Star Stuck (#Wattys2015)

Chapter Nine - Failed Pickup Lines

Chapter Nine - Failed Pickup Lines

*Xavier's POV*

Even after I denied any relationship between me and Kylie, the paparazzi still pestered me about it. Why did I wish for the paparazzi to come anyway? I forgot how annoying they could be.

I never learned.

Luckily, Mr. Anderson managed to call some police officers to discourage paparazzi from the school grounds, which means that I'm safe at school. It didn't even matter if people gawked at me in the hallways or ask me dozens of questions. That was still better than what the paparazzi would do.

I even arrived at school early today to avoid running into the paparazzi. Early. Now that's dedication.

Rides to and from school were a hassle. Once I was off school grounds, I was up for grabs. I basically had to sneak out or I had to lose them by making a bunch of turns so that they couldn't follow me back to the farm. I refused to let them follow me back there.

With nothing else to do, and nobody in sight to ask for my signature or something like that, I reluctantly headed up to the library. There was some homework I could do. "Could" was the key word. I am not a morning person and homework is the last thing I'd do in the morning.

But before I made it to my destination, I felt myself being yanked into a side hallway. I didn't even have a chance to recover from the abrupt action before I was shoved into the wall.

"Why the hell are they following me?" a familiar voice hissed. "Make them go away."

It took me a second to realize that it was Kylie who was demanding answers from me. Her green eyes were flaming with anger, as usual. But this time, there was a hint of exhaustion hidden behind the fire.

With her being so close to me, I couldn't help but be reminded about what happened last time. The image of her body was imprinted into my mind.

It wasn't that I've never seen a female body before, courtesy of some acting roles I've had, but it was a different scenario where a girl was half naked in front of me and it wasn't because of a role or a scene. I didn't even make it that far with my ex. I'm not even sure why this, she, affected me so much.

I found it hard to concentrate with thoughts of her body in my mind. My voice got stuck in my throat. This was much worse than last time. Damn it. It wasn't supposed to work this way. She should be flustered by my presence, not me by hers.

Her proximity certainly wasn't helping.

"What?" I asked, not remembering what she had asked because of my distracted thoughts.

"The reporters," she enunciated clearly. "The pizza or whatever they're called again. They are following me and bugging me and they won't leave me alone. How do you make them stop?"

I almost choked on laughter when she said pizza instead of paparazzi. But I forced myself to be serious. As much as I hated to admit it, it was my fault that she was in this debacle.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news but the paparazzi aren't going to leave you alone until they get information," I said apologetically. "Either that or you have to wait it out, which may take some time."

She huffed in annoyance. "This is all your fault," she said, releasing me and leaning against the wall a few feet beside me. "I'm already sick of them and it's only been one day."

I didn't even know what to say to that. Back home, in California, the people I hung out with were already in the spotlight. My partner in crime, and best friend, is an actor as well and was used to the mobs of people. My ex-girlfriend is a singer. My PR manager takes the paparazzi in stride, without even batting an eyelash.