Celebrity Status [1]

1.) First Impressions

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Six weird looks within the last ten seconds. I got six weird looks from the people that were passing me on the sidewalk outside of the airport.

I guess I can see why, I was dressed in skinny jeans and a sweater while everybody else was in shorts and tank tops. what can I say? A Minnesota girl doesn't prepare for California weather. I did regret it, because my clothes were sticking to me with sweat and my blonde ponytail was stringy and gross.

"Where the hell is he?" I muttered to myself, pulling out my cell phone and checking the time. "Goddamn it, Jackson." My brother was supposed to pick me up an hour ago and there is still no sign of him.

I delicately tapped on my iPhone, trying to get the least amount of sweat on the screen as possible. I put the phone half an inch away from my ear and listened to the phone start ringing.

"Hello?"

"Jackson, where the hell are you?" I snapped. "You were supposed to pick me up an hour ago and I am about to die of a heat stroke or something."

"An hour ago? You said three!" He argued.

"And it's four!" .

"Oh." He was silent for a minute. "I'll send a car for you."

"You can't just pick me up yourself?"

"Sorry, kiddo. I have a photoshoot at 4:30 and it will take me that time to get there." He said, sounding disappointed.

I sighed loudly. "Fine. Send a car. But tell them to hurry and blast the AC"

He chuckled. "Didn't dress for the Hollywood sun?"

"Are you kidding? I'm so sweaty, it looks like I ran around the Sahara and my hair is a frizzy freaking mess. California sucks." I ranted.

Again, he barked with laughter. "Alright, alright. Kale is on his way. Twenty minutes."

"Fine. I'll see you soon then," I said, setting my suitcase upright against one of the pillars of the airport and then sitting on top of it while leaning my guitar case against the side.

"Later, Sis," He said before the line went dead.

I sighed once more before pulling my Bop! Magazine out of my Vera Bradley carry on and started examining it.

'Mega Size Jackson Thorne Poser Inside!' Was on the front cover.

"Oh, yay." I muttered. "Who doesn't want a huge poster of her half naked brother? Oh, right. Me."

Yes, you heard correctly. The insanely famous teenage heart throb, Jackson Thorne, is indeed my brother. So you can imagine my excitement when half of my stupid magazine was covered in articles about him.

'Jackson Thorne's many hair styles!'

'Jackson Thorne's summer body!'

'Jackson Thorne gets a new puppy!'

'Jackson Thorne's breakup with Mindy Crow!'

I rolled my eyes. I can't believe I just spent four dollars on a magazine all about Jackson. I don't want to read about him, I want to read about-

'Shirtless Ryder West Poster inside!'

Him. That's who I want to read about. Ryder West.

I hurried through the pages and found the poster excitedly. It was a lovely picture if I do say so myself. The background was white and Ryder was standing strong, tall and very shirtless, only wearing dark wash jeans with about an inch of his Calvin Klein boxers showing. I pulled the folded up poster towards me and hugged it close to my chest as I melted into the wall behind me.

"My life is complete." I sighed.

After I had calmed down again, I found a quiz about my perfect first date. Ryder West was a date to the fair because he's fun, Tommy Kidder was a romantic dinner date because he's romantic, and Jackson Thorne was a movie date because he's sweet. I trailed my finger down the paper, answering the questions and then snaked down the page, following the trail to a new question.

When I was done, I nervously looked at the bottom and shot to my feet with a happy squeal. "I got Ryder West!" I squealed victoriously. I sighed. "We are meant to be! I didn't even cheat!"

"Did you win the lottery?" I heard a guy's voice beside me.

My head shot up to the teenage guy standing a few feet away from me with an amused smile on his face. His brown hair looked soft and pettable. God, I wanted to pet his hair. His blue eyes were sparkling with the same amusement that was found in his sexy smile.

"Uh, I- You- I-" I couldn't find any words to speak and when he realized this, his perfect eyebrows raised and his sexy smile turned into an even sexier smirk. When the idea finally bolted through me, my words finally came. "Oh my god! I look like crap!" I shrieked.

I could tell that this stunning stranger was trying to hide his laughter while my face burned red and I looked around frantically for help. When my eyes landed on a man using red scissors to cut the tag off of his daughter's suitcase, an idea popped into my head. Before I gave myself a second to second guess myself, I ran frantically over to the family.

"Can I use those scissors?" I asked frantically, not waiting for an answer before taking them out of the man's hands. "Thank you. I'll be right back." I said, running for the doors to the airport. "Three seconds, count 'em!" I bolted through the doors and into the air conditioned building, racing for the closest bathroom.

I got into the black marble-looking stall and ripped my sweaty clothes off of my body before going to work. I quickly cut the legs off of my skinny jeans and the sleeves off of my sweater, lowering the neckline as well. After I got dressed again in my lopsided shorts and ruined sweater, I got out of the stall and then took out my ponytail and shook my hair around, in an attempt to make it look effortless. Which, ironically, takes a lot of effort. I slipped my shoes back on before running back out of the bathroom and into the scorching sun.

My eyes scanned the people and landed on the family the second before I ran over to them and handed the scissors back to the man. "You're a lifesaver." I said before running back to the wall where my stuff and the stranger remained. He was now sitting on my suitcase where I had been.

"Sorry about that." I said awkwardly as the stranger flipped through the magazine.

"Jackson Thorne fan?" He asked with a small smirk playing on his soft lips. I so wanted to kiss those lips.

I snorted. "No."

"They why'd you rip the poster out?" He questioned, holding up the flimsy paper.

"It's double sided." I replied slowly.

His eyebrows furrowed and he unfolded it enough to see the other side, then let out a bark of laughter. "Ryder West? Really?"

"Yes, Ryder West." I defended, suddenly feeling like this stranger is judging me for my poster choices.

"Why Ryder and not Jackson?" He asked.

"Uh, because incest isn't really my thing." I said sarcastically. "I'm Jackson's sister."

His cute blue eyes widened in shock and he stood up . "You're Holly?"

My face changed into an expression of confusion. "Uh..." Was all I could get out. But then fear. "Please don't kill me. I have a full life ahead of me. I'm going to go to college and then get married and have little kids and then force them into sports that they hate and not let them date and- I don't want to die!"

The stranger chuckled and put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm not going to kill you, relax." He stretched out his hand. "I'm Kale." He said it like that name was supposed to mean something to me.

I nodded awkwardly. "Cool."

He rolled his eyes. "Jackson sent me to pick you up."

I gasped before my face turned into a scowl. "That little rat! I'm going to kill him! He's dead! Dead!" I shrieked.

"What'd he do?"

I huffed as I threw my Vera Bradley bag over my shoulder, then picked up my guitar case and pulled out the handle on my rolling suitcase. "I complained to him that I was gross and sweaty so then he purposely sends you."

As he led me towards the car, I noticed how his muscles flexed as he walked. Oh, and his ass. I noticed that too. He turned around for an instant and sent the world's best pouty face my way.