Starstruck

Chapter 1*

Hi guys so this is my new story Starstruck :) I really do hope that you give this story a try. Hope you like it also since I love it so far :) and it's gonna be coming this summer hopefully by then I would be finished with Double Trouble but I probably won't be :P

Vote & COMMENT do it do it dooooo it or not...

*this will probably be the only top authors message. Started in March/April 2013

OHHHH AND as of 12/29/13 I will be changing the tense from Past to Present so yeah I'll mark the chapters I've done with a * and then when it's done I'll remove it :) Thank you 

**actually this story kinda sucks so read at your own risk aka it could've been better now that i think about it. it needs a lot of editing lol 1/14/16

Oh wow look at that another authors message bc I'm a mess 

Anyways this story is currently being rewritten bc like me it's a mess so it's gonna be a while until new chapters start popping up. 9/29/16

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Chapter 1

-Ryan Fox-

  Shit. Shit. Shit. I turn to see the paparazzi behind me, screaming my name. Any second now there's going to be a mob of fangirls. Paparazzi are always going to ruin my fun. I'm frozen. Suddenly, my feet don't know how to run. I gotta get the hell out of here.

  "Ryan!"

  "Just one picture!"

  "Mr. Fox!"

  "Ryan, sing for us!"

  "Ryan Fox!"

  I snap out of my trance and look around; there is nothing but gray buildings-nowhere to hide. Okay, options are keep running or hide in the oh, apartment complex. That wouldn't be the best idea. I panic. Okay well, fuck it, I'm going in.

  I crouch down behind a green, leafy bush in front of one of the apartments and wait for the paps to pass. Hopefully, they would just keep running. Hiding from paparazzi isn't that hard as they aren't that bright.

  "He went this way!"

  Are you kidding me? What does a guy need to do to get away from the paparazzi these days? I slowly stand up out of my hiding spot and accidentally bump into the door behind me. The door leisurely opens, just a crack, and a sly grin spread onto my face. Hmm, open door while I'm running from the paps? Looks like a sign to me.

  I slip into the apartment, reassuring myself that I'm only going to be here for just a moment until the paparazzi leave. I gaze at the interior. Nice place, I guess. A small cream sofa sat up against the olive painted wall with a glass coffee table before it. A modern rug was lying underneath it all giving the living room a cozy finish.

  Wait, crap, do I hear footsteps? Just to be careful I sneak into the closet near the door. I run my hands along the wall before finding a light switch. The closet, which was relatively larger than your average coat closet, held a ton of things, but a certain something catches my eyes.

 Two guitars, a ukulele, a keyboard, a percussion box, tambourine, and some recording items. All the other crap in this closet doesn't matter to me. I pick up one of the guitars off of the ground and touch the strings. Pretty good condition, but the question is, who the heck lives here? I place the guitar back on the ground, but my fingers accidentally brush the strings sending sound waves from the guitar. I instinctly press my hand down on the strings to stop the noise. I let out a sigh of relief, I didn't hear any footsteps, so I pick up the next guitar.