Paparazzi || Luke Hemmings

Chapter 3: I know a guy

It's ten o'clock, and I've just arrived at  The Nice Guy. Some overly popular club in Los Angeles where famous people always seem to be getting drunk off their asses.

Going up to the bouncer, I try not to trip and humiliate my self in these three inch heels I had paired with my black dress.

The bouncer guy glares at me, crossing his burly tattooed arms over his broad chest.

I stutter, "J-johns girlfriend here." Offering him a weak smile.

His whole demeanor changes, a smile lighting up his face, and softening his hard feautures.

"Oh you must be Rosie! Tell John I say hi, would ya!" He says, grinning, and pulling back the velvety red cord for me to go in.

"Will do!" I give him a red-lipstick clad smile, and a small salute, then heading into the noisy club.

When I get back to one of the corner tables, I take my camera out of my large, fancy purse.

Then I put it back in.

My god, I'm so awkward when it comes to these types of situations.

Deciding to get up, dance a little, and try to find the guys is my plan tonight.

My apartment bill is due soon and I need to pay it. The more HQ pictures I can get, the more money in my hands.

I bite my lip, and try to look innocent, when I get swamped into the crowd of young women and men grinding on each other while holding their martini's.

Smelling of sweat and some overly expensive yet intoxicating cologne, someone comes up behind me, leaning close to whisper in my ear.

"I want a piece of that ass, girl."

I scoff, mortified, but then remember I'm not myself tonight, I'm undercover.

I'm supposed to be 'Rosie'.

I cover up my scoff with a sexy grin, turning around to see who had said that to me.

Ashton Irwin.

I stutter, once again entranced by how beautiful you never really knew someone was until you saw them up close and personally.

He doesn't realize my stuttering instead placing his long fingers on the small of my back, pulling me into the music.

His eyes are closed, his teeth biting his bottom lip. He's all caught up in the music and dancing.

Nows my chance for a quick picture. I grab my camera slowly out of my bag, still making sure to dance while doing so.

Grabbing it out and pressing on, I snap a quick picture, without the flash.

All in a matter of seconds, it's back in my bag again, and Ashton opens his hazel, blood-shot, eyes.

"Did I hear a shutter?" He asks, glancing around confused.