Chapter 1

"Starstruck! Camera flashes, Cover of magazines (Whoa Oh Oh) Starstruck! Designer sunglasses, livin' the dream as a teen…" Great, I had only been home for 5 seconds and I could already hear… him.

"Him" is teen pop star Christopher Wilde. If you asked me to describe him in 5 words, they would be, "A Big Waste Of Time".

If you asked my sister Sarah to describe him in 5 words, they would be "The Love Of My Life".

Sarah was the one watching his latest music video in the living room, for about the 20th time today. She is seriously obsessed with the guy. She has all 3 of his albums, a DVD of every interview he's done in the past year and a half, and not 1, not 2, but 59 posters of him in her room.

Being the nice little sister I am, I normally would have just ignored it. But the thing is, today was the last day of the school year, and I do not want another summer of Christopher Wilde 24/7. So I just walked right in front of the TV, figuring she'd get the message.

She didn't.

"Jessica!" she whined.

I decided to play dumb. "Oh! I'm sorry, Sarah. Am I blocking your view of What's-His-Name?"

"Mmm-hmm," she said, annoyed. "Move it, or lose it, sister."

I rolled my eyes and gave up. I needed to go pack for L.A. anyway. We were going to leave first thing the following morning.

I was pretty happy when Mom and Dad told us we'd be spending the summer with Grandma in L.A. I figured maybe without the rest of the Christopher Wilde fan club around, Sarah would tone down her obsession, even just a little. No such luck.

"In less than 24 hours, I'll be in Los Angeles, where Christopher lives!" she squealed excitedly. Then her face froze for a second. "What if he picks me up at the airport?"

"Why would he do that?" I asked, and instantly regretted it.

Sarah started reciting her list of all the reasons, which soon became one of her rants on how she should be Christopher's girlfriend instead of Alexis What's-Her-Face. I just headed upstairs to pack. If this kept up, it was going to be one lo-o-o-ong summer.

* * *

It was the night after we had arrived in L.A., and so far our vacation had been pretty relaxing. Oh, of course Sarah was still going gaga over Christopher Wilde, but I hadn't seen her call anyone in his fan club or text him at all. That is, until now.

After dinner, I went upstairs. I walked past her room and knew right away that something was up. First off, she was pacing so much I felt a draft from the bottom of the stairway. She also wasn't wearing the bight yellow tank top, jean skirt, and black flip flops she had been wearing all day. Instead, she was wearing a feathery purple dress with matching sandal heels. She looked as if she was going to a party. Turns out, it was that Alexis girl's birthday and there was going to be a special performance at her party by (who else?) Christopher Wilde. She was convinced the only way Mom and Dad would let her go was if I tagged along, which was probably true, but still, I had absolutely no interest in going to some big Hollywood birthday bash. I turned her down at first, but agreed to go with her after she promised that if she met Christopher at the party (like that would happen), she'd shut up about him for an entire week.

Now that I think about it, a week wasn't very long. I should have waited for her to make it at least 2. But I was desperate, so the next thing I knew, I was in Sarah's car on the way to a major Hollywood club.

Thank God there were no parking spaces left. That way, I could stay in the car while Sarah got her "party on" as she liked to word it. She told me she wouldn't be very long, and hopped out of the car.

I waited 20 minutes. No Sarah. I waited another 20 minutes. Still no Sarah. I waited another 20 minutes. Still no Sarah! I was beginning to worry. I decided to go in and look for her. If we got a parking ticket, it was her fault for staying in there so long.

I walked up to the front of the club. When I saw the huge crowd there, I knew there was no way I was getting in from there. So I turned around and headed to the back of the club instead. But just as I approached the stage door, it opened suddenly and hit me in the head. Oh, fuck.

"Did I just hit you?" someone asked.

"No, the door hit me by itself," I replied sarcastically. By now I was pretty pissed off. I mean, first my sister drags me to some Hollywood club and makes me wait for an hour in the car. Then I actually have to go in the club to get her (and I'll probably get a parking ticket, too). And now, I get hit in the head by some ignorant guy opening a door. What kind of idiot can't hear someone's footsteps just outside a door? I wonder.

And then I realize I hadn't even seen who had done it yet. I look up and I see… him.

Shit. He's actually hot.