The Actress

I'm sure you do... Do they have anything to do with hitting on famous people in the supermarket? With hitting on me?

"Okay, done. How do I pay?" She abruptly interrupted my flirt sequence. She pointed at the cart, which now only contained her handbag.

I showed her how to complete her check-out and looked away as she entered her pin. This was it; my extra time with her was up. It had been pleasant again, but nothing more than that. I felt a wave of despair coming over me. I had to try something else; I couldn't just let her walk out my life.

"Hey, can I ask you one more thing?"

Here we go. Well, I guess you have deserved a selfie after all your help. It's not your fault I failed to fly under the radar with my lack of life skills.

A shadow of annoyance crossed her face, not quite reaching the surface; she was too professional for that. It was quickly replaced by a polite smile.

"Sure," she said. No doubt she expected me to finally go into starstruck fan mode and she was ready to go through the usual spiel of gracefully accepting compliments, scribbling her autograph, politely excusing herself. Rehearsed to perfection, out of sheer necessity.

I kept telling myself that it wasn't about that. I wasn't just a fan; I would still be interested in her if she'd been my next-door neighbour or the person who delivered my post. But how could I convince her of that? I barely believed it myself. As I racked my brain, a solution slowly took shape. It was a simple idea but it could work. I hesitated, uncomfortable with the idea of keeping the truth from her, but I started to believe it was the only chance I had.

"What's your name?" I asked her, as casually as I could.

What do you mean? You know my name. You know who I am. That's why you're still talking to me, isn't it?

Now I had truly puzzled her, her expression growing more pensive. She looked at me for a moment, clearly not sure what to make of me.

"Are you serious?"

"What? Too much? Should I have gone with 'Can I buy you a drink?' instead? I have to tell you, it was a toss-up in my head. I realised too late I actually wanted to ask you two more things."

What are you waffling on about? Now you want to buy me a drink? I'm confused... You literally just met me. Do you think that just because you've seen me in a couple of movies, you know me?

Although, you just asked me my name, as if you have no idea who I am. You don't recognise me? You're just a random chatty person? I really can't tell now; how annoying. Oh hell, I can hardly do a "Don't you know who I am?!", can I? I'm just not diva enough for that.

She just looked at me with a baffled expression. I answered her questioning look with my most genuine expression - the one that said I was merely casually making conversation with a stranger in the supermarket.

"You want to buy me a drink?" She then asked incredulously.

I felt myself getting nervous under her scrutiny so I rambled on: "Well yes, I would like that. I thought it might be polite to ask your name first. Although that's clearly a hard limit for you... Which is a bit strange, if you ask me. But just the drink then?" I gave her an innocent smile.

You really have no clue who you're talking to, do you? I don't know how that's possible but it really seems that way... And now you want to go for a drink? What, like a date? You've got balls, I'll give you that.

She smiled, shaking her head in disbelief. "Do you always try to pick up people in the supermarket? And ones old enough to be your mother, for that matter!"

"It's a bit of an issue, actually. My therapist believes I may have been a shopkeeper in a previous life. You know, didn't get out much...," I improvised jokingly. I decided to let the age remark slide. Although she was technically right, she did not need any encouragement in thinking she was, or looked, old. She remarked on that in TV interviews too, but the truth was that she had only become more beautiful as she'd aged.

You are such a weirdo! A flattering, friendly weirdo; definitely the good kind, but a weirdo nonetheless.

She laughed, surprise and amusement battling for first place in her expression. "I think that therapist is no good..."

"He did say that going for a drink every now and then with a stranger I met in the supermarket could tremendously help my progress," I continued unperturbed, with a serious expression. Seeing her laugh was the best thing since sliced bread.

She laughed again wholeheartedly, showing a perfect row of white teeth and slightly throwing her head back, revealing a glimpse of her long, elegant neck.

You're quite pleased with yourself, aren't you? But in such a no-nonsense way. So different from those sleazy guys at the red carpet events, flocking to me because they know I'm single again. I must say that I like your style. But I have no idea who you are! And you may or may not know who I am. I can't just run off to the pub with you!

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said, still smiling.

"Are you sure? We may be the only two people in the whole town not in a pub right now..."

"Which is exactly why I am here instead," she mused, looking at the groceries in front of her. She was speaking more to herself than to me, it seemed.

Avoiding other people... I have been avoiding people for so long. At least, people who are not in the business. People that think they know me based on what they've read or seen. You seem different, that's true. But are you? I can't be sure.

She snapped out of her reverie and turned to me. "I really can't. I'm sorry." She leaned in to grab her handbag from the cart and turned away to take her grocery bags. I noticed a plastic bag with one apple in her cart, which had previously been obscured by her purse.

"Wait!" I called to her.

She turned round, looking more amused than annoyed. "You don't give up easily do you?"

I shrugged, faking nonchalance. "The drink thing? You don't want to, that's fine. Your loss."

Oh you're so cocky! Maybe it is my loss. I haven't had a drink in ages. But I wouldn't go out and have one with some weirdo I had just bumped into in the supermarket.

She laughed. "Then what it is?"

I pointed at the apple. "Were you planning on stealing that? If so, you're terribly bad at it. You're meant to take it with you. That's kind of the point of stealing."

She looked at the fruit as if it had appeared from nowhere, and then at her grocery bags, not immediately understanding why the apple was not in one of her bags.

"You wouldn't tell anyone, would you?" She grinned cheekily.

"I can't be an accomplice. I would have sleepless nights over that. Please let me get it for you. It's the least I can do. I would hate to see you throw your life away by slipping into crime." I looked at her earnestly.

You want to buy me an apple? You really are something else. Is this some new form of courting that you youngsters engage in? You can't be older than, what, 25? 30 at the very most? What am I supposed to do with this?

"What a strange girl you are," she mused with a bewildered expression.

'Flung out of space,' I completed in my head, a reply I couldn't possibly voice. "Compellingly odd?" I suggested instead. She laughed again, amusement colouring her smile and her eyes. I smiled back, now holding up the apple expectantly. I wasn't sure where I was going with this, but at least she was still here.

Compellingly odd? I guess you could say that. Compelling... yes... I've never had a woman flirting with me before. Or at least not that I've noticed. Is it always like this? This is actually quite... refreshing. But I'm not into women, so there's really no point in you flirting with me! It's not like this would go anywhere... sexy or romantic...

Oh dear, where is my mind going? Focus, woman! All you asked is if you can buy me an apple. That's not such a big deal, is it? Strange, for sure, but nothing major, I think. This isn't some youngster or lesbian code that I don't understand - being the dinosaur I am -, is it?

After what seemed like an eternity she said: "Fine." She paused and then added: "It saves me from having to do that whole techy thing again. And from descending into crime, of course."

I quickly weighed and paid for the apple and slipped it into one of her grocery bags. I reached for the bag she was about to pick up and allowed my fingers to brush past hers lightly. "Let me help you with your bags. They look heavy." She pulled back quickly and gave me an incredulous look.

So gallant! Is this where all the manners went, to the lesbians? Well sign me up; for the platonic stuff, that is.

She looked me up and down, trying to do so inconspicuously, but failing. I knew what she saw, but wondered what she thought about it. I was wearing my favourite pair of faded black loose-fitting jeans which ended messily half in and half out of my unlaced Converse. My zipped open leather jacket showed part of the science geek shirt I was wearing underneath. I wasn't even sure which one I was wearing today. I had so many, and I loved them all. I was looking scruffy. Had I known I was going to bump into her... Well, let's be honest, I usually ended up looking scruffy, no matter how hard I tried.

I caught her perusing my face. I knew my eyes were one of my best features. People commented on this a lot. They were large with long, dark lashes; they usually looked green but seemed to change colour slightly, sometimes appearing more blue or grey. I never wore make-up; I didn't like it and didn't think I - or any other woman, for that matter - needed it.

My dark-blond dreadlocks - my other defining feature and the one people remembered me by - were tied up in a scruffy bunch, as usual. I loved them. They were the first and only thing I'd ever done with my hair that actually suited me. All in all, I had no complaints about my looks - and I had met plenty of others who appreciated them - but I had no idea if it was something she was into. I could only hope.

And look at you, I guess you're quite cute too, in a very boyish, rough and tumble kind of way. From a purely aesthetic standpoint I mean, of course... Fine, you can help me with my bags. Just don't read anything into it!

"Okay, sure. That would be great. Thank you."

As I grabbed her bags, I tried to control my inner jubilations at the fact that she had agreed, even if it was just a humble start. We walked together to her car, a dark-blue family model. Like her current appearance, it seemed to have been chosen for its discretion.

"So, how about I buy you that drink now?" I asked, after she closed the boot. "I think we both deserve that after sacrificing part of our Friday evening to groceries."

Oh wow, so much for that being my loss. I certainly can't say you're not dedicated to your cause.

"Buying a bottle of wine and chocolate plus an apple for a stranger hardly constitutes doing groceries," she countered, giving me a wicked grin.

"Okay, fair enough. You deserve it then. I'll just come along for the company, even if it will be awkward because I won't know what to call you."

Oh that's right, I still haven't told you my name. And you really don't know it, do you? Or are you pulling my leg, testing what I will do?

Whichever it is, at least you're not acting all starstruck. You seem quite keen on just having normal conversations. Well, normal is a big word. You're clearly a bit strange... but also different, refreshingly so...

"You already got me an apple. I'd be too much in your debt."

"Hmmm... you got a point there. How about you buy me a drink then?"

She laughed. "You're really not going to let this go, are you?" I smiled and shrugged, maintaining my question with my silence.

It is tempting... I haven't been asked out for a drink in so long... I guess I haven't really been in situations where that could happen in a while. I have been saying I wanted a bit more normality. That's what this whole sabbatical thing was all about, well partly anyway. And here's a chance to do something any other normal person would be able to do: go out for a drink on a Friday night. No biggie!

Gosh, you really are starting to win me over here...

But I shouldn't, really... What if you are actually some creepy stalker and you're just pretending you don't know me? Or worse, a reporter looking for some juicy gossip. Please tell me you're not either of those things! You really don't seem like the type...

Surely I would be able to tell if you were just putting on a show here. I'm an actress, for god's sake; I see people acting all the time! And you just don't seem to be acting... If you are, I'll have to get you in touch with my agent because then you are brilliant...

"I have to get home, I've got the groceries in the car," she said feebly, after visibly weighing her options for what felt like ages.

Obviously I was aware of this fact, having put them there myself a moment earlier. I still remained silent, trying not to push or encourage her any further. I'd done more than enough of that and a smidgen more might sway her in the opposite direction. She had to figure this one out; silence was golden.

Say you are who you say you are, and you have no idea who I am... Then I guess it would be nice to have some uncomplicated company, for a change. You seem uncomplicated and certainly a good laugh.

And you're clearly interested in me for who I am, not for who you think I am, or the image of me you have in your head. Who knows why, if it isn't the star appeal?! Surely you can get plenty of girls your own age?

But I don't want to lead you on; that could get complicated quite easily. A drink would be nice, but it wouldn't be more than that. I'm just not into that; surely you can see that? You're hoping you can win me over, maybe? You won't, I'm sorry... I just couldn't with another woman.

You're a grown-up, though - I'm sure you can handle that, if I let you down easy. I hope I'm not shamelessly using you here, but I actually really want to take you up on that offer. Bring on the normality!

She looked at me inquisitively, trying to figure me out, once more. Trying to ascertain what I really wanted from her, no doubt. Trying to answer that question that had been bugging her since I had initiated my plot twist. I could see her weigh her options. She was intrigued, not willing to let this go. Not willing to let this just be the weirdest supermarket experience ever; a fun story to tell at a birthday party. She needed to know more, I could tell.

"I guess we could have one drink... It has to be somewhere quiet, though."

"I know just the place."

We were in. All systems go. I was beyond ecstatic. I had nailed the first act: the exposition; now on to the rising action, and finally - I hoped we would get that far - the climax.

* * * * *

The pub was not far from the supermarket, but I suggested she take her car and park it in a quiet street around the corner. This was not a completely innocent suggestion as it was actually the street where I lived. I hoped she would forgive my white lie, or rather my slight omission.

As I had walked to the supermarket earlier, I rode along and directed her to the place. Being in the car with her felt strangely normal and I was mostly at ease, apart from the fact that her physical proximity was making me feel warm inside and tempted to touch her. The drive being so short, there was hardly any time for more chatting, apart from exchanging directions, and soon she'd parked the car and we had walked towards the pub.

She seemed a bit nervous when we approached the door, but I knew there was no need; this was a real hidden gem. It was one of my usual hang-out and I liked it for its peace and quiet, and its relaxed atmosphere. Strangely, it was usually quite empty and thus perfect for a movie star who did not want to be accosted by adoring fans.

As we walked in - with me leading the way and her trying to be casual while hiding behind me - I saw that it had been the right decision. The place was quiet, featuring only a few couples too lost in each other to notice the striking woman who had just entered. When we walked up to the bar, the bartender looked up from the rugby match he was watching.

"Hey, if it isn't our local celebrity!" He exclaimed, rather loudly. She visibly stiffened beside me and looked around quickly to see if anyone had heard him.

"Yes, yes, Tom. There's really no need to bring it up every time," I hastened to say.

As a much-needed explanation for her, I quickly pointed at the photo hanging over the bar: "That's me. Last year. And Tom here won't let me forget about it. It's embarrassing, actually."

She looked at the photo, which showed me posing in front of the pool table with a cue and a small golden trophy, smiling goofily. She relaxed instantly, realising she was not the celebrity Tom was talking about. In fact, he probably genuinely did not recognise her - he was not into mainstream movies or celebrities. Classic case of living under a rock, that one.

"Pool champion, hey?" She said now, citing the little home-made plaque underneath the photo. She grinned and looked at me with renewed interest.

"Of the whole pub?" She waved jokingly at the empty seats around us.

I laughed, but Tom answered earnestly: "There were thirty very serious contenders from the whole region, and she beat them all. We are all very proud of her."

"Well, consider me impressed..." She smiled at me warmly and made me weak at the knees with the sheer thought of her being impressed with me.

I felt myself getting shy and I had to change the topic. I asked her what she wanted to drink and, as requested, ordered beers for both of us. While Tom poured them, I asked him if the pool room was open tonight. This was a small room in the back that could be closed off from the rest of the pub. Tom was serious about his pool table and did not want any drunkard to be able to abuse it.

"I closed the doors, but you guys are more than welcome to go in there if you want. Anything for our champion!" He laughed, knowing he was embarrassing me again.

I thanked him and we grabbed our beers. I led her to the pool room. I didn't intend to play tonight, but it was perfectly private. I just hoped she wouldn't freak out when I shut the doors behind us. Maybe that would be too much; too serial-killer isolating a victim? Maybe I should just leave them slightly ajar? I had never been this preoccupied with the position of a door before and I told myself to stop worrying about it.

"Oh, this is so cute," she said as we entered the little space. There were only three small two-person tables to the one slide and the pool table centre-stage.

Look at you, finding this perfect little quiet nook. You have no clue how grateful I am about that. I can't even remember the last time I've been inside a pub. Or the last time I've had a beer. My PT would have a thing or two to say about this. But she doesn't need to know. I deserve this! I deserve to just let go a little and enjoy myself, just like everyone else!

We took off our coats and sat down at one of the tables.

"I like your shirt," she said with a smile.

I tried to glance down inconspicuously, a bit embarrassed that I had no idea which shirt I had thrown on. It was the one with the dinosaur and the equation 'velociraptor = distanceraptor / timeraptor'. I grinned apologetically, not sure what I was apologising for.

Obviously much more mature than me in her clothing choices, she was wearing a simple loose-fitting button-down shirt, which, I was pleased to see, showed just a hint of cleavage.