Shoot 'Em Up, Yeah.

"Take a look around the town, Aurelle. Don't you realize your faces are everywhere?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, but I really wanna quit, James. I feel like I'm a fake bitch who loves being in front of the camera, being in the center of attention."

"But you are taking people's attention. Wake up, Aurelle. One more step and you're America's top model."

"I'm not interested of being a top model, James. I wanna be myself, not a fake me that controls half of me. Being such a mannered young lady in front of peers and paparazzi, being such a very normal girl in front of some people. I just want to be myself, James. Don't you ever think about that?"

I heard a sigh from the other line.

"I know your problem. You're just being tired, aren't you? You just need a break in Hawaii-"

"I am not tired, James. I want to quit this job, period," I said and hung up without a good-bye.

I walked out of the cafe as Chicago's cold air attacked my whole body. I pulled my hood up and continued to walk.

I had enough job of being a model. 6 years since I was 15. It was fun at the first time, but it was getting annoying when paparazzi attacked as I went famous and famous. I just wanna quit this job. I kept walking until someone bumped me, hard. I fell down and looked up who was just bumped into me.

"I am so sorry," he said, offering a hand.

I took his hand and stood up.

"Thanks."

He didn't say anything for a while, studying my face. Here it goes again.

"Are you-"

"Yes. I'm Aurelie Poullin, the Italian girl who's lost in Chicago," I sighed, kowing that he'll say that. Well, strangers always said that when they saw me.

"Amazing!" he said and stuck his hand in the air. "I'm-"

"Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy," I grinned.

"Wow, you knew?"

"Of course. Everyone talks about your band and I'm secretly your band's fans."

"Secretly? Why?"

I looked around us and whispered, "Need some privacy if you wanna know the whole story. Probably there're some paparazzi stalking on me."

He nodded and followed me as I headed towards my house.

---

I sat on the bed and told him to sit down next to me. He did as I instructed.

"Are you sure letting me in when no one's in your house? I mean, we just met and you don't want something bad happens to you."

"You won't. I knew it since I saw you, since I heard your voice. And I believe you're a great secret-keeper."

"Okay. Now can I ask you why you wanna quit your career as a model?"

"What? How'd you know?"

He shrugged. "Your eyes tell it all."

I sighed and started to tell him why I want to quit my job.

"I loved it at the first time. Being in front of the camera, flashlights everywhere, you can tell I was a camera whore that time. When I get famous and famous, people start to make gossips and craps, which are not true. Because I'm Italian, people thought I'm a fancy girl who has great manners and... I don't know, one level behind a queen?

"They thought I love classic music because I'm European, but actually I love rock music. I have to pretend I'm not who I am in front of the cameras, paparazzi, reporters and some fans as I go famous. They make conclusions that I am a young lady who act like a princess. I prefer they say I am a girl who's really rude but that's me.

"I am sick of this job, being a fake camera whore and I really wanna quit," I ended, dropping my body onto the bed.

"I think you're wrong," Patrick said. "You're being fake because you think people will change their impressions about you. But they won't- well maybe they will."

"...Not helping," I muffled against my pillow.

"Do you ever think about your fans? How will they feel when you quit just like that? How will they feel when they don't see your face in front of the camera again? How will they feel when you quit when you're one step ahead to be America's top model? How-"

"Okay, I get it. Enough of how wills," I said, sitting Indian style.

"Why don't you just be yourself? You'll glow more in front of the camera when you're being yourself," he said, smiling.

"Oh yeah. Like your buddy Pete Wentz," I grinned. "He loves making faces in front of the camera."

"Hah. That guy, never stops making people laughs," he said, shaking his head.

It was silence for a while, until his phone rang.

"What?" he answered the call.

"PATRICK, GET YOUR ASS HERE-- IN THE STUDIO --WE ARE WAITING FOR YOU!" I could hear the caller shouted.

"Wow. He's loud, way too loud," I said to myself.

"Okay Pete. I'll be there in minutes," Patrick said and hung up. "Aurelle, I gotta go. I have interview in some studios with the band," he said, standing up.

"Oh okay."

He didn't say anything and kept staring at me.

"Can I have your number?" he finally said.

I smiled and jotted down my number on his hand.

"See you later?" he said.

"See you later," I said and pinched his cheek.

"Remember what I said to you, be yourself!" he said and went out the house.

Next day, photo shoot for Seventeen magazine

"Change your pose, dear!" Emile the photographer instructed.

I did as she instructed. The photo shoot ended after few shots after that. I walked towards my bag and grabbed my sidekick. No message. I sighed.

"I thought somebody wants to quit her job," James teased.

I smiled at his words. "Watch your words."

"Ooh, Ms. Sanders is being rude now."

Emile walked to me and said, "You're doing really well today, unlike days before. Something happened to you lately?"

I shook my head lightly. "Someone told me something and it changed me."

Just after I said that, someone called me and I answered it.

"Yep?" I said.

"How's the 'shoot goin?" I smiled.

"Perfect. Because of you."