#and how I can't figure out WHERE the quote is and the scripts are uh...

[loregoddess]

I keep thinking of things that would have been so cool if they had been added into Three Houses or Hopes, like support conversations between two characters who basically we don't get to see interact otherwise but the potential is there, and then I get to sit here knowing that I'm not gonna get to see that be like, an official thing

[transboyswitchytales]

'Not Like The Movies Baby'🔒 🎬

🔒Maya Mason x RomCom Queen Reader 🔑

You are the most famous RomCom writer in Hollywood. And Maya Mason is head over heels in love with you. Too bad you won't give her the time of day. And Maya? Well, she's never been one to shy away from something she wants. And Maya wants you and only you. Can you still make the movie for The Studio? Why can't Maya just leave you alone?

WARNINGS:

Sexualy Explicit Stories / Dirty Language / Drugs / People High / Big Parties / Hollywood Tropes / Enemies to Lovers / RomCom Refrences / Yearning / Reader has past sexual trauma mentioned / Reader isn't nice and that's ok she doesn't have to be all the time / Movie Refrences / Maya is obsessed with us / Mommy Kink/ Slow Burn

(Want to read more Maya fics? Here's: My Masterlist) This is gonna be another long story. Let's fucking goooo!

It all started on a random Tuesday in a coked-up, crazy backlot of Hollywood. A place where no love story really begins.

Maya saw you the first time with actors and actresses swarming around you. You had just won another award. She eyed you in your group of bigwigs. You had more known actresses acting gay for you than a stupid bachelorette party in Vegas.  

You smiled as Julia Roberts gave you her signature laugh. But Maya saw it, as everyone was distracted, your face fell. And then you pasted it back on quickly as Chris Evans refilled your champagne and told you another bad joke. 

But from that moment on, something about you just stuck with Maya. At frist she’d tried to find a look a like, fuck some nobody and get it out of her system. But as your look alike was kissing Maya’s neck, Maya whispered your name. Said poor girl freaked out and Maya looked into her dates eyes and didn’t see you, and she ended the date then and there. Paying for the girls Uber. And going home alone.  

That was a few months ago, and Maya had set up her Google alerts to any news on you. New movie rumors, sure, but dates you go out on, sightings of you on vacation, anything she could find really. 

When Matt excitedly told Maya and the team that he’d bought one of your new scripts, everyone was excited, and Maya froze on the spot. 

Patty was the first to notice this.

“Maya, aren’t you excited we got the Ravishing Rom-Com Lady herself!” Patty said only seeing another Golden Globe in her future. Maya quickly plastered a look on her face for the team. 

“Of fucking course! We’re gonna make so much fucking money with this girl! When is she coming in?” The last part didn’t hold the same excitement. 

“Uh, tomorrow I set up the meeting.” Matt said and Sal jumped up and down in excitement. 

“Dude when she wrote ‘Days of Delight’ with fucking Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson! Fuck that’s their best movie!” He squealed like a little girl. 

“How to lose a guy in ten days was good, but Days of Delight is fucking quoteable and it grossed twice as much!” Matt pointed out and the two of them quotes the movie to each other over and over. 

Maya didn’t stay, she grabbed her ipad and Stanely cup and went to figure out how she was going to score a date with the rom com queen. 

When you came in, Maya surveyed your outfit and was so impressed she felt outdone. But she stared at your ass as you shook everyones hand. 

When Maya reached her hand out you look down at it and then turned to Patty and started to talk. Everyone noticed, how could they not, you snubbed Maya Mason. 

“Patty I read your email, I’m almost done with the script. I enjoyed your notes, I think the side plot of the best friend is wonderful to change. But I was hoping we could cast Kathryn Hahn as a lead, not the friend in this film.” You told Patty and they all sat, and Maya cut in front of Quinn to sit next to you. 

You don’t look at Maya. 

“But she’s kinda a girl next door look no?” Matt tries and you disagree with him immediately. 

“I know you are used to having her in comedy roles in your Studio, but she’s very dynamic. I know she can show the turmoil of this broken, raw,  feeling I need for this role. So she’s my first choice. And I do have her number, she said she would be interested in reading it. I just wanted to make sure we gave her first looks.” You explain and Sal is scribbling notes which everyone thinks is ridiculous.  

They all talk for about twenty minutes about how much they love the script and the yearning core you are going for. Maya’s eyes never leave you. Just as you are standning up Maya cuts in and finally asks;

“Kathryn Hahn is very in right now with lesbians, but what about your leading man?” Maya asks and you ignore her and turn to look over her at Quinn. 

“Can you email me the timeline on advertising.” You say and all eyes look to Maya who is pissed and so turned on. 

But you walk out after shaking Matt’s and Patty’s hand and then turn on your leather boot heel  and walk out. Maya leaves her stuff and runs after you. She hears Sal saying ‘damn burn’ and she yells loud enough for the entire floor to hear her, turning over her shoulder to call his ‘dick floppy and his wrinkly scrotum matches that of E.T.

People laugh but she doesn’t care, she’s almost sprinting to catch you.   

“Hey! WAIT!”

You don’t turn to her and so she walks in front of you and blocks your path. 

“What did I do to deserve all of that sweetheart?” She says and your face turns even colder at the nickname.

“Ms. Mason-” You start as if you are already exhausted from having to speak to her. Maya is floored at how much of a dislike you have for her. 

“Maya, It’s Maya, please come on. I’m head of marketing on your movie. You can’t even look at me?” The older hollywood head says to you. 

“Ms. Mason, your reputation is…” You trail off and Maya has the nerve to look proud of her reputation. Though your face doesn’t mirror the pride she seems to feel for what people say about her. The fear she evokes. 

“So you hold whatever that was against me?” Maya finishes the thought for you. 

“No, actually it’s just….” You are working so hard to be civil and Maya doesn’t like all this stupid pussyfooting around. So when she tilts her head to the side and decides to lay on the rizz. 

“So are you jealous baby? You don’t wanna have a good time too?” She says and your bullshit attempt at staying aloof but professional goes out the window. And fuck does your anger turn Maya on. 

You chuckle like a villain in a movie. Before saying what you really think. Maya would have paid good money for this kind of humiliation. 

“I’ve met so many of you, you know that right? That you aren’t anything new. I respect your job, I respect your studio. Which is why I’ll sell you the rights to my movie. But Maya Mason, make no mistake. I see you. You wear more labels than a NASCAR driver. You say the most ‘lit’ terms and you have your hand on the pulse of social media. You probably know when Angelina Jolie’s sex tape drops before Brad Pitt. But here’s the thing, I don’t like you. You like cheap stimulation, you reak of one night stands, and reused pick-up lines. We have nothing in common. You are everything that’s wrong with this industry..and honestly this town.” You say and you feel such relief in not having to play nice in the sandbox. You expect Maya to retaliate or say her studio won’t make your movie anymore. 

You don’t expect her to laugh and Maya to look giddy at you. 

“Damn, my mother should take notes from you. I think my past therapist took six months to gently tell me a word of what you just said in five seconds. Fuck you are something else Miss RomCom, let me buy you a cup of coffee? Or there’s this great bistro?” Maya flirts and your eyebrow twitches. Before you sneer realizing what this is. 

“Mason don’t do this.” You say like she’s being stupid. 

“What! You might actually find the conversation stimulating! I could surprise you. What with my original pick up lines. Come on baby?” Maya says and you pull your phone out to see a text.  

“I don’t have time for this.” You say like you are telling a toddler you can’t possibly play Barbies right now. 

Maya makes a mental note that she’s never felt more alive. Fuck gentle banter at a bar, you had her veins lighting up more than any drug she’d ever taken. 

“For coffee? Or lunch?” Maya says like it’s innocent. 

But you put your phone down and glare again. You feed her another round of insults. 

“For your games. I’m not here for this. Please do me a favor, don’t take this as me challenging you. It’s so toxic, just like whatever you are probably thinking right now. Marketing head Mason, you are so predictable. We aren’t kids on a playground. You want me because I’m not interested and that’s gross. Listen, I could tell you a bunch of cliche shit. You aren’t my type, I’m not looking for what you are right now. Whatever you want to hear. But the truth of it is, I’m not interested. And you are so not used to being turned down by a girl…that you think that means you should push harder is just so…predictable. Just leave me alone, go fuck a model or an assistant or some new actress. Someone who’s never heard of Virginia Woolf or Margaret Atwood, who thinks classic music is Harry Styles. Ok? Call me a snob to your buddies, and do a line in the bathroom like everyone else.”

You say and Maya just smirks. Her voice drops an octave and she stepps forward and you try not to let the power play show that you are actually having fun now. 

“You think you got me all figured out sweetie?”

You don’t let this nickname thing keep going, it’s so worn out. You practically make the same face Anne Hathaway does leaving the gross hotel suite in Paris in Devil Wears Prada. ‘I’m not your Baby.’ The line plays in your mind and you channel that energy as you say it to Maya. 

“I’m not your sweetie Mason. I’m just another writer in this town. I’m nobody to you, ok? Sell my movie, that’s great. I’m grateful for all you are going to do. I’m sure you will do a wonderful job. But I don’t want your coffee or cheap tricks in bed. I’m sure you’ll be one of those pillow princesses, anyway. If I wanted cheap sex and to be left unsatisfied I’d go to any bar in town and pick up a vapid straight man. I don’t have time to draw you a map to my clit and teach you what clockwise means. You seem like a boring lay.” You say and you feel, like Maya, the most alive you had in a long time. 

This was so much better than pretending to laugh at an actors shitty joke while wearing a designer dress you can’t breathe in, at a party you never wanted to go to. This was practically therapeutic. 

You tried to push down the thought that this would come back to haunt you later. 

Because Maya stepped forward again and you were sure she was just as turned on as you. 

“Wanna bet?” Maya says and she get’s a little closer to your ear to whisper it, her breath teases your skin. But you don’t take the bait and move away. You keep your expression unfazed. 

“I don’t have the time to waste. I am looking for someone who has read a book, can hold an adult conversation. Not a vain girl who’s main news outlet is Twitter, or X or whatever it is this week. I want someone with an IQ over the legal drinking age, not to sit with you as you scroll through Tik Tok. I’m so not your type Mason. Thank you for the meeting. I’ll try to be kinder now that we both understand each other.” You put your gentle face back on, the one you’d practiced. Maya for the first time looks upset, not liking you putting your claws away. 

You think of that Taylor Switft song and you want to tell Maya why you can’t be yourself any more. You have to put it all away.; I was tame, I was gentle 'til the circus life made me mean."Don't you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth"

Maya seems to read you and she also puts on a facade.

You put your hand out, it’s meant as a sort of truce. You both got to play, and now you both had to pretend again. You could pretend all day, but Maya was a master at manipulation. She knew this game you were playing and wouldn’t be fooled. 

So Maya takes your soft scarred hand and then leans down and kisses it, her lips are so soft. The lipstick no longer sticky on her lips, she smells of expensive perfume and money. And you almost close your eyes to enjoy the feeling, but you won’t allow it. You let her touch you, because you don’t have the strength to deny her that. But as she stands back up you slap another glare at her. 

Maya only seems amused at your attempt, and you wonder if you are losing your touch.

“I hope you aren’t kinder, what a waste fake pleasantries are. You busy tomorrow night?” Maya releases your hand and smiles and you scoff at her and turn around. So she calls out behind you. 

“How about Friday?” She yells and you walk to your car. 

Quinn comes from around the corner. 

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone tell you…no. That was kinda pathetic. She really told you off.” Maya didn’t say a word to Quinn though, in her head she was already planning your wedding together. 

She mumbles as she can no longer see you, ‘What a woman.’

_______

That’s how it was for a month. Maya sent you flowers, chocolates, weed care baskets, she sent you invites to parties and endless expensive gifts. In turn you gave no indication to any of her advances. You returned the expensive gifts, and Maya had heard it from someone on the lot that you tossed every flower out. 

But Maya wouldn’t be easily ignored. 

You worked through Quinn when you needed to tell Maya something. Maya threatened Quinn one day with a letter opener for your phone number, but she swore she didn’t have it. That you came in person to talk to her. She was shaking like a leaf when Maya rolled her eyes and stabbed the letter opener into her wood desk and walked out.

The whole lot figured out quickly the tension and Maya was like ‘Pavlov’s Dog’ she was so hungry for you. She stopped dating, she stopped social media scrolling, it did feel like….cheap stimulation. Just like you had said. 

That weekend Maya got a new google alert about you. 

She instantly wished she hadn’t looked.

Because this was the first time she’ seen you out on a date. 

The picture made her skin crawl in jealousy. 

It had you on a date…with the stunning and funny Aubrey Plaza. 

Maya felt nauseous, ready to throw up her Hailey Beiber 20 dollar strawberry smoothie. But Maya read the whole article. And then she saw Aubrey had taken you to a famous bookstore in L.A. Maya screenshotted every photo…you laughing as Aubrey touched your cheek gently. And after she zoomed in on your face, Maya moved down to see the book you had bought. 

She threw the phone onto her sofa and wondered if she needed to smash all her crystal wear in the L.A mansion. 

Maya sat on her sofa and bit her acrylic nail in anger. Before rolling her eyes and getting into her expensive Benz. Driving an hour and a half to the stupid book store across town. She walked up to the pimply teenager and asked for the book. 

“Do you have Gone with The Wind?” She growled and he gulped obviously intimated by her screaming at him. But ne nodded and ran across the store to get it. 

That’s how it started. Your little book club together. Not that you knew what Maya was doing. But Maya liked to imagine you were trying to communicate via all these books. 

She read; Mrs. Dalloway, Their Eyes Were Watching God, A Raisin in The Sun, Camilla, Giovani’s Room, Carol, and so many more.  

Maya kept sending you expensive sentiment, understanding that you couldn’t be bought. But unsure of how else to get to you.. and you in turn.. kept ignoring her.

 For a whole month you worked on the filmset, but Maya steered clear of you on the lot.  She knew she needed to hatch a better plan. This wasn’t the way to your heart. 

Yet every weekend Maya would lose her mind all over again. 

You were photographed with Aubrey Plaza the most you two seemed to love going to record stores, bunch places, and book stores. Frequenting even once a sex toy store. It was enough that it made Maya throw a retro Versace vase across her foye. It shattered into a million pieces and Maya still felt like she wanted blood. 

 But it wasn’t just Aubrey, you were photographed with; Sandra Bullock, Marisa Tomei, and Anne Hathaway. It was ridiculous. 

 All brunette, all powerful and strong women, all 40 and over. You liked women older than you… Woman who held power and intellect. 

 Maya felt like you were taunting her. But you always had a book in your hand as you went on lunch outings and late night drinks. 

Paparazzi followed you like dirty hound dogs sniffing a scent. They called you ridiculous names ‘ Little Lady Ephron,’ Shakespeare Secret Harlot, Bridgett Jones’s Slutty Muse, Lesbian Bradshaw, Gary Marshall’s Concubine.’  And Maya ate up every article they made.

Maya needed to know more about you.

Everytime a new story released she’d buy the book you had in your hand in the photo. She’d read it in a day, unable to put them down.. and then one slow night she went into her theater room. No new TMZ story about you this weekend, no new book, so she’d been bored. 

And Tik Tok felt like it no longer held Maya’s attention. 

Opening the Instagram app she looked your name up and found no account, of course. Sighing she threw the phone down and picked up the remote.  

Maya couldn’t even remember the decision, but she rented every singel movie you’d ever made. She watched them all over the course of a  week. Maya was ashamed to say she cried and laughed and felt like she’d been on a rollercoaster. But every film she watched, Maya found herself even more in love with you. Not just your beauty in those TMZ photos, not your great choice in books. 

But the way your mind told a story. 

The way you wrote about humanity and two people finding solace in one another. 

‘The Queen of Yearning’ now that made sense for you, that’s what your fans said. And Maya found that she hung on every word you wrote for your films. 

So two months in Maya was about to call the florist to do your daily flowers to be sent to your side of the lot.. when she hung up. Instead opening her laptop in her office she decided on a different present. 

Maya felt like after watching all of your movies, and reading your weekly book recommendations…Maybe it was time to send you one of her favorite books.

So when Maya left that night she opened her designer bag to get her keys she really wasn’t expecting you to yell at her. 

“MASON!” 

She jumped and turned around. 

You were holding the book up, like this was Hamilton and it was the Reynolds Pamphlet. It was dramatic to say the least and Maya realized how much she missed you. 

Maya was famous for being big and dramatic, it was fun to see you do it too. Even though Maya was clear you didn’t like that fact about yourself.  

“The fuck is this?” You say and you walk across the lot, your black boots clicking on hot L.A cement. Maya had to admit, the whole of Hollywood thought you were this big mush. Timid and romantic obsessed, completely without bite. You wrote all these big love declaration scenes. And yet to Maya you were like a fucking rotwiller. She’d never met anyone with more layers, it was intoxicating. 

You stalked forward and pushed the novel against her chest. Maya grabbed it and flipped it over, already knowing what she’d done. 

“Well, it’s a book Austen.” Maya hadn’t called you baby or sweetie this time. Remembering the look she’d received last time. 

“What did you call me?” You glare raising your voice at her like she’s mocking you now. A few people on the lot turn to stare. 

Maya could care less, she’d not gotten to talk to you in two months. 

“Oh yeah, you got a new nickname. You are the new Jane Austen. Pretty big praise, you do that yearning thing like Pride and Prejudice. Which is a little wrong, since you don’t do time pieces. Not much for the sandals and horses as Rebecca Ferguson calls it. But the marketing team heard it from TMZ. So it caught on.” Maya says and she’s not answering your question. 

“So you gave me another shitty nickname? Thanks I guess?” You shake your head and Maya eyes you curiously. Something seemed off about this exchange, not that she had many to go off of. But you seemed more frantic then the first verbal game of chess you two had played. Maya made a calculated move to not scare you away. She lowered her voice and didn’t push as hard back as she’d wanted to.

“You refuse to call me Maya, so I guess we both get nicknames.” She says it with no real challenge in her voice and you can’t figure her out as you stare at her. Maya keeps holding the green novel. You point at it. 

“The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, why did you send me this book?” You ask. 

“I figured you’d read all the old classics. I thought…you might like that..It’s my favorite well one of my favorites. I like the long yearning in it.. like your movies. But there’s something beautiful about loving someone and just…Being so..devoted? I mean there’s also that toxic hollywood shit we deal with on a day in day out, which is written well in this.” Maya says and you look at her like she’s grown another head. 

This wasn’t Maya Mason. Maya threw shit at assistants, she did coke off of Miley Cyrus once. Maya was feirce and gorgeous yes, but no one had ever seen her read a romantic anything..You were so confused and then the reminder that this was all fake hit you. 

“What is this, some game to you? You couldn’t get into my pants with the flowers so you what?”

“Holy shit Austen is it your favorite book too?” Maya was not stupid, and you had to admit that. Even if it hurt you. You tried to shield your emotions from her. 

You’d been trying to get the rights to the book so you could screen play it and make it into a fucking movie for the past four years. 

But you couldn’t say that. 

You looked at Maya Mason for a second, fuck she was gorgeous. 

You had to fake it with so many people in Hollywood. You didn’t ever fake your disgust with Maya, and that was kinda nice. But you wouldn’t do this with her. So you bit your bottom lip and made up your mind. You point at her putting your walls up high. 

“Mason, leave me alone. I’m not another notch in your belt, or something for you to brag to Sal and Quinn about. You don’t get to fuck me up on drugs and then fuck me in front of your shitty friends or some shit. I’m not a toy! Ok, you don’t-” You say and Maya looks genuinely concerned that you thought of that. Wondering if that happened to you. And you can’t stand her concern. 

Let her be Maya again, let her say the crude thing. Let her throw her power around, don’t have her look at you like you matter. That is too much to take. 

“Hey, woah. I’m not trying to do that. I just want you to let me buy you dinner. You seem to think you have me all figured out but..Who did that to you? I swear they’ll never work in this town again..you tell me the name and it’s done!” Maya scowled in anger at the very idea of it. You throw your hands up to stop her and she doesn’t want to drop it but she listens for now. 

“Mason, is that really your favorite book or is this some kinda sick thing you figured out about me? You pay my ex or stalk me or something?” You try to think of all the worst case scenarios now. 

“Damn, who the fuck did this to you. You write the most amazing love stories…did all of that happen? Or are you..are you really are afraid of love?” Maya asks and your body flinches and she wishes she could take it back instantly. Maya had never spoken to anyone this way and it felt foreign, but the horror on your face says she’s done it wrong. This was not how intimacy worked for you evidently…Maya had just learned what intimacy was, and it was new for her too.

“Fuck you!” You shout, turning around and Maya panics and she shouts after you. 

““You do not know how fast you have been running, how hard you have been working, how truly exhausted you are, until somewhat stands behind you and says, “It’s OK, you can fall down now. I’ll catch you.”” 

Maya looks around at a few people staring at her, but she doesn’t care. It’s not something she’d say to anyone, ever. But she quotes the book in the hopes you’ll come back. 

Two months of wanting to talk to you was hard, Maya did like instant gratification.  

You stop and Maya waits, afraid if she approaches you you’ll run. 

But you surprise her by turning around and walking back to her. 

“Maya, just forget about me. I’m nothing special. I write all this crap. But that’s where it ends ok?” The head of marketing loves her name on your tongue, but she hates what you are saying. 

“You can’t mean that. You are lying. You are so talented. No one can write that and then…then believe..” Maya says and you both let the thought sit there. You clench your fists and Maya wonders why you don’t believe her. 

“Goodnight.” You whisper and then leave her standing there in all her sexy designer glory. 

Maya opens the book to the front page, where she’d wrote the note this morning. Her fingers trace over the letters before she sighs and throws the book into her bag. 

Going to her car she blasts her bad ass boss playlist. She curses as the song ‘INTIMACY ISSUES’  plays. Finger hovering over the next button.  

Always on the low

'Til I'm with a guy

Distracting my mind

Hope they do not mind

I need to get high

So I put a record on

Then I roll

Then I smoke

I just need someone who listens

I just need somebody close

Keep it simple

Keep it sweet

I won't be that girl you need

'Cause I'll be writing love letters

'Til my fucking wrists bleed, oh

High off nicotine

While they're asking about my dreams

Don't remember, don't remember

I've been smoking too much weed, oh

I don't want the intimacy, ooh

Don't lie to my face and tell me you will never leave, ooh

Please, I don't want the intimacy 

Maya screams at the top of her lungs and slams her strong palms against her steering wheel over and over. Turning off the stupid song and then speeds off cutting people off in traffic. 

______________________________________________________ 

Maya see’s you three nights later at a big party, it’s not where she’d expect you. You were obviously there to rub elbows with the rest of the big wigs. And Maya saw that look again, the one that made her so curious about you in the first place. 

You had leaned over the bar, top of your breasts on display. Your ​​cleavage was a sight.

 You held a twenty between your fingers and asked for a drink and your face fell to the side, and then Maya was caught staring. You found her familiar gaze, more of a comfort than you’d expected and you scanned her outfit for a minute, before you nodded once. A small nod, but it was better than Maya had gotten from you…well ever. 

Maya wonders if this is her shot, her chance to talk to you, really talk. Tell you how she feels.  

The bartender handed you a strong drink and you melted back into the party before Maya could cut through the crowd and say hi. 

A few hours pass and she doesn’t see you again. 

Maya was talking to another studio exec when she heard someone yell and then a streak of your hair comes into view as  you shove a tall man roughly against a wall away from you. The jackass crashes into one of the ugly modern paintings that line this expensive mansion. 

He curses at you ‘Fucking cunt! You write all that crap because no one wants to fuck you!” 

It’s not unique, and you don’t care about him or the people watching at this moment. 

You just laugh manicly and look down at your now ripped dress, what a prince charming this guy was. 

But Maya didn’t need to see another second of this show.  

She didn’t even politely excuse herself, she pushed her martini into Matt’s hands and rounded to where you were. 

But the guy didn’t take your shove as the final act of this show.  

The upcoming Netflix special starring actor had the nerve to lunge at you, upset at being embaressed.

 Maya was faster though, she kneed him in the balls and he cried out and fell over. Grabbing his genitals like they might have just burst, Maya hoped they had. 

 She stood over him with her sharp heels and killer outfit. His perfect curls falling into his face as tears formed in his eyes, his perfect jawline was next to Maya’s heel. And she stopped herself from putting her shoe on his face, leaving that pretty indent of her stiletto heel against his sculpted cheeks.

 Flicking her hair over her shoulder. The music scratched and everyone got quiet.

A Maya fight was always a fun thing at a party, talked about for years after. Even though it happened more often than not. 

“YOU BITCH!” The actor who’s name Maya couldn’t place wheezed. But she bent down and let the toe of her heel move under his chin so he was looking up at her. 

You were watching, everyone was watching.  

“You limp dick-nepo baby bastard, your whore mother should have swallowed you and done this town a favor. You just ended your career pretty boy. Not even Daddy can bail you out now. Don’t ever come near her again.” Maya spits and it hits his face as he is holding his crotch in pain. 

You tried not to get turned on at the sight, honest you did. 

But you were brought back to reality as a flash went off in your face.  

People took photos on their smart phones like they couldn’t wait to post it. Keanu Reeves clapped and shouted ‘Go Maya!’ 

But Maya didn’t care as people got excited, she saw your look of displeasure, of horror at all the attention. And then you ran out of there and Maya was fast on your trail.

Maya heard Lisa Ann Walter call your name to stop you, but Maya was sprinting after you.  

You got to the back of the house, and you felt anxiety spike so hard in your body. Maya fell out of the door of the party after you. You turned and cursed yourself. 

You’d just made another TMZ article, you were so ashamed. You wanted to behave but you just couldn’t it seemed. 

You look behind you to see Maya and she was gorgeous, her outfit, her hair, her make up. You thought of her shoes on the stupid assholes face.

 It was all perfect, but that wasn’t what was the worst. It was the fact that Maya was so unapologetically Maya. 

You craved her. You wanted to fall to your knees and eat her out right here. 

But the reminder of all those people and your career taking another beating made you panic once more.  

“Hey, take a breath Austen.” She says and you shake your head and pull at your once perfectly styled  hair. Maya steps forward and you take a step back. You hated being touched when you were upset. It was a stupid movie trope to hold the girl as she was angry. If Maya touched you right now you’d give her a black eye. And Maya seemed to figure that out fast.

“Easy, I’m not gonna touch you. I’m not gonna hurt you. Just..put your hands over your head. It opens the airways. Ok, no one’s gonna come up here. Look! Look!” Maya says and she walks over to the door you both came out. She easily lifts the giant planter with a huge palm and she props it against the door with a thud. You are impressed by how strong she is. But you don’t let yourself analyze why you are looking at her gorgeous arms flex. 

Maya puts her hands up like you are holding a gun to her. 

“Just me and you Austen. Take a breath, no one to fake it for. You don’t need to pretend right now.” She tells you and you lean over and put your hands on your knees. Feeling the room is spinning before you listen to Maya. Placing your hands over your head, standing tall, and closing your eyes to take a breath. 

“Good girl, keep breathing.” Maya says and your body shivers at the praise. And Maya saw it, but she doesn’t throw it in your face, or make a sexual joke at you. She just watches you and you want to hate her, but it’s hard right now to. If you were honest you never disliked Maya. 

But as soon as you think it you have to lash out. You can’t like Maya. You need to put space between her and you. 

“I didn’t need you to fight my battles. I’m not into that..White knight shit. I’m not in need of saving. I don’t know how many Taylor Swift songs you listened to in the 2008, but I don’t need your help.” You snarl and Maya laughs. She likes how creative you are with your cuts. But she doesn’t want you to focus on that right. So she drops her hands and gives you a gentle gaze. Her voice is soft and sinful, and you try not to find comfort in any part of Maya Mason.  

“Why don’t we just table you despising me until your panic attack passes, eh? Then I can be the bad guy again.” Maya teases but she’s smiling and you smile at her now. Damn it. Fuck Maya Mason! 

You get further down the spiral of anger at your own girly statement;

“You stopped sending flowers.” You want to slap yourself for saying it and Maya fishes into her pocket a gold cigarett case, it snaps open, and her manicured fingers pinch a rather large blunt. Maya let’s that sentence sit for a moment, putting the blunt between her dark red lips. She eyes you and you use all your will power to not look at her lips, really you do.

She swaps out the case for a lighter, you see words on it but you can’t make it out without your glasses. 

Maya lights her drug of choice with the sentimental family arloom lighter, then snaps it closes. She takes a hit and then fingers the joint like she’s Cruella or something, it’s full of power, it’s gangster and feminine. It makes her look like the ultimate siren. Maya is dripping with confidence and sexual power. 

And yet Maya doesn’t feel like that right now. But to you, fuck, you couldn’t write or instruct an actor to get close to the ease in which Maya had you aroused from just lighting a joint and smoking.  

You never had seen anyone smoke in such an erotic way. 

Maya rubs her forehead with the finger holding the joint and then answers.

“You didn’t like the flowers I thought, or the presents.” She says and you reach your hand out and Maya is quick, handing you the blunt wordlessly. She was a little taken aback, but she doesn’t show it. Maya wants you to feel comfortable around her, she wants to get to know you. Fuck she wants to marry you. And if Maya makes comments or a face to make you self conscious she’s afraid that she’ll scare you away. 

You take a drag and hold it in your lungs, handing the dark joint back. Maya seems entertained by you, but she doesn’t break your moment to dwell on this. Maya tries not to think about how her lips are about to touch the same spot yours were just warming. 

She feels like a lovesick teenager just entertaining the idea.  

The song plays inside the party and it has a sinister low bass and you can hear the lyrics. It’s ‘Such a Whore’ remix by JVLA.

You're such a whore, I need her

When she's one me I don't feel so lonely

Don't leave me horny

Ride me like a pony

Her sweat, her moaning

She's just such a fucking whore, i love it

I just fuck her on the side

When she's pinched for me on light

For that pussy I would die 

You feel like Maya isn’t listening to the song, she probably can’t even hear it, but it’s making you feel like this is a scene in a movie.  To be next to her, this close, as those lyrics play. But Maya doesn’t let you keep listening to the lyrics. Doesn’t let you write your next story in her presence. 

“I didn’t stop sending you things all together.” She points the joint at you before bringing it to her mouth and taking a hit again and you, in response, let the smoke out slowly. Unable to hold your breath any longer. 

“Four Weddings and a Funeral, No Reservations, You’ve Got Mail …I’m sensing a theme.” You don’t mean for it to come out as flirty as it does. But Maya just seems to feel smug, like she won a prize or something. 

Maya figured you’d seen them all before, but it was a theme she was going for. 

“Yeah, you need to start writing more queer romance. Because there’s so much straight stuff.” Maya teases and then takes a hit holding it and passing the blunt to you. You inhale too, and hold it. Before looking behind you to see if anyone else can see you two smoking outside of this expensive actor’s party…or was it a Studio Exec? 

Maya let’s the smoke billow out of her mouth like a dragon. Before you jump to fill the gap in the silence.  

“Two people not compatible at first, one even not liking the other. Then..one person… giving them a chance…Kids these days call it ‘enemies to lovers trope. Though it could be argued four weddings and a funeral doesn’t fit that.” You say, calling Maya out. But she let’s her fingers brush against yours for longer than she needs.

Your breath hitches as the warm pads of her fingers graze your knuckles and then down to the ends of your black fingernails, she let’s them stay for a moment longer.

Before taking the joint out of your grip. Maya flicks the ash onto the lavish backyard patio. You wonder if she’s ever used an ash tray, or if she’d just put her spliff out on gorgeous models tongues. 

The idea of it was so hard to push away, you were angry at your over active imagination. And why the idea turned you on so much. 

Maya was watching you have an internal battle, and she would kill to know what you were thinking. Not just a saying in this moment, she had family in the Mafia, she’d do it. 

But Maya let the doobie sit in between her fingers as she eyed it to see if the cherry had gone out. But the head of Marketing spoke to you as she fiddled with her lighter in her pocket again. 

“Hmm, you know I like how you write all of that yearning. Your fandom really enjoys it too. The focus groups and first teaser trailer proves they’d watch you read a Take out Menu, as long as it was you. You have a way with words…A way with setting a scene.” Maya’s compliments don’t touch your skin, they don’t sink into your low confidence riddled mind. You are a tortured artist, just like every other waiter in this cursed town. So you focus on the interesting thing she’d said in that. 

“You watched my movies?” You weren’t sure why that was so off brand for Maya. Not Maya coded at all. Maya puts the half smoked blunt inbetween her lipstick stained lips and uses one hand to block the Santa Ana winds. You think of ‘The Holiday’ with Jack Black being a gentlemen and helping Kate Winslet get the eyelash out of her eye. You try not to feel like you are in a movie again, try not to feel like love is at all possible, as you watch Maya take her engraved lighter and cup one hand to block the wind.

It blows from both sides now and her flame goes out. 

Her manicured nails don’t get in the way as her thumb strikes the wheel to make another flame. You hate yourself for leaning in and cupping your hand to help her.

The memory of her breath against your ear the first day comes crashing in. You try to school your features.  

Maya’s eyes gaze up at you now, she’s taller by a few inches normally. But you had higher heels on tonight, and she’s bent just enough to block the windy night. So looking up at you through her dark lashes feels too intimate. 

But she doesn’t torture you, she lights the end of her blunt. And inhales, you step back and she flips the lighter closed. Breathing out before pinching the paper and handing it to you once more. 

“Is that so shocking?” She says and you feel stupid. 

You had made so many assumptions about the head of Studio Marketing. It felt jaded and childish now. You were a queer writer, you were never supposed to come to L.A and make movies. You wanted to write novels. Somehow you were writing straight love stories. 

You weren’t supposed to be here. And people made grand assumptions about you all day. How you could fall into the same trap with Maya was now a little embarrassing. 

You didn’t know Maya Mason. And it was becoming very clear, that you’d written her off quickly for the wrong reasons. 

You shouldn’t have assumed she was just a player with no brains. Maya had proved to be different in every way. You read every note she sent in those flowers and you were quickly discovering from her desire to send you a movie every day….that Maya didn’t give up easily. She was driven in more than just her work, and she was so fucking smart. 

You should have pushed her away because her blue eyes could only mean you falling into her, and that couldn’t happen. 

You warrded off love, and you meant it. 

Never again would you fall, never again would you give up your power. No, love and war were the same and you had no intention of bleeding again. 

Maya was off the menu.

“Just doesn’t seem like you’d be the type to sit it and watch people fall head over heels for each other. Just figured you weren’t into romcoms. I figured you were more of a…trashy reality TV girl.” You can’t apologize and tell her you realize you’d been wrong. You keep up the lie. Keep the words hoping they sting. 

‘Fall out of interest with me, I’m not worth this..’ You hope the remarks will do that. 

Maya watches your lips as you take the quick burning joint.

She curses the paper for burning too fast. Not ready to go back in, not wanting this moment with you to end. How could she talk you into getting out of here? Going to a local restaurant and sit with her. Talk until the early hours of the morning, Maya wished. 

“You don’t know me. And everyone wants that, that one person who see’s them. I don’t think that desire has a ‘type’ of audience. Everyone wants to be wanted, to be chosen in a crowd of people. To be taken home and grow old with someone. That’s just…perfect.” Maya says as she looks off into the distance. And you can see the hollywood sign in the expensive home.

The light bleeds against the dark backdrop, it would have made you feel dreamy the first month you’d been in L.A. When you believed this was the land of Angels, where people made history with their art. What a kid you’d been.

But time had made you mean and now it was just a sign on a hill. Just like the 405 highway. Nothing special as you saw it. 

The color bled into the night like water colors becoming blurry on a canvas. 

It was fake, just like everything and everyone in Hollywood. 

But as you gazed at Maya you had to admit; 

“You aren’t what I expected.” You wished you hadn’t shown your hand. Your cards felt bare on the table now. You hand her the blunt and stare at her hand instead. But Maya whispers and looks at you. 

“Yeah, I suppose I’m not. But did you really think I was going to be… on…be like I am in the studio..All the time? You don’t think I put my feet up on a sunday, have a relax button? Don’t think I can chill?”

You think for a moment, before bursting into a fit of laughter. 

“Fuck no!” You say dramatically and Maya laughs along, glad you get her brand of humor. Realizing you two had a lot more in common than Maya could have ever dreamt of. 

And Maya’s sides hurt as she laughed. 

“No, I really don’t. I am a lot, all the time. I actually threw an iced mocha at a producer an hour before I had to come here. Pretty sure he was wearing a vintage Armani suit too.” Maya cackles and you laugh too. Fuck it felt good to not fake a laugh too, but to actually laugh. To be naughty and enjoy a bad joke, someone somewhere would get angry at you for not being kind to the poor producer, but not Maya.  

When you both caught your breath, Maya looked at the ends of her joint. 

Time was up.

“It’s not so bad,” You whisper looking down at the end of your pot. 

You felt a little floaty, but you’d smoked enough in your time here in California to know one joint wouldn’t do it. 

“The weed? Yeah I picked it up so it’s fresh roll.” Maya says and you wonder if she’s being obtuse on purpose. As she flicks it into the big planter pot she’d used to barricade the door. 

“No, being authentically yourself. Unapologetically crude and say what you mean and do what you want. Seems like it would be pretty..freeing.” You uncover a secret in the space between you and the gorgeous woman and Maya thinks about this. Eyeing the sign, the lack of anyone around, and then you once again. 

Like she’s deciding, and you are curious what goes on in her mind. 

“It is, that is until you lose someone important from your reputation.”

It feels like a declaration of love. And you almost want to be annoyed you hadn’t written it for a character in your storys. Because it was fucking good. 

You both stared at one another, and you wondered if Maya would close the distance and kiss you. But she didn’t. And that made you want her to more.  

“Thank you for what you did in there…” You point to the door with your thumb. 

“I thought I was being toxic and saving you?” Maya’s eyebrow raises but her face is playful. 

“I didn’t need your help…but it was nice to have someone in my corner..” You give her the insight. And now you really wish you would stop talking. Or better yet, be rude again. Because this was all too….romantic. 

“Where’s Aubrey or Sandy? Not very gentlemanly to leave you.” Maya says and she realizes that she ruined your shared moment. But it’s too late to hit delete. Not a text she can unsend. 

Your face sours and Maya opens her mouth to say words. Any words to have you look at her like you had a moment ago. But your walls slide back up so fast. 

“What are you talking about? I didn’t bring a date. Oh, I see. You read that TMZ shit, you think I’m such a slut. That I’m going out every weekend with actresses older than me and fucking them, is that it? Jesus, I don’t know what I was thinking. You are just like the rest. Not that I care what the fuck you think, or anyone else. But those women are my friends. They’re strong and smart and-forget it! If I wanted to have a fucking orgy in George Clooney’s summer home with Viola Davis and Helen Mirren fucking me with their straps at the same time! It would be my business, not anyone elses! ” You say and Maya yells your name as you push past her and kick the big heavy planter, your shoe holds up. But the planter breaks and you step over the dirt and roots of the tree. 

You throw open the door and go back into the party so you can get your keys and leave. 

Maya tries to catch you but you are gone. 

____________________

Maya doesn’t apologize.

She wan’t raised to. No one in her family had ever taught her how to, in fact. 

So she isn’t sure how to say sorry. But she knew she regretted how things ended that night. And she still was desperate for your company. Even if you never believed her, she just wanted to talk to you.

Maya was in love, already so far gone, and it was embarrassing. If Maya did get embarrassed by feelings, which she didn’t. 

So on Monday she opened another browser on her computer and ordered a book again. Hoping it would get you to talk to her, even if it was just to throw it in her face.

So three hours later when she was taking a meeting with Patty and Sal and you threw the door of her office open. She was relieved, not upset. 

Maya’s assistant was trying to stop you but she shushed him. 

“The fuck is this?” You held up Viola Davis’s memoire. But then you saw Sal and Patty and your face paled. 

“We’ll leave, this seems like a couples thing.” Sal says and you open your mouth to say that you aren’t dating Maya. But you can’t find it in yourself to correct him.

So when Patty lightly pats Maya’s shoulder like an understanding friend. Who is very aware that she’s gonna sleep on the sofa you wonder if the whole studio believes you two are actually dating. 

Maya closes the door and then puts her hand out for the sofa. 

You don’t want to give her the pleasure of being obedient. So you throw the book at her and Maya ducks. Not catching it as it hits the wall. 

“I take it you aren’t one for memoirs then?” Maya teases and the vein in your neck pops out. Maya eyes it and wonders how you taste. She wonders if she licks that vein, what noises she’ll get in return. 

“I don’t get the game you are playing. But I mean it, I’m not interested.” You say and Maya feels like she knows you well enough in this moment to know you don’t actually mean it. Your voice just doesn’t hold the same venom now. 

“Did you read it?” Maya asked and you ground your jaw. 

“Yes, Viola Davis is amazing, I thought it was very well written and very moving. Why did you send it?” You say and then wonder why the fuck you are still in her office, with the door closed. Alone with Maya Mason. 

“You left the party before I could talk to you again..and you said that thing about double penetration with Viola Davis. So…it was my way of…I wanted to…” Maya trailed off and you both look at each other with such intensity. 

But Maya’s door is opened and Matt is holding up a report on marketing that he’d printed out. He’s holding it up and then he eyes you across the room. 

Maya grabs the cup full of pens off her desk and chucks it at Matt’s head. He curses as it hits him in the face. Wow, she had great aim.

Blood quickly squirts out of Matt’s nose like he’s a pierced Capri Sun. He cups his face and drops the pages and they go fluttering to the floor. 

“MAYA WHAT THE FUCK! OW! I’M BLEEDING!” 

Wow Matt bleeds a lot, is he on blood thinners you wonder. Realizing Matt is an only child, because he couldn’t take a hit. You however had brothers, and you learned how to take a punch by the age of seven. You realize you should help your boss…or feel bad?

“HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF KNOCKING? GET OUT! GET OUT!” Maya screams and you try not to laugh as she goes feral. This was the Maya you’d heard so much about. Short tempered and unpredictable, ready to set someone on fire if they got her coffee order wrong.

Not the gentle looks you’d been receiving, book club conversations, white knight, and romcom hobbyist. You kinda liked watching this actually. Maya wasn’t just prince charming, she was…well Maya Mason. Not a fucking nail unbedazzled or wrinkle in her outfit as she wounded the head of the studio. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle as Matt used his hideous tie to dab at his now bleeding nose. But he turns out of the office and his tie and shirt have giant blood stains on them. 

Maya walks after him and you wonder if she’s going to apologize but she slams the door.

You can’t help but make a joke.  

“I didn’t knock either, is that what happens if I don’t knock next time?” You tease, knowing you should feel bad for enjoying this so much. Matt was innocent and didn’t deserve it, but it was hilarious. 

“No, I like you. I want to go out with you. Fuck I’m trying to woo you here! Besides don’t pity the twat. This is far from the first time I’ve told Matt to respect the closed door. And if I’m in the middle of a meeting and my door is closed you just…open it. Come in, okay Austen?” Maya says and her hair is a little wilder than before. You wonder if she even realized how honest she was being. 

“Okay.” You say the word slowly, like you are trying to process all of that. And you don’t know why you feel like you are going to blush. 

“Okay.” Maya repeats she takes in the sight of you, your outfit makes her want you. The hair not in your ponytail is begging to be placed behind your ear. 

You both stare at each other and you walk around her desk  to pick up the thrown book. You are extremely aware that Maya is staring at your ass as you bend over. But it doesn’t piss you off how you’d like it to. It feels like flattery, which makes you feel like a stupid teenager. 

After you pick up the book you make your way to the door and Maya goes to grab your wrist, to stop you but you throw open the door and walk out. Your signature black boots clicking on the marble floor.  

“Are you free tonight? I’ll take you to that new sushi place on Sunset!” Maya yells for the whole floor to hear. You flip her the bird from behind, you but don’t turn around. 

“Not happening Mason!”

Maya smiles as she watches you put a little more sway into your hips. But her phone starts to ring and she knows it’s HR. She’s going to get another complaint filed against her and she rolls her eyes but goes to answer it. 

_______________

The next day Maya is at Matt’s house for a party. She looks all over for you, but doesn’t find her gorgeous and tortured Jane Austen sitting in a corner surrounded by pretty Mommy actresses.

Maya tries not to pout as she goes over to her group of executives. Knowing she’s here on business. Not wanting to spend time at the lame venue longer than needed. 

Patty gives her a shitty mixed drink that Matt is serving. There’s a theme to the party but it got lost somewhere. Maya takes a sip and tastes vanilla vodka and Malibu rum with a little bit of pineapple juice. It’s fucking gross.

But Maya sees the alternative is what Patty is drinking. 

Which is a play on Sangria..only for some reason it’s 75 percent fruit in her glass. And she keeps spitting out chunks of rancid mushy old fruit into a napkin. 

Sal is high as fuck. Matt is trying to get anyone around him to get Zoe Kravitz to come to his party. From the looks of it, everyone at the party either works for the studio. Or is a B level celebrity. 

Maya thought she’d seen Luke Wilson but it was actually the Wilson’s youngest cousin. It was a pitiful party and Maya was counting down the minutes until she could leave.

“Patty I’ll give you a fucking raise if you get Kravitz here!” Matt tried and then eyed Maya.

“Where is your girlfriend? Can you call her? We need a big name!” He says and Maya has seen this look from him before. It’s that desperate need for be cool to others, it’s nasty to be around. 

“Haven’t you heard, Maya can’t get a date! So it it just sex then?” Quinn asks coming out of nowhere and Patty and Maya both grimace at her drunken state. 

“Of course it’s not just sex! Maya is in love. And our young Austen is the queen of romance. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were already picking out vacation homes. You guys u-haul it last weekend?” Patty jokes but everyone belies it as the truth.

Maya sips her gross drink before putting it onto a passing survey’s tray to get rid of it.

“Matt I’m sure someone will show eventually.” Maya says not willing to tell the reality of her love life, she wanted what they said to be the truth. 

“You really believe that? You think your girl will show?” Matt said excited and Maya smirked.

“Of course not. But HR said I can’t make you cry again this quarter without getting a pay cut.” Maya said and the whole group laughed, except Matt who checked his phone again.

“Patty don’t you have Al Pacino’s number from when you used to give him blow jobs?” Matt asks and Patty is chewing a grape from her weird drink. She chuckles at the memory.

“He’s 85 Matty. You want a repeat of Vegas? You wanna see if you can kill him with mushrooms.” She taunts and everyone finds that entertaining. 

Maya can’t help but chuckle with the group at that memory. 

“Why didn’t you ask me? I’m your best friend!” Sal said and he takes Pattys drink and throws it on his chest.

Yeah he was really high. Patty just looks relieved she doesn’t need to keep eating the fruit salad.

“You don’t have anyone’s phone number. You once told me you were fucking Brie Larson. You are a liar!” Quinn said and Patty looked at her concerned that she may have got her drink spiked. She was sweating and being very blunt. 

“She knows we got to second base! Besides; I have everyone’s phone number. I got Brad’s Pitt’s phone number and even Anthony Hopkins Fax number!” Sal brags and opens a small container of cocaine.

He looks around for a surface and then goes to the bar.

Maya arches an eyebrow and makes her move;  she corners him at the end of the bar as he pulls out a rolled up fifty to use to snort.

“Sal, I need a phone number.”

He leans down and does his line before using his finger to rub the excess on his gums. 

He eyes Maya for a minute like she’s a unicorn before realizing what she’s saying.

“Your girlfriend need to get in touch with Sally Fields. Get it cuz you both are old and have dark hair? She has a type!” He jokes and Maya tries to remain non homicidal to him. 

“Will you get me Austen’s phone number?”

“You don’t have your own girls number? Oh shit is she such a romcom queen you gotta like..send her letters or something? Or oh, did you get in trouble again and she changed it! That would suck! Is that why everyone said she won’t go out to eat with you?”

Maya focused on box breathing. Sal had already decided on the idea of payment as she tried not to set him on fire with her lighter.

“Wow, Maya. I wonder what I want.” He pulled the coke out again and put it on the glass bar.

Maya was planning his demise, and her alibi. But she focused on counting down from five trying to not reach across and slap the phone out of his hand and then take out his eye with one of the appetizer toothpicks. 

Sal got an idea before doing another line, holding up his finger like he found the holy grail. Maya was sure he wasn’t Harrison Ford and he had not.

“Ooh how about like a blank check as they used to say in old Hollywood?. I want you to owe me a favor!” Sal says through his coked out mind and Maya doesn’t like that. She grew up around the mafia, she knew better. 

Maya leaned in and took her phone out. She used the passcode on one of her secret apps. Sal’s face fell as he looked at the screen.

“How about this? You give me her number or I’ll show the entire party the video of you getting a golden shower at Angela Lansbury’s Easter party from Bette Midler and Mark Warburg. How does that sound? I believe I saw a projector in the main room, I can’t wait to tell everyone it’s movie time! Do you thing we can connect the Bose speakers?” Maya taunts and her face is so excited and Sal is shaking his head. But her finger hovers of the play button.

“Fuck no! I opened my mouth the whole time…Please ok I’m sorry! Fuck I didn’t know you had that! You are so scary! Jesus!” Sal grabs his phone out of his tux jacket and scrolls. He reads the digits out and Maya quickly adds them to her phone.

Sal runs away and Maya grabs the drink he ordered and downs it in two gulps. Phone sitting in her manicured nails like a sacred prize of war. 

__

To be continued. ...