"I just don't think I can trust you," she told him. She ran her fingers through her long, curly, dark brown hair, and looked down at the ground. "Girls talk…and they all say that you're a player."

"I know, but I've changed, I swear," Shane said, touching her face gently.

"CUT!" the director, Max, shouted. "Victoria, you cringed again!"

"Can you blame me?" she asked sarcastically, hands on her small waist.

Max sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Let's just call it a day…you guys should get some sleep before Good Morning, America tomorrow."

"Thank God," she said, making a bee line for her dressing room and accidently bumping into Shane's arm on her way.

"Bitch," he muttered. He knew that she wasn't sorry. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if she had done it on purpose.

Victoria stopped dead in her tracks and spun around. "What did you just say to me?"

He turned around and glared at her. "I called you a bitch."

She gasped dramatically. "How dare you?"

"You can't treat people like shit just because you're beautiful," he shouted. "You're not even that beautiful…"

He was lying. She was thatbeautiful. She had the kind of hair that just made you want to run your fingers through it. She was 21-years old, thin, tan, 5'6", with the perfect body and curves in all the right places. But no amount of makeup could hide how ugly she was on the inside. Victoria St. Claire, his co-star; the girl on the cover of all the magazines, the girl all the guys wanted, the hottest girl in Hollywood…and unquestionably the meanest.

"Hey! Don't start this again!" Max screamed.

Victoria gave him one last dirty look before she started walking back to her dressing room.

I must be the only guy on the planet who can watch her swing those hips like a runway model and not feel anything but hatred for her, he thought as his eyes followed her out of the studio.

Shane had been so excited when he had gotten this part. Sure, the script wasn't that great – it was like every other romantic comedy about high school kids – but he and his band got to perform, and there was nothing better than that. He'd also been excited to star next to Victoria, especially when he found out that there was a kiss between them. But as once he actually met her, he had been dreading it; he had even tried to convince the director to write it out of the script. He had never met anyone so rude.

He flopped down onto the couch in his dressing room, rubbing his eyes. He was exhausted. They'd been filming all day, and they had to restart that scene four times because she flinched every time he touched her. He didn't understand how an actress could be so unprofessional.

"Ah-hem…"

"What now?" he asked, his eyes fluttering open to meet her stunning green eyes.

Victoria looked at him, making it clear that she wasn't any more thrilled to be talking to him than he to her. "I just want to make sure that you're going to wear a neutral color on the show tomorrow, because I'm wearing yellow. Gray would be best."

"What does it matter?"

"Because I need to be brighter," she told him, as though it were obvious. She crossed her arms across her chest, only drawing more attention to her low-cut shirt. "Yellow draws more attention."

Shane stared at her blankly. Is she serious? "Actually, I was planning on wearing lime green."

She pointed a warning finger at him. "That better be a joke, and it is not funny."

He shrugged and smiled sarcastically. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

"You're such an ass," she retorted, brushing her long hair over her should and disappearing from his sight.

That was kind of fun, he smirked. He grabbed his keys and flicked off the light switch as he headed to his car; he had a little shopping to do. He had some unique clothes at home, but he needed something outrageous that would take all attention away from her.

As Shane skimmed through the garments on the racks, he thought about Victoria. He had seen her movies – she was an incredible actress. She was a year younger than him, and she had already won an Oscar, as well as three MTV Movie Awards. He'd watched her acceptance speeches; she seemed so kind, so humble. He'd seen her interviews, and she always seemed so sweet. How could she be so selfish and stuck-up in real life?

It wasn't even that she was mean to everyone – it seemed to be mostly directed towards him. The first time they met, she had seemed fairly nice, but the next time he saw her she seemed set out to make him miserable. He knew that he didn't do anything to deserve it.

He wondered why she acted the way she did, but he couldn't think of anything that would excuse her behavior. And just to prove that she couldn't boss him around, he picked out a purple, leopard-print vest. Perfect. Nobody was going to be looking at her tomorrow morning, no matter how bright her yellow was.