Fame ***

“Scandalous Evening with Niall Horan?” Heather exclaimed excitedly into the phone. I could hear the clicking in the background, and I knew she was reading the title off an article online. “That was my favorite. But your date last night made it onto seven different gossip sites, including Perez Hilton. Your relationship with Niall is officially the talk of Hollywood right now.”

A smile tugged on the corner of my lips as I settled down onto my couch, pulling my laptop up next to me so that I could read the articles. “So they all think that Niall and I had sex, huh?”

“There aren’t many other conclusions they can draw when it was so obvious that you spent the night there and left the next morning wearing the same clothes.”

We hadn’t even kissed. Not a real kiss, anyway. But if it meant I got more press, then I appreciated the attention. “That’s true,” I agreed, pulling up Perez Hilton’s site in my internet browser.

“And I think it would be in your best interests to be seen with him again before he goes back to England this weekend,” Heather continued in a peppy voice. “It’ll make people start to root for you guys, like you’re giving a last little hurrah before he leaves, and people will hope that you guys will make it work from your different places.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll try to find a day where he’s free.”

“Perf.” There was a series of fast typing noises, probably because she was chatting with someone online, before she remembered about me. “Just let me know where you guys are going, if you go out somewhere, and I can make sure the paparazzi are waiting. Bye!”

I pulled the phone away from my ear and hung up, tossing it away from me. In the next fifteen minutes, I read all the articles I could, but they all basically said the same thing: That Niall and I spent the night in his hotel room together, and the readers could fill in the blanks about what happened *wink wink*. It was all really exciting, and many of the comments said that they thought the two of us looked cute together, which was surprising. I’d figured that all the fans would start ripping into me for going out with their precious Irish Potato, but maybe those diehards hadn’t seen the story yet. After all, they were probably in school, considering the vast majority of them were pre-pubescent.

I shut my laptop after reading the final article and picked up my phone again. Curling my legs underneath me, I sent Niall a fast text. So I was just thinking, would you want to hang out the night before you leave? A little going-away date? If you’re not doing anything, anyway.

His answer was almost immediate. The boys and I were going to try to sit in Louis’ room and order some alcohol from room service but I’d prefer to be with you if you want to hang out.

Cool. What day do you leave?

Saturday.

So Friday night at five? Will that fit into your busy schedule?

Friday’s my day off so five is fine. What do you want to do?

Are you up to going out? There’s this Italian place down the street from my apartment that’s awesome. We could eat there and then come back to my place and watch a movie.

That sounds perfect. So I’ll meet you at your flat at five?

Great! See you then.

I threw my phone next to me after the conversation and sighed. Although our first date had been completely innocent, where he hadn’t even kissed me, I wondered what the expectations on the second date would be. If he was the kind of guy that thought he was super awesome because he didn’t kiss on the first date, it was possible that he’d have a lot of expectations for the second. And I had no idea how I’d have to react to it. What if he wanted to test me to see how easy I was to gauge whether he wanted to stay with me or not? But if I stood up to him and stopped him if things went too far, then it was possible he would get fed up and leave without understanding at all.

God, figuring out the minute details of a half-fake relationship was difficult.

For a second, the thought crossed my mind that I could just let all my planning go and do what felt right in the moment. Maybe I was thinking of this a little too much as a role instead of just letting my hormones do the talking. That was what he was going to do, right? So I should do the same.

I shook my head and sighed. If I started pre-formulating every move I was going to make, just like I did when I first started acting, I was going to come across as robotic and forced. Plus, I’d make myself sick from all the stress.

So I decided to take a deep breath and semi-forget about the possibilities of Friday, and then I went into the kitchen to make myself some coffee.



“Lilah!” a reporter screamed as I made my way toward the boutique to buy something cute for Friday. “Lilah, is it true you’re dating Niall Horan of One Direction?”

“Did you two hook up on Tuesday night after you were seen going into his hotel?”

“Are you two in love?”

“Lilah!” “Lilah!” “Lilah!”

I never knew the sound of my name could get so irritating. I wanted desperately to give them a detailed description of what had gone down on Tuesday night, as innocent as it was, just to get my name in the articles again. But I had to pretend that I wanted the relationship to stay a secret to prove to Niall that publicity meant nothing to me.

Inside the boutique was quiet. As I let out a sigh and went to scan the dresses, I could have sworn the woman behind the counter gave me an irritated look. I knew it was probably temporarily bad for business to have the paparazzi parked outside her store, screaming my name and snapping pictures, but in the long run, it would probably help. After all, Lilah Monroe shopped there.

I found a few different dresses that I liked, but depending on how far I was willing to go with Niall, different ones would be appropriate. If I wanted to give him the message that I wanted to go all the way, I could buy the short, tight black number that would make my body look incredible. If I wanted to make it known that I was only up for making out, then the mid-thigh, slightly flowy polka dot dress would do the trick. And if I wanted to look like our date would be just as cute as the first, I could wear the just-about-knee length indigo dress that showed just enough cleavage to be sexy, yet classy.

After a few minutes of gnawing on my lip and debating the options, I decided on the one in the middle. It would keep the options open for the night, while still looking like I had some kind of self-respect. Which I didn’t, really, but Niall didn’t have to know that.

The woman, the same one that had given me a glare when I’d walked in, rang me up and complimented my choice before putting the garment in a bag. “Have a wonderful day,” she granted with a massive, cheesy smile.

“Thanks. You, too,” I responded with just as fake a tone.

God, I couldn’t wait for Friday.