Thomas' pov

I was prey for the reporters.

Hundreds and hundreds of journalists stretched along the short length of carpet, waving their arms in a vie to talk to anyone semi-famous. While most focused their attention to the actual stars of the movie being showcased, others signaled to the guest celebrities, including myself. I could almost cringe at the desperation evident on their faces as I drew closer, hoping to grab me in their clutches, willing to sink their fangs into my skin, forcing me to dish out venom I would later regret.

I was the prey, and they were the predators.

Cameras flashed, teenage fans screamed. Old castmates laughed together, and after tonight, the cast of the movie would bid each other farewell, perhaps to never work together again.

The media has built up these moments to be the highlight of young actors' careers. It's like they thought being gawked at like a goldfish for several hours was actually a fun form of entertainment for us.

Despite my bitter tone, I usually enjoyed myself at these events. They weren't all bad; in fact, sometimes, I got to meet my fans, which was always my favorite part of being an actor. I was one of the lucky actors in Hollywood too. I didn't receive much more hate than the average actor, even though my fame had skyrocketed way above most within the last 5 years. Most people loved me, especially last week after my apology video to the little girl went viral online. I didn't have to deal with too many negative comments while I walked the red carpet, unlike some actors.

I had grown strangely used to these events after being to so many in the past. At my first movie event, I had been petrified; stuttering my way through questions and giving breathless greetings to the stars of the movie. Now however, I was confident in my stance and felt only a sense of nostalgia every time I was invited as a guest to another night on the 'red' carpet. It was like reading the same book time and time again; the plot and characters always remain the same, but every time you reread you pick up on small details you had missed before. It never grows old, but it never gets new either.

I will admit that sometimes it was a bit overwhelming, hearing so many people chant your name. Some nights, I almost felt the need to crawl into myself under the thousands of eyes watching my every move.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The hair on the back of my neck raised as I made my way down the line of reporters, answering questions mostly about The Maze Runner. I felt a pair of eyes watching me intently, but every time I tried to find who it was, I was blinded by the flashing lights of cameras.

I looked to my left, and low and behold, I made eye contact with an old castmate. We greeted each other, smiling and laughing as we "bro-hugged", and I figured he must have been what had had my senses on high alert.

Yet for some reason, I stayed tense for the duration of my interviews, until finally I ducked into the chilled venue, a breath of relief escaping my chapped lips.

***

I have to pee.

No, you don't understand. I have to fricking piss so bad.

I was fidgeting in my seat, trying with all my might not to piss myself. The others seated around me were enraptured by the movie being screened, but my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of, holy shit I'm going to pee, instead.

I fought internally with myself for a solid half hour, wondering if leaving halfway through the movie would be worth the press and embarassment. Finally, when I knew I couldn't last another minute, I waddled out of my seat, (which was of course in the middle of the row) and out of the theatre.

Before I knew it, I was in the bathroom alone. I'll spare you the details, but bloody hell, it felt good.

I was washing my hands in the bathroom sink when footsteps echoed off the linoleum walls, shaking me from my thoughts. I glanced up, making eye contact with a guy that looked only a few years older than myself. He stopped walking, standing still in the middle of the bathroom, and I looked back down, trying to ignore the awkward tension in the room.

"Thomas Brodie-Sangster," he finally drawled, pronouncing each syllable in my name like it was a work of art. "I've been dying to meet you again."

I turned to face him, feeling the awkwardness increase when I realized he had been staring at me. I gave him a half smile, desperately trying to remember who he was and how I might know him. Meanwhile, he looked down on me with a scrutinizing glare, and the only sound in the public restroom was the sound of dripping water. I cleared my throat, finally questioning, "Uh...I'm sorry. Do I know you?"

He chuckled, answering, "Yes, yes." He continued chuckling, and I smiled, though I had no idea what was going on. "I interviewed you a few years back for Phantom Halo. I'd think you'd remember someone like me."

I arched an eyebrow, thoroughly put off. "Oh, uh sorry." I scratched the back of my neck, feeling a cloud over my mind, blocking me from getting a clear view at my thoughts. Wbo was this guy?

The tension thickened between us, so I started towards the exit, hoping to escape this whack job as soon as possible. I was two strides from the closed door when I felt a sudden pull on my leather jacket, knocking me off balance. Pain exploded in my chest as I crashed heavily into the wall, and my breath vanished from my lungs. I doubled over, gasping like a fish out of water.

"Bloody He--"

"Not so fast," the man croaked, right above me. Instantly, my heart jumped to my throat. I stood straight up, my chest still tight, and glared at the man in front of me, pure hatred visible like fire in my eyes.

"Can I help you?" I questioned, trying to sound tough but ultimately failing when my voice cracked.

The man chuckled again. "I just want to talk, Thomas. There's no harm in that, right?"

I glanced at the door, muttering, "I have places to be." But even as I said that, I knew this man would force me stay here until he got what he wanted.

"Oh, they can wait." And the way he said it made my skin crawl, a shiver dancing up my spine.

The tension in the room raised again, and I struggled to find a response. The man scratched his nose, stepping back to give me room to breath. He stayed silent, watching me from two feet away.

"Look, if you're just going to stare at me--"

"I interviewed you four years ago, Thomas." He interrupted. "Don't you remember? I'd think it'd be pretty distinctive, considering you spilled secrets to me you had never confessed befofe."

Just like that, the clouds in my mind cleared, replaced by moments I'd much rather forget. My blood ran cold with his words, and a flash of repressed memories splashed behind my eyelids in the time span of a single blink. Reggie Mills, Journalist of the LA Times. I kept a straight face, but my hands wringed together nervously, my breathing speeding up. I sniffed, jutting out my chin as I said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play stupid with me, Sangster," the man rumbled in a low voice. "The past cannot be forgotten. It can be forgiven, but never, ever forgotten."

The man stepped closer. I pressed my back into the wall, grounding myself so I didn't dissapear into my head.

"What do you want?" I questioned, voice small.

He hesitated. "I have a...proposition for you, Thomas." Reggie Mills licked his lips, lost in thought.

I gulped, trying to fight my curious nature so that I could get out of this and leave. "I'm not interested," I stated blandly, but my eyes betrayed me. Reggie smiled again.

"I think you will be," Reggie said, taking a few steps back and leaning against a sink. He reached onto his back, pulling at a backpack rested on his left shoulder. His fingers riffled through, pulling out a small leather journal. His fingers stroked the spine, and he spoke up, "You have a choice, of course. I'm not threatening you, and I'm certainly no criminal. However, I can assure you that the deal I'm about to offer you will be greatly beneficial for you and your career."

My eyes narrowed. "Deal?"

"Yes, a deal. A bet even, if you will."

My curiosity flared and I subconsciously leaned forward. Reggie knew he had my attention.

"What are you talking about?" I questioned.

"I heard you are playing Newt in The Maze Runner," Reggie started. "Have you met your castmates yet?"

I didn't see what this had to do with our previous conversation, but I replied anyway, "A few."

Reggie nodded, like he expected my answer. "Names?"

"Look, I don't know if I can really--"

"Just tell me, Thomas," he ordered.

I sighed, but didn't see any way I could get out of answering. "Ki Hong Lee, Will Poulter, Kaya--"

"Who's playing Thomas?" He interrupted again.

I thought for a second, answering, "Some kid named Dylan O'bern, I think."

"Dylan O'Brien," he corrected. "He's rumored to be gay, as well."

Why does this matter? I thought. Why did he ask if he already knew the answer? I glanced hopelessly at the exit again, praying for someone to come in and save me.

"Cool, can you just get to the point?" I was impatient now, just wanting him to tell me what he proposed so I could get back to the movie.

Reggie Mills watched me carefully. Then slowly, a sarcastic grin spread across his face, and he said slowly, "I have a bet for you."

I stared at him blankly. "You said that already."

His eyes flashed in anger, but his neutral expression quickly returned. Then finally he spoke, voice taunting and grim, filling my ears and wrapping around my thoughts.

"I dare you to make Dylan O'Brien fall in love with you."

What? My face was blank, and I was more startled than anything. "No," I said. "I don't even know him. No."

"You haven't even heard everything I've had to say!" Reggie argued.

"My answer is no. Im leaving." I pushed myself off the wall, heading towards the exit.

Reggie grabbed my jacket, pulling me to an abrupt stop. "Listen kid," he growled into my ear. "I said you had choice in agreeing to my proposition. I didn't say you had a choice of whether or not to listen to me." He gripped my arm, spun me around, and pushed me into the space between two urinals. My shoulders hunched in the thin space, blocked in on both sides.

I was trapped. By urinals.

I took a deep breath, then was struck by a thought. "Why Dylan?" I asked, eyes hard.

Reggie pursed his lips, looking deep in thought. "He's new to the media. You can show him the ropes, get him to trust you, and then..."

"And then what?" I pushed, my stomach fluttering in both excitement and dread. I had a feeling I wouldn't like where this is going.

"And then, if you can get him to admit he loves you, you can break his heart."

My mouth dropped open. "What?" I sputtered. Tricking someone into falling in love with you was one thing, but intentionally breaking their heart? "I...no, I can't do that. I'm not always as heartless as I'm portrayed."

Reggie snorted. "Look, Thomas. I'm a journalist. I don't care about morals, I care about the story."

I shook my head slowly, disbelieving of what I was hearing. "Why me? Why do you want to make a bet with me?"

Reggie closed his eyes, exasperated. "Dylan's young, naive, and the star of what could potentially be the biggest blockbuster of the year. You are the most famous actor in Hollywood right now. Two polar opposites? You can't even tell me that that doesn't sound like a good story."

"So...you just want me to do this so you can write an article about it later?" I asked.

Reggie began to pace, and I watched him as he explained, "I guess you aren't as stupid as you look. I won't lie, this will make an amazing article for me. However, it's not like you'll be doing me any type of favors. By taking this bet, you'll have something to gain, but you'll still have something to lose."

I rolled this around in my head. "I'm not saying yes...but what do I get if I win? If I can get Dylan to fall for me?"

Reggie grinned like the Cheshire Cat, almost like those were the words he wanted to hear. "Oh, Thomas. If you win, I'll pay you 50% of the profits I make off my article."

I stared at him blankly. "Seriously? That's all you got? Dude, I'm loaded. I don't exactly need money."

Reggie nodded, as though he expected this. "I know, but thats all I can physically offer. BUT think about how much publicity this will get you. You'll be a total bad-boy, instead of the half-rebel-half-cuddly-teddy-bear image you have now."

He had a point on this one. My hands clenched at my sides.

Reggie stopped pacing, looking me dead in the eye as he said, "Besides, I know you're frustrated with the media by now. Don't you feel like they're controlling you?"

Before I even knew it, I was nodding. "Exactly," he said. "Why don't you control your own life for once?"

I could feel my resolve slipping with his words, and I hoped he would shut up before I agreed. Stupid journalists are stupidly good at persuading stupid people like myself. He didn't stop there either.

"And also...if you win, I'll forget you ever told me any secrets at all," Reggie continued in a softer tone than before. The air around us felt fragile, and my eyes widened imperceptibly.

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off again. "But if you lose, well, let's just say I'll have two fascinating artices to write, not just one about lovers."

My heart stopped.

I wanted to throw up.

He wouldn't.

He would.

He was threatening me.

"You'd tell the whole world my worst memory?" I uttered, voice barely audible. My lip trembled, and though I was taller than Reggie, I suddenly felt much smaller.

Reggie stepped closer again. "If you can't make Dylan fall in love with you, then yes, that's my reward."

I felt so lost. I stared at Reggie, sure he was joking, but when his face remained stoic, I knew he was serious. He would actually tell everyone.

But at the same time, if I won, he would forget like I ever told him, and it'd be my secret, and my secret alone, again.

What was I supposed to do?

Reggie turned his back to me. "You don't have to give me an answer quite yet, but I'd appreciate one soon."

"And if I decline your bet?" I asked.

"That's always an option, though, not a good one," Reggie said. His tone held a warning. I wouldn't do that if I were you.

I didn't reply. My mind was racing, my blood pounding in my ears. Hatred weaved in and out of my tembling form, all directed at the man in front of me. I watched him spin on his heel, stalking directly towards me. He looked down his crooked nose, then held out his hand. I glanced down at the long forgotten leather bound notebook he had pulled out earlier.

"Well, don't just stare at it. Take it," Reggie ordered. He shoved it into my chest, and my hands rushed to clutch it before it fell to the ground.

"What..." I trailed. My words came out slow and sluggish, ten steps behind my thoughts.

Reggie nodded towards the journal. "In case you choose to take the bet. Anytime something big happens in your relationship with Dylan, write it down."

I gulped, studying the bathroom tiles to avoid his eyes.

Reggie took a step back, than another and another until he stood in front of the bathroom exit. Then he said, "You have until everything involving the Maze Runner is over. That includes shooting, press after shooting, and then the interviews when the movie finally comes out. 5 months. If you can make Dylan O'Brien fall completely in love with you, you win. If you can't, I win."

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with only the sound of dripping water.

***

The plane was silent.

It was just after two in the morning, and I was dog tired. My feet throbbed and my face felt stiff, while every time I blinked I still saw bright flashes of fluorescent color behind my eyelids. I smile softly as I recall the night's events: my fans screaming my name, though I was there only to view the movie, laughing with old cast mates I hadn't seen in ages, and even the taste of soda pop on my tongue, a drink alien to me in childhood which carried over well into my adulthood.

The other inhabitants of first class were asleep, save for a few night owls. Jack was snoring to my right, and I had claimed the window seat. I ought to sleep as well, but there was a nagging at the back of my mind that I couldn't shake.

The smile slipped from my lips as I recalled Reggie Mills.

What was I supposed to do?

I could take the bet and risk having Reggie break down the walls I had so cautiously built throughout my career, or I could decline.

Something told me declining wasn't really an option though.

I turned my head, looking down at the city lights bright below me. I was finally on my way to Lousiana to film Maze Runner, though that thought was only a distant reminder in the back of my brain.

Should I do it? How would this effect my career?

There was no doubt in my mind that I could make this Dylan kid fall for me. The rest of the world worshipped the ground beneath my feet, so I doubted some random newbie would be any different.

I was more concerned that Reggie wouldn't live up to his end of the deal. When I won, how could I trust that he wouldn't tell everyone anyway?

Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of guilt washed over me as I remembered that Dylan O'Brien had no experience in the world of the media. I was going to use him for my own personal gain, and he wouldn't even realize, because he had no idea how decieving our line of work could be.

Would he be hurt? Embarrassed? Why did I care?

I watched the lights begin to taper out below, along with my guilty concious. I didn't care about this kid, why would it matter if he got a little broken heart?

Besides, I was slowly coming to the conclusion that I had sealed my fate the moment I set foot in the movie theatre bathroom.

With that thought in mind, I opened up my Twitter feed, searching up Reggie Mills and his account. I tapped the 'Direct Message' icon, quickly typing in my response.

And then I hit send, and before I could regret it, I shut my laptop, laying it at my feet; I closed my eyes, and as I drifted off to sleep, my dreams took flight, like a bird at dusk.

But behind my eyelids, even as I slept, the three words burned bright in my eye.

It's a bet.

//

I'm back.

Wow, okay, this chapter took longer than the others but it's like 1k longer than usual and also contains PlOt DeVeLoPmEnT, so I kinda wanted it to make sense..does it??

The beginning is awful yady-yady-yada, and I totally get if you skipped it but like the ending is kind of important I think idk I mean let's just roll with that.

Also, I still haven't seen Scorch Trials bc AMERICA

thanks obama

Ummmmm I have been watching cast interviews though and gosh dylan and thomas are Ughgjdiskdjsodjx

I think that's it?

Until next time,

//sam\\