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#Starstruck by Wilson, Sariah (2)

CHAPTER TWO

Lexi was appropriately sympathetic when I told her the news, but seeing as how she was well off and didn’t understand the whole not-having-money thing and was relentlessly optimistic, she was sure I would have another job soon and that it wasn’t worth worrying about.

She had texted Gavin, and he had offered to drive us, but she explained that this was a Zoe and Lexi–only event. She had set up “Operation Chase” when we were in seventh grade. It was one of the various ways Lexi thought we could meet Chase. Like getting on one of his TV shows. Or throwing ourselves in front of his limo so he’d have to rush us to the hospital. Or he would read one of her many fan letters and realize she was the girl for him, and he’d ride up to our school on a white horse and declare his love. (What can I say? We were thirteen.)

We stopped at an IHOP along the way and sat in a booth eating pancakes (my possible last meal if I didn’t find new employment soon) and practicing exactly what Lexi would say to Chase. She had so many variations, I lost track. She considered improv to be one of her specialties, so I knew she’d figure it out. I didn’t expect I would get to say anything.

Even if I did, what would I say? “Hi, I’m the girl who insulted your acting ability on Twitter last night. How are you?”

“This may not work,” I warned her once we were back on the road. She danced along to the pop tunes played by KHWV—The Heatwave. We didn’t normally listen to the radio, but Lexi was all about getting into character, and for some reason listening to the station we were about to lay siege to helped with that.

“It will work,” she said confidently. “You’re still up for being my maid of honor?”

“I don’t know if I can pull off the lime green,” I said, which made Lexi smile. When we were fifteen, Lexi had planned her wedding to Chase (the wedding scrapbook was still at her grandma’s house). Chase had said in an interview that his favorite color was lime green, so my bridesmaid dress obviously had to be lime green. But paired with my fair skin and strawberry-blonde hair, I would look deathly ill.

“It doesn’t have to be lime green. I still hope you’re not taller than him.”

Yet another way Lexi and I were opposites—she was a good six inches shorter than I was. We had many discussions about how tall Chase actually was; both of us were into very tall men. He said he was six three, but Lexi always insisted it wasn’t true. “Actors do that all the time. They say they’re five eight, but that means they’re actually five three. They want to seem taller. I’m the one in the drama department. Trust me, they’re almost all short.” When I started sprouting up in high school and the girls’ basketball coach wouldn’t stop bugging me about joining the team, one of my biggest concerns was that I would be taller than Chase.

“I guess we’re about to find out.”

“You bet we are! Oh, we are going to have the prettiest babies,” she said with a laugh.

As I pulled into the empty parking lot, I realized how our actions might look to someone who didn’t care about Chase. It was weird to be part of a fandom. It was like the rational part of my brain recognized the things I did were crazy, but the rest of me didn’t care that my actions would not be what other people would consider “normal.”

It’s something only other fans get.

“Now what?” I asked. “We just stand in front of the station and hope we see him?”

Lexi shrugged. “I guess.”

We got out of the car, and I zipped up my jacket. Lexi refused to wear one because she wanted Chase to see her skimpy, club-worthy outfit. I had repeatedly warned her that she was going to freeze, but she didn’t care.

I checked my phone. Still a bunch of hate tweets I hadn’t looked at yet. It was four o’clock in the morning. When we got closer to the building, we realized it had a high fence with a locked door. Lexi tugged on the door twice, letting out a moan of frustration. “I didn’t know it would be locked!”

“What? But your plan was so well thought out and perfectly calculated.”

She smacked me on the shoulder, and I tried not to laugh. She began rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

“I think I have an extra sweater in the car. Do you want me to get it?”

“No,” she said, her teeth slightly chattering. “He has to get the full effect. I want him to see me like this. He can’t fall in love with me if I’m all covered up.”

It was not the time to have the love-versus-lust conversation with her again. “Unless he has a Smurf fetish, he’s not going to think your blue skin is attractive.”

“Quiet for a second. I need to think.” She started pacing back and forth while I leaned against the fence, eyes closed. This was a better plan than the one where she wanted to call in a bomb threat to the studio where his sitcom filmed and be waiting outside when they evacuated. It was her favorite plan until I convinced her the FBI would get involved and we would go to prison, and she looked terrible in orange.

There was a creaking, metallic sound from somewhere behind us, and we both turned to see a gate sliding open.

Behind the radio station.

“No!” Lexi wailed. She pulled out her phone and began to furiously text. It was still dark out, but the building had several outdoor lights. I saw a man emerge from a black SUV, and my heart started thumping when Chase got out of the back seat. He was wearing a ball cap. Although I couldn’t see him clearly, I knew it was him.

The man stopped and took a phone out of his pants pocket. He said something to Chase, and Chase went into the building while the man began to walk toward us.

“Take off the jacket,” Lexi hissed. “You look great. How do I look?”

“Perfect, like always,” I told her. “What did you just do?”

As he came closer, I realized the man had dyed his hair so blond it was almost white, and he had frosted the tips light blue. But he was wearing a polo shirt and khakis. He was the kind of guy who so desperately wanted to be cool that he mimicked someone else, but it just came off looking clueless and stupid. I couldn’t tell how old he was. He had one of those LA faces where he could have been anywhere between twenty and forty.

“Sexy Lexi,” he said. His voice sounded oily, which grossed me out. “You’re even hotter in the flesh.”

This had to be the publicist. Aaron Mathison. Lexi must have texted him that we were here.

She batted her eyelashes at him, hunching her shoulders together to push her boobs up. I’d seen her do this maneuver on so many guys that I rolled my eyes.

But it worked. He couldn’t take his gaze away from her cleavage.

“You said you’d be here, and I wanted to meet you,” Lexi said. “And my friend, Zoe, really wants to go into radio, so I thought this would be such a great chance for her.” She gave him a seductive smile, lowering her voice as she added, “And such a great chance for you.”

Aaron cleared his throat and shifted from one foot to the other. “Let me see if I can find someone to let you in. Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

After he left, I said, “Gavin’s going to kill you.”

“I haven’t done anything other than flirt, which is not cheating,” she replied. “And ew. Give me a little credit. I’m not doing anything with that skeevy pervert.”

If she were anyone else, I would probably be upset, but I was the one person in the world who not only understood but also shared in her obsession. “But you might want to do something with Mr. Covington when you finally meet him.”

She ignored me. “Zoe, this is it. We’re finally going to meet him.” If ever a moment called for screaming, this was probably it. But we were both cold and a little in shock that it was actually happening. It didn’t seem real.

And it wasn’t.

At least for me.

A heavyset security guard came to the fence a few minutes later. “Lexi Antonelli?”

“That’s me,” she said, leaning against me for warmth.

“You can come with me.” He pulled out a key ring and thumbed through the keys until he found the right one. He put it in the lock and pulled the door open. The bottom of it scratched against the concrete.

She stayed put. “What about my friend? She’s supposed to come in, too.”

“I was only told to bring in Lexi Antonelli. And this door’s about to close.”

Lexi looked at me frantically, and I understood her dilemma. This was a dream we shared together, and I knew she wanted to go but also didn’t want to leave me.

“Go without me,” I told her. “If anyone deserves to meet him, it’s you.”

Her eyes darted back and forth, and I could see how torn she was. “But . . .”

“Time’s up, girlie. What’s it gonna be? You coming or not?”

I nudged her. “Seriously. Go. And give me every single detail.”

She took a few steps forward and turned back to look at me. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Go!”

“I will tell him all about you. Maybe I can get him to come out here! Love you!” Without further hesitation Lexi went through the gate, and the guard locked it behind her. I watched until they’d entered the building, then decided to wait for her in my car. I turned it on, running the heater and wondering what was happening. Obviously I was disappointed, but if it couldn’t happen for me, I was glad it was finally happening for Lexi.

My phone beeped. I looked at it, expecting a text from Lexi.

It was Chase.

Aaron’s leering expression popped into my head. This was probably him. Lexi was most likely totally ignoring him and fawning all over Chase, leaving Aaron free to text Chase’s fans, pretending to be him.

A few seconds later, I had a notification on my Twitter app. A new follower.

Chase Covington was following me. Which was significant, given I had, like, seven followers, and one of them was my mom.

He sent me a direct message, which was private, unlike our tweets.

Now I knew it wasn’t him. How would Chase Covington know about my spice cookies? Aaron had just tipped his hand. Had Lexi told him? It was the only plausible explanation. How else could he possibly know? Was that what he spent his free time doing? Trolling for dates among Chase’s fans? So gross.

A few seconds later, there was a picture of Chase wearing the ball cap I’d seen him in. He was holding up a piece of paper that said, “Hi, Zoe Miller.”

It was him. He was tweeting me. My heart pounded so hard I was afraid I might have a heart attack. This was happening. And it was four in the morning. How did he still look so beautiful this early?

I was pretty sure my full name wasn’t on my account. I didn’t want anybody from school or the Ocean Life Foundation, the charity I interned at, to know about my movie-star obsession.

He followed a link? What? What was happening?

It was the only thing I could think of to say. It seemed like an eternity before he responded, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute.

OMG, OMG, OMG. Now I understood why the other Chasers constantly tweeted in all caps. I felt hysterical and giddy. Excited that I had caught his eye but freaking out as I realized all the crap I had posted on Twitter. Stuff that made me laugh, politics that pissed me off, pictures of me and Lexi in avocado masks with our hair in big rollers.

Bragging about my spice cookies.

I was going to have to go through my account and delete every single thing I had ever put up.

But it was too late. He’d already seen them. Every sarcastic, snarky, self-deprecating remark I’d ever posted.

And all the gushing ones about how much I loved him.

OMG.

Another girl, probably every other girl on the planet, would have jumped at the chance. But I didn’t believe it. He didn’t really want me to make him cookies. He was just joking. Teasing.

And maybe if my mom hadn’t spent most of her life chasing fame, I might be more starry-eyed and less of a keeping-both-feet-on-the-ground type of gal.

The person he was about to meet was Lexi. What would she think about her future husband asking me to make him baked goods? I laid my forehead against the steering wheel. I didn’t trust things I couldn’t understand.

And I most definitely did not understand this. Chase Covington could literally date any woman he wanted. He had already dated some of the most beautiful women in Hollywood. Supermodels. A pop star.

This insanely handsome man did not flirt with formerly homeschooled nobodies.

Maybe I was being presumptuous. Maybe he wasn’t flirting. He was probably just being polite. Or friendly.

Why?

And at four thirty in the morning?

It didn’t seem to matter how many times I asked the question, I couldn’t make sense of it.

Did celebrities try to punk fans? Maybe he was high. That made more sense. Then he would just forget that all of this ever happened.

Which was probably for the best. I decided to not think about his possible motives and just chalk it up to a fun experience I would someday tell my children about.

I turned on the car’s interior light and decided to study until Lexi returned. Might as well be productive instead of endlessly speculating on what Chase Covington was doing.

It didn’t really work.

About an hour later, the sun had come up enough that I could turn off the light and wait for my best friend. I saw her come out of the studio with Chase and Aaron, and she hugged each of them goodbye. I felt a swell of envy, but I tamped it down by reminding myself that I’d told her to go. She walked toward me, swinging her hips and stomping her heels like she was on a catwalk. Aaron watched her go, but Chase had already climbed into his waiting SUV.

She looked over her shoulder, and once she realized they were gone, she ran to the gate, urging the now-on-duty security guard to open it. I could see her grin as she rushed to the car.

Lexi threw open the door and jumped inside. Her eyes danced as she bounced up and down on the seat. “Zoe . . . I can’t even . . . there’s so much . . .” She closed her eyes for a second and clapped her hands together. “Okay! First things first. I have the most amazing news in the entire world. Literally. I mean, I know I’ve said that before, but this is better.”

A lump formed in my throat. If she was going on a date with Chase, I would be happy for her. I would. Because what could be better than that?

She sucked in a deep breath and then let it out, smiling at me expectantly. She wasn’t going to just tell me. She wanted me to ask.

“The suspense has been adequately built,” I said, starting to get annoyed. “What is it?”

“We, you and I, the founding members of Chase Covington’s Marabella fan club, are going to be extras in Chase’s new movie!”

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