paparazzi // ryllon

chapter four

Dallon isn't all that he has been shown to be. He isn't someone with some sad backstory but he doesn't live a perfect life. He doesn't seem happy with his life. He loves his music, I know that, but why on earth would he move to a small beach town in Oregon?

I don't think right now is the time to ask myself that.

"How on earth could you lose your only house key?!" he asks me as we retrace the steps.

"I don't know, I must have lost it when I was at the beach or when I, I don't know, fainted?" I say, and he scoffs. I realized that I lost the key when the sun was rising, and I felt horrible about telling Dallon.

We keep looking for the small key, but after about 20 minutes of him mumbling comments about me being forgetful, we give up. We go back inside his house, back to the warmth. It's starting to rain.

"I'll just talk to the owner of these houses and ask for another key. We're gonna have to go down to Newport. Don't worry, it's not that far of a drive." His head shoots up.

"There's no way I'm doing that, what if someone recognizes me?"

"The chances of someone recognizing you would be a 7 year old girl asking for an autograph and then nothing else happening. Trust me, Newport is not a teenagers place. And even if it was, they would all be at school," I say, and Dallon sighs. He thinks.

"Fine," he says, turning and grabbing his wallet. He also reaches over and grabs a camera. Not surprised, he takes a lot of photos.

"You're gonna wanna grab a coat, it's freezing." He looks at me.

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine," I say almost immediately. He rolls his eyes and leaves the room. I stand and wait until he comes back. He hands me a hoodie.

"Come on."

The drive isn't that bad. Dallon is obviously a little uncomfortable. His biggest fan is driving him somewhere he's never been before. I wish I could calm him down. Be in one of those stories where I reach over and grab his hand or something, but I don't do that, because we aren't friends. Just a musician and his fan, nothing more, and nothing less.

"Do you like Disney movies?" I ask, deciding to break the silence.

"Don't know," Dallon says, and I frown slightly.

"You don't know if you like Disney movies?"

"I think the only Disney movie I've seen is Toy Story."

"Okay, first of all, that's Pixar, not original Disney. Second, how on earth have you never seen a Disney movie?"

"Never watched any growing up, and I don't have any younger siblings. I don't really visit family that much anyway. It'd be weird for a 23 year old man to go see a children's movie on his own."

"We're watching every Disney movie on Netflix."

"Even High School Musical?" he asks, his tone joking, but I nod seriously.

"Each one. And Camp Rock. You think I'm kidding, but I'm being dead serious, Weekes," I say, and smile when he looks at me. He scoffs, but laughs lightly. I think that's the first time I've heard him laugh in person. I've watched interviews and concerts, he barely even smiles in them.

I continue driving until we finally reach Newport. I park near the beach. Doesn't seem that busy today. Good. I don't wanna deal with crowds, even the smallest ones.

We get out of the car and I lead him back up the street. Small shops upon small shops. Middle-aged to elderly men and women walking the streets. We are probably the youngest here right now, besides a baby in a stroller being pushed by its mother.

"Welcome to one of my favorite places. Newport, Oregon," I tell him. He looks around as we pass people, not a single person stopping to turn and look at him.

"You were right about it not being a teen's place."

"I've been here for four years, I've met about five teens in that time." I smile a bit and Dallon looks at me as we walk. I try not to look at him, but he's staring at me with this look in his gorgeous blue eyes and I can't help but look back.

"What?" I ask, smiling shyly. He looks away.

"Nothing, I... I just... nothing," he says. I've never heard him sound nervous or stutter. He usually knows what he's gonna say. He's a quiet person, I know that, but he doesn't seem like the person to stutter and get nervous. He has time to think.

If I look closer, I realize that he's also blushing. Very slightly, but still blushing. Maybe it could be the cold, maybe it could be from whatever just happened. I hum and continue to walk.

It doesn't take long until we reach the cute sweets shop and step inside, a few kids looking at us. Dallon tenses, but they look away and continue doing their own things. Kids stare, that's a universal rule.

"Good morning, Ryan. How are you?" Max says as he finishes scooping a customer's ice cream.

"I'm good, is Mary here?"

"She left about three hours ago," Max says.

"Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Oh, she changed the date of her trip. She won't be back until the 27th," he answers, and I feel my heart sink. I'm locked out of my own house for two weeks.

Perfect.

"Oh... um, thanks," I say.

"Why don't you two sit down? I'll get you some ice cream and some fudge."

I look at Dallon and he shrugs. We don't have anything else to do.

"Sure, thanks," I say, and Max smiles. He has black hair and a handlebar moustache. He told me he styles it that way so kids will giggle. Everyone here is sweet.

I lead Dallon to a table and sit down.

"Someone's popular," Dallon says, smirking slightly, then looks at his camera. He takes a quick photo of me.

"I go down here nearly every day, plus, I've babysat his daughters. They're a sweet family," I say, smiling a bit. Max soon sets down to small cups of ice cream, and a little white box with two fudge squares. I thank him and he leaves. I pick up the spoon and lick the white vanilla ice cream off. Scoop of peppermint and scoop of French vanilla. Dallon takes a photo again as I lick the spoon, but when I look up, I don't think he did it on purpose.

He swallows hard, body tense, and I frown slightly.

"What?"

He stutters a bit, not being able to speak. Worry begins to fill me a bit, but he swallows and tries again.

"Nothing."