Paparazzi Girl

3. Do You See Me?

Stella walked out of the building, the sun not in the sky anymore. She walked to her car, her eyes never leaving the sight of the beautiful purple sky hanging above, little sparks of orange flames as it tried to blend in. She got into her car eagerly, wanting to get home as soon as possible. She was exhausted. She drove towards her house that was only a few blocks away from PapCo.

Her house was painted freshly beige about three years ago. Her father was the one who had chosen that color. Sometimes, when she drove home, it brought back memories of the time they had bought the house when she was only six years old. It was a two story house with four front windows that you could see from the front yard and a white gate wrapping around the front. One of the curtains were plain, ocean blue, which was her room.

She walked towards the door and opened it just a crack, to see if her mother was there or not. She spotted her on their green couch, watching television. Her mom, Kyara, was a therapist, in the most ironic sense of the word. Stella wasn't sure how she could be one if she had problems of her own she couldn't solve. Her mom needed the help that she offered others.

"Hi, mom," she greeted with a smile as she walked towards her and gave her a warm hug.

"Hey," she said as she returned a small smile. She felt cold. She always felt cold.

"Have you eaten any dinner?" Stella asked as she looked at her drowsy eyes. She never did get much sleep, at least not lately.

She shook her head, turning her direction back to the television, watching her favorite show. She never missed an episode or rerun. Stella didn't like it as much as her, but as long as her mother was happy, she was happy.

Stella marched into the kitchen. There were four cabinets above the silver stove and oven. More memories of her painting with her dad came flooding. Her father's laugh rang in her ear and she remembered accidentally painting over her hand instead of the cabinet carelessly. The memory transported her to a simpler time where she didn't care what was happening around her, where she was or who she was with as long as it was with her dad.

The grey sink across the stove was full of dirty dishes. More memories of the way her dad taught her to wash the dishes were haunting her. She took out some white bread, ham, cheese, and mayo. Her mother and Stella have always liked it that way, simple. After she finished making a few sandwiches, she filled their glass cups with grape juice and went into the living room and joined her mother.

Home at last - or the ghost of what used to be her home.

"Thank you," she told Stella as she grabbed the plate and glass without taking her eyes off the screen.

She sat beside her and watched the television with her. Once in a while she would laugh at the jokes they told on the show. Stella couldn't help but laugh along with her. She loved the sound of laughter. It wasn't often she heard her mom laugh.

Her mom set her plate on the brown, wooden table they had in front of them after she had finished eating. Stella did the same and just stared at her for a while. She had blond hair just like hers, except hers was probably a little lighter. Stella's hair was kind of a dark blonde because her father had darker hair. Her mom's eyes were green, which is where Stella had inherited hers.

She was skinny, much skinnier than before.

She hardly ate at all, and when she did, it wasn't much. Her skin was fair and light and so was her father's. Stella thought they made the cutest couple. Her mother refused to get into the dating scene again, which sometimes relieved Stella. But every time she saw her this depressed, she wished her mom could find someone that made her just as happy as her dad did.

She brought her eyes down to her golden watch and sighed. It was already nine o'clock. That meant she had to go to bed or else she'd wake up late. It felt like a school night, although she graduated from high school months ago. She had done online school for most of her high school years.

"I should go to bed," Stella announced as she got up from the couch.

"Good night." Her mom kissed her cheek carelessly.

Stella gave her a small smile and walked up the stairs that were against the velvet wall, all the way at the corner from the living room. The stairs were covered with a pale carpet that also masked the rest of the second floor. There were four rooms on the top floor, including the bathroom. The first two were right in front of each other to the left of the staircase, the one to the right was hers. There was one all the way at the end of the hallway. That room was special. It was the room where her father had always studied his pictures and sorted them out. Like he was trying to unfold a story before him.

She paced into her room and opened the door, revealing the sky blue walls that surrounded her when she entered. She walked to her desk and sat down, taking out her camera. She flipped through the pictures, observing the perfect ones she had of Xavier.

He was handsome, she couldn't deny it. No wonder he gained popularity with such momentum. She blushed and she remembered their previous interview. He could be so cocky if he wanted to be.

She set the camera down and grabbed her pajamas that were only a pink tank top and black shorts and changed in the bathroom, brushed her teeth and washed her face thoroughly. She looked at her mirror, looking at her reflection.

What did Xavier see when he looked at her? Did he see her? She shook her head at her curiosity and opened the door, walking back into her room. She leaped onto her bed and covered herself with the sheets.

She couldn't wait until she saw Xavier again. It was a painful obsession. Every night, the same thought would come running to her.

What is Xavier doing? Who is he with? Who is he thinking about? Could he possibly be thinking about her?

She looked up to him and his success. There was something about him that connected them, or at least her.

She loved being his paparazzi.

She loved being the girl behind the camera, close enough to see him, but far enough that he couldn't see her.