie here works with me—er, I work with her…I’m new.” Holly chuckled nervously.
John looked at me and smiled that same sensual smile. “You don’t say…” We stared at each other for a moment before Holly went on with her interview.
“Yes…well, um, I—uh—I just needed to ask you a few questions for my article if you don’t mind…”
I smirked at him and turned away, going into the house and pouring myself a glass of Moscato at the kitchen island. I sipped it as I watched Holly and John through the glass of the back window and smiled.
Oliver walked up, pouring a glass of wine as well. “Holly got her interview.” He smirked. “Any thanks going out to you for that? I saw her floundering out there just a moment ago.”
I smirked. “Yes, I suppose. I gave her tips on how to actually get interviews instead of being shunned by arrogant assholes, like your producer friends…” I trailed off and looked to him.
“They’re not my producer friends. They’re my producer’s producer friends.” We laughed. “I still think you should take my advice—spark something with John. He’s single y’know…”
I sighed and finished off my glass, turning towards him. “I am not looking for anything. How many times must I reiterate that point? Also, as I said before, he’s John-fuckin-Krasinski—there’s no possibility of that even if I wanted it. Not to mention, I could be fired for sleeping with a client…”
“Ah, your boss doesn’t have to know. And if you do get fired, you can always live off of John.” He laughed and jerked away as I swatted towards him. He walked out of the kitchen and into the living area, once again killing it with the Hollywood charm.
As I went to pour another glass of Moscato, an arm reached over me, taking the bottle. I turned around to find John standing there, bottle in one hand, the other outreached for my glass, a big smile on his face. I sighed under my breath, smirked and handed him my glass. He filled it halfway, then handed it to me. I nodded and took a sip.
“Why do I keep running into you?” I asked, sarcastically inquisitive.
He chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “Fate, I suppose. The Gods wants us to be in each other’s presence…or some shit.” He chuckled again, and I smirked. “Why did you give your big interview with me to Holly? I thought journalism was like a dog-eat-dog type of business.”
I laughed at this. “I’m just a nice person I guess. She almost ruined her hardly formed career tonight, the poor dear, so I figured I would help her out. She seems like a nice girl.” I shrugged.
He poured himself a glass of wine and sipped it. “Well, do you think an additional interview will help? As in, you interview me as well?” He looked up at me from his glass with a pitiful look.
I laughed. “Oh, god, really?? Are we going to play that game? And then you are going to seduce me and that will be it, right?” I laughed again, taking a sip of my wine.
He scoffed, surprised, then chuckled. “You think that’s what this is? Jeez, I’m glad you think so highly of me. Apparently I have no moral values in your eyes.”
“That’s not it at all,” I started. “I’ve just been around you single Hollywood types far too long, I know how the game works. I’ve known coworkers who’ve lost their jobs because of a one-night stand with George Clooney, Matt Damon, Robert Downey Jr., because they were so blind to their motives…You won’t outsmart me, Mr. Krasinski.” I smiled wily.
He laughed a stifled laugh. “First of all, call me John, please. Secondly, those guys are known for playing women, so I am deeply offended you would relate me to them.” He grabbed at his chest as he spoke, a grin on his face the entire time.
I laughed, and took a moment to think. “Alright. You proved me wrong. Are you happy now? How can I ever show you my appreciation for your correctiveness?” I smirked, taking another sip from my glass.
“Interview me.” He replied. He wasn’t joking, his face void of a smile, and I wondered what he really meant.
I shrugged. “What the hell,” I nodded towards the living room. “Follow me,” he grabbed for my hand. “but do not hold my hand.”
I heard him chuckle, and he moved his hand. He followed me across the living room, down the hall and to my temporary bedroom while I was in town. I reached for the door, but he beat me to it, twisting the knob and pushing it open. I walked in and he followed.
I sat my glass on my nightstand and crossed my arms. He lingered by the door and smiled at me. “So, Mr. Krasinski, I would like to interview you for the Newton Herald about the new movie in which you having a starring role. How did you come about the role?”
He smirked and put his free hand in his pocket. “Well,” he took sipped his wine for a moment. “I got a call from my agent saying a ‘hot new filmmaker’ needed a male lead in a romantic comedy-ish, and explained the plot to me. It seemed a perfect fit, so I auditioned and…yeah, here we are now.”
I placed my hands on my hips, not writing down a single word he said. “Great.” He sauntered over to me, reaching behind me and setting his glass next to mine. “And were you amazed at the creative genius of the director while filming?” I smiled.
He chuckled. He was hardly a foot from me now, staring right at me. “But, of course. However, I am more amazed with his gorgeous sister and how much I just want to kiss her beautiful red lips…”
He trailed off, taking my head in his hands and kissing me. I kept my hands on my hips for a moment before succumbing to him. I placed a hand on either side of his face, kissing back. He moved his hands to the back of my head and tangled his fingers in my auburn hair. I did the same, eagerly pulling him closer to me. He moved his lips from my mouth down to my neck and began kissing. I tilted my head back and sighed sensually, gripping his hair tighter. His hands moved down my back and worked at the zipper on my little black dress, pulling it down as I gripped at the buttons on his shirt. He spun me around, pushed me onto the bed and lie on top of me, kissing me all over. The entire night then commenced with exceptional bliss.

I awoke in a haze, hearing nothing but panicked shuffling and shouting outside my bedroom; I recognized Oliver’s voice. I closed my eyes and rolled over to find John sleeping next to me and wiped the romantic smile off my face before it could fully form. Then, a pounding on my door startled the both of us.
“Cal! Callie!! Callie, wake up! John is M.I.A., his agent is blowing up my phone and threatening to call the police, we have to find him…” Footsteps retreated to the living room; more violent shuffling ensued and the pounding on the door began again. “Callie, get the fuck up, I need you RIGHT FUCKIN’ NOW!!!” The doorknob jiggled and, before I had a moment to realize, Oliver flung the door open and was taken aback violently. “..the fuck is this? Did you guys NOT hear me all morning flipping the fuck out??”
John jumped up and fell off the bed, trying to maintain his dignity with the corner of the bed sheet. I looked over at him, then back at Oliver, utterly confused and somewhat frightened by the look in his eye. “I—you—uh—he was here all night Irving, I thought you knew…What the fuck, Oliver??”
Ollie looked over at John, rolled his eyes and leaned against the post of the door, sighing heavily for what seemed like ten minutes. John scooped up what he could find of his clothing and scrambled to the personal bathroom attached to the bedroom. I sighed and slapped my forehead, laying my head in my hand.
“Well,” Oliver started looking at me. “I-I-I’m just glad he’s alive and not kidnapped or something. James would have my head on a fucking plate.” He put his hands on his hips and looked to the floor. “On a side note, I’m glad to see you took my advice. I told you I was on to something.” He grinned. I rolled my eyes and he left the room, closing the door behind him.
I heard him schmoozing James, John’s agent, over the phone. I flung myself back onto the bed and squeezed my eyes shut. John came cautiously out of the bathroom with his pants on, shirt unbuttoned. “Is he gone?”
I laughed and John began to search the room for the remainder of his suit. I walked over to him, still entirely naked as I couldn’t find my dress, and handed him his tie that was tangled in the sheets. He buttoned up his shirt, put on his shoes and went to kiss me. I pulled away. He gave me an odd look and I shook my head apologetically.
“So, that’s it then. You’re going to do to me what you assumed I was going to do to you last night? George Clooney, Matt Damon, Robert Downey, Jr?” He looked at me, slight heartbreak in his eyes.
I furrowed my brow at him and shook my head slowly. “I…am just not looking for anything right now. I didn’t even want to get involved with you last night because I knew it wouldn’t be good regardless…”
He scoffed, shaking his head and turning away from me. “I cannot believe this…okay, well…see you at the premiere…” He glanced at me, walking to the door and slamming it shut behind him. I sighed, fighting the urge to follow him out and to beg him to call me later. I got halfway across the room before stopping and gripping the bridge of my nose. I found the dress he had removed last night shuffled into it and stumbled out of the room and into the kitchen where Irving was facing the stove; he was cooking breakfast by the smell of it.
I made my way to the coffee pot, pouring a cup as Oliver started in. “What’d you do to John? He seemed exceptionally peeved…” He glanced at me before scooping his omelet onto a plate.
“I gave him the cold shoulder.” I sipped my coffee, staring blankly at the kitchen island. “We had very different perspectives of what last night meant.” I took a seat on one of the stools standing in front of the island and continued drinking my House blend.
“Ah. Well, I definitely sensed a spark between the two of you. A substantial spark, not just a ‘they are going to hook up tonight’ spark.” He sat the omelet in front of me and offered a fork.
I was taken aback. “You cooked me breakfast?”
He nodded. “Your favorite bacon and cheese omelet.” He smiled and nudged the fork at me again. I took it and smiled, cutting into the omelet and taking a modest bite. I gave him an eager thumbs-up. “This makes me feel less guilty about John.” I chuckled once, then furrowed my brow trying to wrap my head around the situation.
Oliver choked on his orange juice. “You feel guilty?? Callie, that’s…fucking excellent!”
I scoffed. “Thanks for making me feel better…” I took another bite and sipped my coffee as Irving continued.
“No, I mean—if you didn’t feel guilty…then I would be entirely wrong about that spark I felt last night. Seeing how you do feel guilty and it’s nagging at you…I’m right. And you need to call him, and apologize, and ask him to dinner—well, I mean if he doesn’t ask you first.” He grinned, a twinkle in his eye that only appeared when he came up with something extremely brilliant.
I shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. But…I don’t know…it is a little odd to me…the whole dating a movie star thing…he is very handsome and so terribly sweet and respectful but he’s famous which means I will have to learn to deal with paparazzi and my own people asking questions all the time…”
“I think you should call him.” Oliver grinned again. “I mean,” he started as he began to rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher. “I sense something, you both acted on it, he wants more, and you just admitted that I’m right.” He started the dishwasher and looked at me, eyebrows raised. “How much better can it get?”
I shrugged. “I have to get ready for work.” I got up from the island, finished off the last drink of my coffee and walked towards my bedroom. As I curled my hair, staring at my pallid reflection in the vanity mirror, I thought of John. Maybe Oliver was right. Maybe I should just go for it, give it a trial run just to see if it will be worth my time. After applying subtle makeup complete with liquid lining on my top eyelids, I gently pulled my hair from the rollers, shook it loose and lightly teased it with a fine-toothed comb before I pulled my gray pencil skirt over my slip and slid into my pale pink chiffon blouse, tucking into my skirt. I grabbed my pocketbook and work satchel before hopping into my black pumps and making my way to the front door.
“Hey, wait Callie—“ Oliver stepped in front of me, his hands held out. “Just—seriously, give the guy some credit. He could have potentially ruined his reputation last night, just as you could have as well. He was clearly willing to risk that to be alone with you. Call him.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “I didn’t get his number. Even if I wanted to give it a try, I can’t. It’s over.” I walked past Irving and finally reached the door as he continued speaking.
“Well, no it’s not because…I gave him your number.” I jerked my head back to him holding the door ajar. He smirked and smiled sheepishly. “He persisted. He threatened not to work for me again if I didn’t.”
“Thank you. Goodbye.” I stomped out the doorway, slamming the door behind me and making it to the elevator just before it closed. I was infuriated with Oliver. However, at the same time I smiled inside, knowing there was a slight glimmer of hope now that John had a way of contacting me if he so chose. I took a deep breath before the elevator opened and I made my way out to my black Jetta and sped off to the Herald headquarters in, most ironically, the heart of Boston. I parked in front of the modest five-story building and made my way in. My blood pressure had lowered during the brief, 15-minute car ride and I was feeling well. I walked inside and took the elevator up to the 3rd floor. This was my routine every day for the next five days.