Fame ***

“Thank you,” I said kindly with a mega-watt smile to the barista behind the counter at Starbucks when she handed me my drink. It was nonfat, of course, but if Niall asked, I’d say it was full-fat because I was a girl who likes to treat myself. My image didn’t matter to me, and if the tabloids wanted to call me fat because I gained a couple pounds, then it was their loss, not mine.

I could tell that Niall wanted a girl who was genuine, sweet, and down-to-earth. At least, that was how he appeared to be in any interviews he did. He was clearly one of the strange people that never let fame go to his head. And if he wanted a girl who was truthful and genuine, then that was what I was going to have to pretend to be.

I scanned the place quickly, hoping to God that I’d see Niall sitting somewhere. After all, that happened in all the bad fan-fictions, right? Where the girl walked into Starbucks and happened to see one of the boys, completely security-less, and the two fell in love immediately? It was unrealistic, but it was sweet, somewhat, and it would be extremely convenient just about then.

But his little blonde head was nowhere to be found. Frowning, I parked myself in a table and took a sip of my hot drink. Although I tried to make it inconspicuous, my eyes kept flicking toward the door, watching and hoping desperately that Niall would show his adorable, boy-ish face.

And soon, it happened. The door opened, and the familiar blonde appeared, visible roots, cleft chin, and all. He was wearing a pair of khaki pants that were sitting too low on his waist and a white t-shirt that looked crisp and clean. I figured that he probably got someone to do his laundry, since there was no way a straight teenage boy would know about the invention of bleach.

For a second, I thought about calling out to him, but I knew I’d do nothing but gain some negative attention for myself. So I waited patiently until he had his coffee in hand and turned to leave. And then, as his eyes brushed by me, I raised a hand and waved, gesturing for him to join me.

He seemed conflicted about the option before sighing and walking toward me. As he drew closer, I noticed that he had a couple whiskers on his chin that desperately needed to be shaved off. I would have pointed it out with an irritated glance, but I figured we weren’t close enough to do that. We’d only spoken once, and I didn't know what Harry had told him about me.

“Hi,” Niall greeted uneasily. He stayed standing next to me, and I noticed that his hands were shaking subtly. Why my presence made him so nervous, I had no idea. It wasn’t like I was going to stab him or anything. At least, not literally.

“Hey,” I replied, smiling sweetly at him. If this plan was going to work, I had to make him warm up to me. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

“I don’t think I can stay long,” he mumbled. “And, look, I want to get something out in the open, if you don’t mind.”

“Please do,” I responded, even though my eyes narrowed very slightly in irritation.

“Harry warned me that he thinks you’re using me,” he explained in that thick Irish brogue of his. “And I think you’re absolutely beautiful, and I want more than anything for you to be interested in me for real, but I’m having trouble believing it. So tell me the truth right now. Are you going to use me to get some publicity for yourself?”

I put on a horrified face before shaking my head. “Niall, can you please sit down for a second?”

He seemed to hear the slight wavering I put in my voice because he pulled out the chair across from me and planted his butt in it without needing any more convincing.

“I’m telling you the truth right now,” I insisted as I locked my eyes on his bright blue ones. “I would never use somebody for fame like that. It’s cruel. And I swear to God that I didn’t use Harry at the awards show thing. Like I told you before, I just misjudged how much chemistry we had, and the paparazzi happened to be outside. I had nothing to do with them being there.”

There was a short pause, so I continued to talk. “And I am really interested in you. I think you’re cute and sweet, and I think I need somebody like that in my life. But if you really feel, deep down in your heart, that I’m just using you for fame, then please don’t take a risk with me. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me, okay?”

He seemed to ponder the option for a very long time, his free hand that wasn’t wrapped around his coffee cup drumming a mysterious beat on the table top. But finally, he stared into my eyes and said, “Then why don’t we exchange numbers?”

I reached immediately for my iPhone and slid it across the table to him. “I just want to say, though,” he started slowly as he typed in his number, “that I’m still not completely sold. I’m deciding to believe you for now, but you’re going to have to earn my trust.”

“I understand,” I agreed. “Like I said, I want you to feel secure, going out with me. So take all the time you need.”

When I took back my cell phone, I sent him a text with my name immediately. “Just so you have my number,” I replied simply. “I have to go now, since I have to choose a script by tonight, but if you’re free later, maybe you can text me?”

Niall nodded. “I’ll see what I can do,” he allowed. “Bye, Lilah.”

“Bye.” Shooting him one last smile, I made my way outside the restaurant, weaving through a large group of friends that were giggling at some joke that I hadn’t heard.

The second the warm L.A. sunshine hit my face, my smile increased ten-fold. I couldn’t believe it had been so easy to convince the little sucker that I wasn’t using him for publicity. Granted, I had to keep up the act for a while longer, until he felt safer around me, but I could put up with that. It was all about the long-term goal, anyway, not about how long it took to get there.

I could wait as long as I needed to.

When I got back to my apartment, I settled down on my couch and pulled out the three scripts that were waiting to get read. I hadn’t been lying when I told Niall that I had to pick one by that night. And since all three were getting filmed at the exact same time, I had to be careful of my choice. If I chose the wrong script, and the movie flopped, my career would be down the toilet, Niall or not. But I hadn’t been wrong yet, so I had confidence in my abilities.

The first one got scrapped right away. It was some cliché Romeo and Juliet storyline, except the lead man would be a Martian whose people were planning to take over Earth. I was so not into sci-fi, and I had no idea why the director even thought about me for a second when planning his dream cast.

Both the last two scripts were solid. One was about a girl who went to college and discovered her love for writing, an introspective kind of character who met the lead guy when she was people-watching and taking notes on conversations in a shopping mall and he noticed that she was “spying”. The other was a Rachel Berry kind of character, loud, cocky, and talented, who transferred to a new school and tried to take over the school’s choir and, throughout the movie, learned about what it means to be part of a team.

In the end, I picked the first one, mostly because I couldn’t carry a note in a paper bag. And although there was always Auto-tune, I didn’t want the media picking apart the fact that my voice sounded like Ke$ha’s and that I had no talent.

After texting Heather about my decision, she sent a fast reply that said she agreed whole-heartedly with my choice and she’d let the director know.

Settling back and resting my phone on my stomach, I turned on the television to watch some trashy reality shows and wait for Niall to pluck up the nerve to text me.

Phase One was complete.