We had gotten back last night and fallen asleep.

This morning at 7 AM, we unpack his stuff, and I get ice on his hand. He hisses and tries to take it away, but I grab it and hold it to his knuckles.

"Why are you being nice again?" He asks.

"You saved me. Twice. That doesn't go unnoticed by me." I wrap up his hand and grab him a beer, and pop open a Big Red bottle.

"You drink Big Red?" I laugh at his face.

"Yes. I do. Deal with it." I go to my room and prop my door open and put on 'The Truth' by Jason Aldean and sing along, doing up my hair.

"What's the occasion?" I laugh.

"I have to go to New York for a meeting with my manager. Wanna come with?" He jumps up and goes to his room, which makes me laugh. I straighten my hair and leave it down, do my makeup as natural as I can, and put on my Deadpool tank top, leave my leggings on, and put on my white Chuck Taylor Converse on.

I put on my Captain America snapback on backwards, and tie a plaid button up around my waist, completing my look.

I walk out, and Chris laughs.

"You look like you're going to go to a club or baseball game rather than a manager's office." I smirk.

"We're also going to the Dodgers game." I hold up two tickets and he gives me a skeptical look.

"Who'd you steal those from?"

"My ex. Last thing he did right was get me tickets for this game last week. My 28th birthday to be precise." He hugs me.

"Happy late birthday." I smile.

"Thanks." He goes back and changes, and comes back out, and we get in my truck again.

"Nice cap." He says, flicking it.

"Egotistical." I love his laugh.

"No, just stating the obvious." I laugh, and get on Brooklyn Bridge, and turn down the music.

"20 questions. You go." He nods. (AN: making some of this up, sorry.)

"Where were you born?"

"San Antonio, Texas. Who was your first crush?"

"A girl in 6th grade. Who is your current crush?" He asks, and I blush.

"Celebrity? Ryan Reynolds. Person? Hmm. I can't say his name. You might know him though." Am I seriously admitting I have a crush on him?

Chris' POV

She bites her lip and looks around.

"Ohh, really?" I ask, skeptical.

"Yea. He has brown hair, 6', blue eyes." She blushes, and I look at her outfit. She looks amazing, but I love making her mad. "Who is yours?" She asks, cutting her eyes at me.

"Celebrity? Hmm. Probably Keira Knightly. A person? I can't say her name, but you might know her." I say, mocking her. She scowls, and I almost laugh.

"Describe her to me." She says, and we cross into NYC.

"She's got red hair, 5'7, and grey with blue flecks in her eyes." I can't believe I just described her. Damnit all to hell.

"She sounds like she looks pretty." She replies, and turns into a parking garage. She parks, and grabs her bag and keys, and gets out. I follow her.

"My turn. When did you loose your virginity?" I ask and she gives me a glance.

"Senior year. To a guy I barely knew. You?"

"About the same. Except I had a crush on her." She laughs, and I smile. I love her laugh. We walk into the office building, still asking each other questions, when her manager calls her in. We both go into the huge office, and I'm nearly blown away.

"Hello McKenzie. Who is this?" She asks.

"Chris Evans." I say, and shake her hand.

"Great to meet you. Kenz, you have to get an album out. Your fans are dying." I nearly burst out laughing. An album? Ohh wait, I knew that one.

"They have my movies!" She says, and I nearly question it. And an actress? Holy crap.

"And have you written anything? No." Excuse me, what kind of angel just dropped into my life.

"I've been busy." She whispers I feel bad for her.

"And you went behind my back and went to school for being a makeup artist." Holy crap. She has a major workload, and she has no money? Crimeny.

"Mo-" Her manager gives her a look. Her mom? Good God, this girl lives a complicated life.

"Go home and get some writing done. Ohh, before you leave, the Russo Brothers contacted me. They wants you to be Mr. Evans' makeup artist and play a character called Last Light. They sent the script, hang on." She looks around. "Here we are." She drops the script in her hand, and sends her out, looking at the New York skyline. We exit, and get in her truck before I ask questions.

"What was that?" I ask.

"That was my mom being my manager." She sighs. I get the tickets from her hand and give them to a couple walking down the street, telling them where to go, before getting back. She looks at me weird.

"What was that! I wanted to go!" She yells. I get her out of the driver's seat and into the passenger's before she knows it, and climb into the driver's seat.

"We are going home, and helping you write. You seem to be distracted. Let's go." I start the truck, and go, watching her pout and look out the window from the corner of my eye.