I walked downstairs to find my parents making themselves lunch. Lately, I wasn't the closest with them, considering they were both corperate big shots and had extremely demanding jobs (which included flexible hours), but at least my mom and I got along for the most part. My dad and I didn't even talk anymore.

"Hey baby, where are you going?" My mom asked eyeing my long, curled ringlets and a floral short sundress with cork wedges and Ray Bans. My dad didn't even bother looking up from his Blackberry. I scoffed at him.

"I'm meeting someone for a job opportunity, actually." I said. I felt a pang of guilt. Lying in my bed last night after I called Simon I wondered if this was technically prostitution. Was I really a prostitute? Is this what I had come to? I refused to "do it" with Harry whatever-his-last-name-is for money- or just in general. I was newly heart-broken, and this was just part of the getting over it process. A rebound. And what a rebound I had.

"Oh wonderful! Better get going then! You need to be punctual." she stated, shooing me out the door. I grabbed my phone and Michael Kohrs purse, walking out to my car.

"And here is the #1 hit by One Direction... What Makes You Beautiful." the radio announcer said as Harry's song came on.

"What Makes You Beautiful." I said with a nod. I had forgotten their songs already, which wouldn't look good if this job opp actually happened. At a red light, I whipped out my iPhone and began downloading ONE Direction's album. See, I didn't forget it that time! I set it down so it could remain downloading while I drove the rest of the way into Tulsa.

La Brouette was packed with paparazzi. I parked my old Chevy pick-up a couple blocks away, not wanting the paps to see me meeting someone so posh in such a dumpy truck. But honestly, I kinda liked my truck. It was unique and even though it was kind of masculine, it reminded me of being a little kid again. It reminded me of when my dad and I used to get in the car and drive for hours to no where particular. We would stop at the farms in the middle of Oklahoma and hop the fences, so we could ride the horses. He would pack a picnik for us- peanut butter sandwiches and apples, always- and we wouldn't go home until we saw the farmers come out to feed the cattle. We would sing and act crazy, and I desperately missed it. Besides, I felt kind of powerful driving my Chevy pick up truck. Pent up inside my little body was a lot of feistiness and anger waiting to come out.

As I walked up to La Brouette, the paparazzi didn't even give me a second look. All eyes were on Harry as he strolled in wearing an old band t-shirt and sagging jeans with matching Ray Bans. The butterflies came again.... rebound butterflies.

A very good looking waiter came up to me as I was the first one in. "Um, hi. I'm here with Simon Cowell." I explained as I flashed him a flirty smile. Simon hadn't told me how I would get in. The waiter returned the smile. "Right this way, then." he winked at me.

I followed him up to a secluded area away from the paps and saw Simon sitting, sipping on a glass of water.

"Good afternoon, Ryann." He greeted me, standing up and shaking my hand.

"Harry. Pleasure as always." He grinned at Harry and wink, trying to sound as official as possible around someone so close to him.

"Simon, hello sir." He said slowly.

"And Ryann." he said giving a small grin and pulling me in for an awkward hug.

"Hey." I said softly, not sure how to greet him.

We both sat down and the good looking waiter same over, his eyes on me. "Why hello there. So we meet again." he flirted.

I stifled an awkward laugh, my gut was telling me Simon would not be happy I was flirting with other guys, given the circumstances. "I'll have a water and a garden salad, please." I ordered. I chose the most American thing on the menu, not wanting anything fancy or too expensive, in case I had to pay. Too bad the salad was $30 anyway.

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