If you go to enough of them, all parties start to feel the same after a while; the same music, the same conversations, the same drinks. And that night was no different. I had been partying a lot around that time. After finishing up Game of Thrones, I needed time to let my hair down, especially after saying goodbye to Arya for the last time. That night, I was at a beach party near my hometown, Bristol. England was about a month into a heatwave that was supposed to only last a week. After months spent filming in heavy costumes, it felt so good to finally wear bikinis again, to feel the soft sand dance between my toes, the sun warming my skin.
It was about 10 o'clock. We had pretty much been drinking all day. I was really buzzed. The party moved into a bar that was about a 2-minute walk from the beach. I sat on a couch with a drink, trying to hide from anyone looking to take selfies with me. The thumping drums blasting through the PA was starting to give me a headache. I flicked through my phone, twirling the straw around with my tongue as Instagram notifications blew up my phone one after an other. 'Valar Morghulis', 'a girl is turnt af' — I've seen all the Arya-related captions a thousand times by now. I decided I needed some fresh air so I took my Vodka Red Bull and pushed open the big glass door that lead out to the beach. The sandy, wooden steps down to the beach tickled my feet as the long, straw grass breathed and swayed in the gentle summer night's breeze.
With every step further from the bar, the thumping pulse of the DJ's beats grew quieter. I began to notice my ears were ringing from the loud music as I stepped closer to the beach. 'God, these parties can't be good for me', I said to myself, wiggling a finger in my ear, trying to stop the ringing. As I got closer to the beach, the lazy sighs of the sea as it washed to and from the shore started to drown out the ringing. The sun made its way behind the horizon, coloring the sky with vivid orange and pink. There was a gazebo overlooking the sea which looked as good a spot as any to stop and think for a while. I walked in and dusted off the white, chipped paint from the top of a wooden panel, and rested my elbows on it, leaning into the sunset. I felt lonely. Maybe it was just the alcohol. Maybe it was the impersonal selfies with fans, but I couldn't shake this hollow feeling deep inside me.
I glanced around and saw a man walking on the beach towards me. He wore a white, collarless shirt rolled up past his elbows, and coffee colored shorts. His mahogany hair was cropped and lazily finger combed back. It was hard to see under his flowing white shirt, but he looked fit. The hazy sunlight cast shadows over his muscular arms, confirming their size. He approached me. Our eyes met. He tilted his head like a confused puppy and furrowed his brow.
'I'm sorry, but, are you... you're Arya Stark, aren't you?' I tilted my head toward him and grinned.
'Yeah, I am. I'm Maisie. Nice to meet you.' I offered my hand. He shook it confidently.
'Would you mind if I...' he said bashfully, raising his shoulders.
'Oh, sure, absolutely.' Presuming he was asking for a selfie, I placed my drink on the ledge, and moved my hand toward his back to get into position for the photo. He turned, facing me, reached around and put his hand on my lower back and pulled me in close, pushing his lips against mine. I let out a small squeak in surprise, but I didn't feel myself pushing away. My head was screaming 'WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING. GET OUT'. But my body wouldn't let me. I leaned in and kissed him back, draping my arms over his shoulders. He laughed, blowing out a little air from his nose onto my top lip. I felt his cheeks rise against mine as he smiled. His hand traced down my lower back until he grabbed a handful of my butt. His other hand grabbed my shoulder. Our bodies were locked together. Our tongues exploring each other's. And all with a complete stranger. It felt so wrong but I couldn't bring myself to stop. I pushed myself up onto the tips of my toes and nibbled his ear.
