DIANA NOLAN

"Do you dance?" he had questioned, his voice hinted with an Irish accent. I looked him in the eyes, his bright blue eyes gazing into mine. I crossed my arms over my chest and replied: "Only if I'm asked properly." A chuckle rippled from his throat as he extended his hand.
     "My lady of Britain, will you dance with me?" he questioned. I tried my best to keep my mouth in a straight line, but I simply couldn't. I laid my hand in his and he guided me to the dance floor. His hand covered most of my lower back as my eyes stared into his.
     "I'm not dressed properly for such a dance," I whispered. The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. "That does not matter. A dance is a dance," he reasoned. He twirled me around and always made sure his gaze held mine. The music faded into a slow song, causing us to slowly dance as well.
     "You sang beautifully," he noticed. Every Breath You Take by the Police was playing in the background. His comment flustered me, resulting in looking away. He moved my hands to his chest before he wrapped his arms around my waist. I looked up, noticing he was inches closer than before.
     "Slow dancing while embracing a stranger wasn't exactly on my bucket list," I whispered, cracking a joke. A soft huff of a chuckle escaped his throat. "Neither on mine."

I had returned to the hotel room around six on the clock in the morning and didn't feel tired at all. In Britain, it was eleven on the clock already. However, I did lie down on the bed next to my dad who was still fast asleep. I mindlessly scroll through my Instagram while my soul is still dancing with the man I do not know the name of. I pause for a moment before remembering Becky had sent me a message.

𝖸𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝟦:𝟣𝟢 𝖯𝖬

Are you down for the weekend?

𝖳𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝟨:𝟣𝟤 𝖠𝖬

📍New Jersey, The United States
𝖣𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽

I shut off my phone and closed my eyes. As soon as I close my eyes, I see his bright blue eyes. I hear the song of the Police in the background and all I can see is him. I could feel his hand on my lower back and the other in my hand. My eyes start to feel heavy and shortly after, I drift into a slumber. 

I hear distant rustling as I realize I am waking up. I slightly open my eyes, noticing my Dad's bed is empty. My hand searches for my phone, eventually grabbing it. 8.01 AM. I hadn't expected to be asleep for so long, but it felt good nonetheless.
     "You are awake!" Dad's voice fills the room. My eyes glance around the room but then I see his head popping around the corner from the bathroom.
     "How are you feeling?" he questions, brushing his teeth. I rub the sleep out of my eyes with my fingers before I answer his question. "My body is battling the standards of the US," I admit. "But, it'll be better later the day."
"Alright. Do let me know if it gets overwhelming because then we will arrange something for a solution," he says. The corners of my mouth lift into a smile. He has always been such a protective father. I do not know whether it is because I'm his first child, his daughter, or his first, female child. ''Will do, Dad.''
''How about I take you to the set with me?'' he questions from the bathroom. I stretch before I rise to my feet. ''Princess?'' he questions, probably because I haven't given him an answer. ''I would love to go, Dad,'' I answer, popping my head around the corner of the bathroom. I see the corners of his mouth curve into a smile as his eyes squint with happiness. It is adorable.
''Momma misses you,'' I say. His smile fades into a faint smile. ''How is she doing?'' he questions. ''She is doing great,'' I reply with a smile. ''Good,'' he smiles.

I pull my hoodie over my mouth because I am cold. A vague scent of his cologne makes its way through my nostrils. I close my eyes for a brief moment as a shiver runs down my spine.
''Are you alright?'' Dad questions. I open my eyes and glance in his direction. I pull my hoodie from my mouth and nod. ''I was just cold,'' I reply. ''Coffee and tea is around the corner,'' he says and increases his walking pace. Dad secures me a cup of tea and a cup of coffee for himself. He guides me to the set, greeting several staff members.
''There they are,'' Dad beams. I am far too busy to look around while Dad holds my arm and drags me with him. ''Princess?'' his question draws my attention and my eyes fall on a dark-haired man. ''I want you to meet Christian Bale,'' he introduces. "The Batman of the show.'' The tall man walks up to me as we shake hands.
''Christian Bale. A pleasure to meet you,'' he smiles. ''Christian, meet my daughter,'' he smiles. ''Diana Nolan,'' I smile as my gaze wanders around the city. The city is empty, surely because they are filming. My eyes fall on a figure in the distance. I frown as I narrow my eyes, a nervous feeling I have seen him before creeps into my stomach.

''Have you seen Cillian?'' I heard my father ask, but his voice sounded like an echo. Christian replied, but I couldn't hear what he said. But then my father called his name.
     ''Cillian!'' The figure turns his head and holy shizzles. He looks similar to the man I met earlier this day but with glasses. Then his blue eyes met mine and then I knew for sure. It is him. My heartbeat elevates and out of pure panic, I turn around and take a few steps away from my father. Who doesn't seem to have noticed? I pull the hood over my head.
''Good morning, Cillian,'' Dad smiles. ''Meet my-'' He falls silent as he must have noticed that I am not by his side anymore. ''Where has she gone to?'' he questions, but he must have recognized me because I felt a hand grabbing my arm. ''There you are,'' he laughs.
''Cillian, meet my daughter,'' he introduces. Cillian. His name is Cillian. I meet his eyes from underneath the rim of my hood. ''Hello,'' I greet awkwardly, pushing my hood off my head with one hand. A shocked expression flashes in his eyes. He stays silent for moments as he looks at me. He blinks, shaking his head before acting as if nothing happened.
     ''I'm Cillian Murphy,'' he speaks softly. I accept his hand, the hand that laid on my waist earlier that day. He brings my hand to his mouth as he presses a soft kiss on my knuckles. ''I'm Diana Nolan,'' I introduce, not wanting to look away.
''Have you met before?'' my father questions, causing Cillian to avert his eyes from mine. I too avert my eyes from him, looking at my father ''No, we haven't-'' ''You could say that,'' Cillian and I speak in unison. His forehead creases, his expression demanding an explanation. I sigh, gripping my cup of tea. I open my mouth to clarify, but it is not my voice I hear.
''I met Lady Diana only a couple of hours ago. We shared a dance and we left without a name,'' Cillian explains. It sounded poetic in my ears, however, it was far from poetry. He made it sound elegant and graceful. His eyes find mine again.
     "How lovely," Dad smiles, running his hand through my hair. "Diana is determined on the Olympics of 2004 in Athens next year." I feel his arm wrap around my shoulder. He then reminds me of my goal. The Olympics.
"That is right," I say. "The World Championships is around the corner." Cillian raises his eyebrows in surprise. "A World Championship and the Olympics. Quite the ambitions," he praises. My cheeks flush before I look away.
     "I need to get through the qualifications though," I mutter, not thinking any of them would hear me. However, Cillian tilts his head at me. "Do not think so low of yourself," he reasons. "You are participating in a World Championship. That is incredible, to say the least." I have always found it hard to believe the positive messages people tell me.
     "Thank you," I smile humbly. My cheeks feel warm and I don't feel cold anymore. I nervously run a hand through my hair. Why am I so nervous? What I hadn't noticed, is that my father left. He just left us alone.
     "So, you play the Scarecrow?" I question, changing the subject. He huffs a chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. "Correct," he answers. "Dr. Jonathan Crane. The villain of the film."
     "How do you prepare for such a role?" I question, genuinely interested. He seems to need a few moments to think about his answer. "It depends, as in ... This is based on the DC comics, so I have read the comics to get to know this character. And this villain has lived in fear during his entire childhood and he once realized he could control it, he would never let it control him again. I personally like to give it a touch of myself." During his talk, my eyes wander to his attire: a full suit. A. Full. Ass. Suit. With. Glasses. And do not get me started on his hair. Majestic.
"Wow," I breathe. "Doesn't that mess with your mind?" His lips pout as he slowly shakes his head. "Not particularly," he answers. "Although, I need the time off after filming."
"How do you prepare for a competition, because what sport do you do?" he questions swiftly. Bastard. I arch an eyebrow at him. "We are not switching subjects here, Cillian," I say, a teasing undertone in my voice. He cocks an eyebrow, countering my question: "Can't I show interest in someone I have shared a dance with?" Double bastard. My amused expression fades into a glare, causing him to chuckle.
"Bastard," I mutter, knowing he has heard me. "But if you wish to know, I have a standard routine as a gymnast. The practice before the competition is always shorter than usual because I'll be doing my routine and done. And ... I always shower the night before and I make sure I'm on time in bed. The next morning, I dress up and then do make-up before doing my hair. I mentally walk through my routines before I head to the competition." Even though it wasn't as exciting as Cillian's preparation, he seemed to have his full attention on me.
"I don't know much about gymnastics," he admits. "And I wish to understand, what do you mean with routines?" I wish to understand. His words feel like a warm embrace around my heart. The corner of my mouth curves into a smile as I start explaining the four different subjects.
"The vault exists of a pegasus and a springboard and you simply hurdle onto the springboard and perform mid-air somersaults or twists before landing. The uneven bars exist of a series of acrobatic swings and turns before the dismount. The balance beam is a narrow padded beam on which we perform leaps, turns, dance steps, and somersaults before also ending with a dismount. Last but not least, the floor. Our women's floor routine consists of a one-and-a-half minute music where we perform in tumbling lines and show our choreography," I explain. My eyes were fixed on Cillian's eyes, who concentrated on understanding the words I was saying.
"Otherwise, I could suggest a competition to watch," I add as a joke. "Perhaps, I will. One of yours of course," he implies. The look on his face tells me he is deadly serious about it. "Trying to impress me?" I smile, not thinking much of it until he says: "Yes."

I stand next to a cameraman in a building we are filming in. My father stands with Cillian a few meters away from me. They seem to have engaged in a deep conversation, but Cillian's eyes always find time to sneak a glance from me. My cheeks flush every time our eyes meet.
My attention is drawn elsewhere, to my phone to be exact. I pull out the device and see Beckie's raging messages.

✆ MESSAGES                                                          now
Beckie🩵
Girl what?

✆ MESSAGES                                                          now
Beckie🩵
Why are you in fucking New Jersey?

✆ MESSAGES                                                          now
Beckie🩵
And you didn't even tell me?🧍🏻‍♀️

𝖸𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝟦:𝟣𝟢 𝖯𝖬

Are you down for the weekend?

𝖳𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝟨:𝟣𝟤 𝖠𝖬

📍New Jersey, The United States

𝖳𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝟣:𝟣𝟣 𝖯𝖬

Girl what?
Why are you in fucking New Jersey?
And you didn't even tell me?🧍🏻‍♀️

It was quite a last minute trip
Besides, I'm visiting my father

Who is your father again?

Christopher Nolan
Film producer, they are filming Batman

Ohh, dope
Did you meet any co-stars?

I did
Christian Bale, the Batman
And Cillian Murphy, the villain

...

I lift my head from my screen. My eyes dart around the building until they meet Cillian's eyes. Once that registered in his mind, he looked away. The corners of my mouth quirked into a small smile.
     He was already looking at me.