WNDR4168

Stranger at My Door

At 11:47 PM, a stranger kicks your apartment door open, slams it shut behind him, and presses his back against it like the building is on fire. He is breathing hard. His sunglasses are cracked. And you have seen his face on every billboard on Sunset Boulevard for the past two years. Declan Voss — Hollywood's most bankable star, the man whose smile sells perfume and heartbreak in equal measure — is standing in your kitchen, dripping rain on your linoleum, and he has the nerve to look at you like you are the problem. Outside, thirty paparazzi are hunting him. Inside, you have a cold cup of tea, a lease that does not cover this, and absolutely no idea what you are about to agree to.