All's Fair In love, War, And Hollywood.

Chapter 4

While Rock Star may be crazy, but he was evidently not a liar-liar-pants-on-fire. He really was famous, and people were indeed looking at us. I knew the guy though he was hot stuff, and while Ashton was easy on the eyes , I didn't think every woman in the place had to let him know they thought so too. With his stylishly cut dark hair, and the greenest eyes I'd ever seen, and drool-worthy physique, he looked the part of the star he claimed he was. Yeah, he was hot. But I wasn't one to drool over looks. But evidently, other women were. Every single female in the place was looking at him hungrily. And a few men, too. Hey, this was L.A., even gays are welcome.

We were sitting at a table in Providence, some snazzy high-class place with some weird looking food. But for such a classy place, the patrons weren't acting very classy. They all looked at Rock Star as if he was some sort of god. I thought of him as the crazy drunk psycho. He must have been rich as well as famous, this place was extravagant. He really didn't have to take me to such a nice place, I was a simple person, a cheeseburger could make me happy. God, now I was craving a cheeseburger.

"Rock Star, you think this place has cheeseburgers?" I asked him, genuinely curious. Also, to diffuse the tension that everyone staring at him had created. I wasn't a fan of tension. He looked at me with disbelief.

"This is one of the most exclusive and best rated places in L.A., and you want to order a burger? A burger?" He looked at me as if I'd grown three heads. Clearly, that was a no, then. What was so strange about liking a cheeseburger? Unlike my mother, who thought things like burgers were too 'common' for her, I appreciated good ol' American cuisine like a juicy burger.

"Yeah, I want a burger. Surprise, I actually like a good American burger now and then, Rock Star." I narrowed my eyes at him. So what if I liked burgers? That was normal. Not that my family would think so. My mother though food like that was too 'common,' and the whole family were total health food nut, which pissed me off sometimes.

"Let's not fight, how about that story you promised me, princess?" Ashton pulled his prince charming routine, that boyish smile and happy eyes. He was good at that. I did promise him the story. It was the least I could do for the guy, he'd been nothing but kind to me.

"Okay. It all started when I was fifteen, and I had a fight with my dad." I began my tale, starting from the absolute beginning. I was vague, I really didn't want to air the Kensington/Collin's dirty laundry to a guy I didn't even truly know.

"What was it about?" He interrupted me. I gave him 'the look'. You know, the look that said 'I'm telling a story, interrupt me again and I'll kick you where the sun don't shine, buddy.' I wasn't going to give him more than that. If he thought otherwise, he was sadly mistaken. He seemed to get the message well enough. "Sorry, Lyra. I'll let you tell the story."

"To answer your question, I come from a... influential family. " I stated vaguely. I didn't like flashing the family name around, people treated you differently when you were wealthy. And strange as it may seem, I was enjoying Ashton's company, I liked how we could just talk, there was no heaviness to it. We could just sit down and have fun, something I hadn't done in years. I'd missed it. I didn't really trust him yet, but he didn't seem like a bad person. And I owed him my life, telling him my story was the absolute least I could do. "Go on, princess." He urged gently.

"I promised you my story, so here it goes. My Father is a politician, and my Mother was a wine heiress that took over the family business. We attended stuffy parties where people showed off all their power, where people networked. The cream of the crop would drink and show off how great they all thought they were. Those parties were torture, hell. One day, I refused to dress up and go to one of those stuffy things. I have an older brother, Liam, he didn't like going to those parties either. But he put up with them, because he wanted to follow in my father's footsteps and go into politics. I had nobody to go to. So, I ran away." I stated this all simply, emotionless. I paused, letting him take it in. That wasn't even the sad part.