Starstruck

Chapter 2*

Chapter 2

-Alyssa Taylor-

  Late. That idiot is late. Be ready at three sharp, he said. What a bunch of bull, it's already three fifteen. I scowl at the concrete sidewalk as I wait with two damaged guitars, then decide to take out his phone and see if I could get on. I guess locking his phone for ten hours wouldn't be that bad. I type in the number zero, four times and the phone unlocks. Of course, only he would put the simplest pass code as his.

  Five minutes later, after successfully snooping through his phone, a sleek black convertible pulls up alongside me. The passenger window rolls down to reveal a grinning pop star. His dark brown hair neatly styled up somewhat resembles a ski slope to me. He has on just a simple white t-shirt with a pocket on the left breast, and a dog tag necklace. "Sorry I'm late."

  "Sorry? Just like how you were sorry for breaking into my apartment and damaging my babies?" I scoff as I place my guitars into the backseat before I slip into the passenger seat.  I pass him the address of my usual music shop, but he just tosses it aside. "Uh, where are we going?"

  "I'm sorry!" He cries out, ignoring my last remark. "Plus your apartment door was technically open, so anyone could've gone in, so you're lucky that it was me." I glare at him and he shuts up.

  "So, where are we going?" I ask again, since he did not answer my question the first time. I nervously roll the flat, heart charm from my necklace in my fingers. He probably is an ax murderer.

  "We are going to my music place," He grins proudly.

  "And where is that?" I ask. Okay, he better not be taking me to some creepy warehouse and then just dump me on the side of the road. It's plausible. 

  "Calm down, no need to be so snappy," He jokes. "It's Musicology. You've heard of it right?" Of course I've heard of it; it was the most expensive music store in Los Angeles. I could save up for years and still only be able to get maybe a key chain. Okay, maybe I was exaggerating, but it was somewhat close to reality.

  "Musicology? Really?" I ask, just making sure he wasn't kidding.

  "Yeah, where else?" He shrugs. "You look really excited, though. It's weird"

  "Yeah, I've never actually been there before," I shrug. Play it cool. Play it cool.

  A few moments later, Ryan presses the button that turned on the radio. Probably to kill the awkward silence. We barely know each other and here we are. I frown and change the radio station. "Hey! Why'd you change it?" Ryan scowls.

  "I don't like that song," I state to him. It isn't that good: too many repeated lyrics.

  He switches the station back to the original and listens to it for a second before realizing what song it is, "Wait! That's my song!" He says placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. I just shake my head and stick my tongue out at him, not bothering to change the station again.

  We park a few blocks away and walk the rest of the way. Ryan, of course, is in a pair of dark sunglasses, trying not to look suspicious, and I am in a pair of aviators, trying not to look like an idiot. We walk in, me carrying both guitars, and I guess you could say that my jaw was on the ground.

  "Whoa," I gawk as I look around the store. Glossy guitars hang on the walls and sound equipment is neatly stacked in the aisles. A shelf of earphones sits near the cashier along with a row of headphones. The shop has a clean cut look with shiny red, black, and white furniture.

  "Alyssa, stop staring, you look like an idiot," Ryan says as he takes me by the forearm and pulls me to the counter. I lift both guitars onto the counter and unzip them from their cases. The guy across the counter with shoulder length brown hair looks at them with interest.