Page 3 of #Starstruck

The relief in her voice at me not freaking out and calling her names was evident. She asked me to come by before they left, and we set up a time for me to say goodbye to the kids. She went on to assure me she would give me two weeks’ severance pay, but I didn’t have much in my savings account, and I was concerned that it was late in the school year to be trying to find a job. All the on-campus ones were already filled.

I tried to process everything while she continued to talk, saying this was best for her family and how much she appreciated everything I’d done for them. She finally ran out of steam, and we hung up.

I was officially jobless.

I still had my internship, but that didn’t pay any money.

How was it that your life could change completely in such a short amount of time?

Lexi chose that moment to come bounding back into the room. “What do you say, best friend? You ready to meet Chase Covington?”

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.

---