"I can't do this."

"Yes you can!"

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

We had been going back and forth like that for a while. It was a small Help Wanted sign that was hanging out of the window of our favorite TV station's office that had started the argument. Peter looked at me in annoyance, and I took a deep breath. He was my best friend, and yet I didn't trust him when he said that he thought I wouldn't get this job. He'd made that point so many times in the past week, and finally, I had followed him down the hot California streets to reach the station, and then refused to go in. He grabbed my wrist and put my hand near the doorknob.

My ultimate dream was to marry my favorite actor, Richie Gilbertson, but my current goal was to get a job in television. I'd been running my own business since my early teens, and apparently, the help wanted was corporate help. Peter said he thought I'd be perfect for the job. I felt that the little sign was a joke, this being one of the biggest stations in the country, but it still aroused interest in both me, and Peter.

"Do it," he commanded me, glaring at me as if he was my father. "Do it now."

"But what if I don't make it? What if I'm not as good as you think I am? I've known you forever. what if it's different to them?" I contested.

"Who cares? You're still the best in my book, and, besides, you might get to see Richie Gilbertson while you're in there."

"Yeah, sure," I said, rolling my eyes. I sighed deeply again, glancing at the cute little sign hanging in the window next to me. Reluctantly, I twisted the doorknob, and opened the door. Peter pushed me all the way in, and closed the door shut quickly, preventing me from any escape. I turned away from the door with a smile on my face, looking down the hallway, at the gray, bland carpet, and the blank, white walls. I was expecting a little bit more, but I guessed that this would have to do. I strolled down the hallway to find the room that they had indicated when we'd called. I opened the door, and made my way in.

Peter was waiting for me when I came out. He looked at me with anticipation. He looked more anxious than I was. "Well?"

"Well?" I responded.

"When will they tell you if you made it?"

"They already did," I responded.

"And?"

To be continued...

"I didn't make it..." I said, looking at the rocky pavement at my feet. I could see Peter in my peripheral vision, as he leaned in to hug me, but I bit my lip to stop from smiling. "...in the job I was applying for. They think I'm going to be a great addition on their new show!" I screamed. Peter backed up quickly, his mouth gaping open, apparently at a loss for words.

"Sam, that's... that's awesome!" he said.

"I know, right?" I smiled. "I went in for the normal job interview, but it quickly turned into an audition! I'm so excited!" I gave a little jump up and down. Peter smiled back. His face looked a little bit disappointed, but it could've also been really surprised me, too, when I heard the news at first.

As we walked home, I told Peter about the show and my role. It was a total drama type show, and I was one of the main characters. I was the poor turned rich love interest of super millionaire Horace Richards, and daughter of the jealous mom, Michelle Green. It's supposedly going to be the best show the network has decided to do, and sure to be a spontaneous hit, so they're trying to get it on the air as soon as possible.

"Wow," was all Peter could say. I really don't think he knew exactly what to say. I mean, this was really really big! "So, will you still be my roomate, then?" he asked.

"Definitely. If anything, this means we're getting a new apartment, buddy!"

"Noo, I can't let you do that."

"Why?"

"Because, Sam, that means I can't pay my fair share of the rent," he said.

"As if you do anyway," I laughed. We got to the apartment building and reached our floor. From the end of the hallway, we could notice two pieces of paper at our door - one on the wall, and one on the floor in an envelope. We walked quicker in anticipation of what they could've said.

The one on the door even made my mouth gape open.

"This-this can't be happening," I stuttered. On the door was a huge, red eviction notice, staring us right in the face.

"But I actually paid this month's rent!" Peter gasped.

"You mean the rent you missed a few months ago," I muttered. He didn't respond. He just knelt down and picked up the envelope that was on the floor.

"Okay, if you thought the eviction notice was unbelievable, guess what curve ball is comin' for you now," Peter said. His face was just blown away.

I snatched the letter from his hand, and stared at the front.

Open this soon, Samantha.

-Richie GilbertsonMy hands began to tremble, and I put my back against the wall, sliding down onto the floor, and spreading my legs in front of me. "This is all happening too fast," I said, resting my head in my hands, and glancing beside me as Peter slid down next to me.

"You know what I think?" he asked, looking at me with those trusting eyes of his. He always cared to share his opinion. I sat up straighter and turned to him, propping myself up on my arm.

"What do you think, Pete?" I asked, smiling.

"I think that what ever is happening...at least for you... it's just the beginning," he said. He smiled. I wrapped my arms around him, swaying back and forth, and closing my eyes, hoping to stay there. He patted my back, and I honestly did feel like crying. When would be the last time that we got to sit out in front of what was no longer our apartment and be together like this? Maybe my parents were right - maybe we should've gone to college.

"Well, whatever is happening, you're coming with me," I smirked. He bit his lip. I wasn't sure if he fully believed that. He snatched the letter from my hand. "Hey!" I cried, snatching it back.

"It's sort of taking you too long. You have a letter from Richie Gilbertson and it's taking you, like, an hour to open it!" I glared at him for a second, tearing open the seal slowly on purpose. "Hurry up!" he said, pushing me.

I finally finished tearing open the seal, and then slipped the letter from its pocket, throwing the envelope onto the ground.

My newest co-star,

I heard that you got cast as latest co star and decided to get your address and stop by so we could meet and really get each others' vibes. Apparently you're not home, and probably won't be coming back for a while (eviction notice). I know how an aspiring actor can struggle so if you're looking for any assisstance just stop by. You'll know where to find me.

-Richie

"No... way," I said. "There is no way in hell-"

"You're starring with Richie Gilbertson!" Peter screamed. We squealed together. This was unbelievable. "And you know what that letter means, right?" Peter asked, giving a small smile. I thought for a moment.

"No, Pete, we can't do that. He was just being nice."

"Oh, what's a couple of new roomies going to hurt him in a big mansion like the one he's got, huh? One room in his whole house is probably as big as two of our apartments! We won't bother him."

"You freeloader," I replied, looking at the carpet. Peter was already getting up and brushing himself off. He pulled his key out of his pocket.

"I'll pack. You... you stay out here. You're the newest television star," he winked.

"Not just yet..."

Richie Gilbertson's house is definitely the biggest house in San Fransico, if not the biggest in California. Everyone knows where it is because it sticks out so much among all of the city buildings around it. It's one luxurious mansion among all of these apartments. Richie says that he likes things "different".

We pulled up with all of our stuff in the backseat and the trunk of my car. Of course, there was ultimate security, and a huge gate with a buzzer at the front. I got out with my shades on top of my head, and a tank top on with jeans. Peter reached out and grabbed my hand, holding it tight as we walked up to the buzzer together. He pressed the button.

"Gilbertson residence," said a voice on the other end.

"It's... Samantha... Samantha Barnes... from the new..." I said. Before I could finish explaining myself, a tiny gate to my right opened up just enough for one person to walk thorugh at a time. I gave a little excited smile at Peter, and then proceeded to go through.

The grass was unbelievably green, as expected, and the house was so large that I couldn't even see the whole thing just standing on the front lawn. We stood on a yellow brcik pathway that led up to the enormous, regal door of a creme colored house lined with columns.

"This is..." Peter began. We were having trouble finishing sentences today.

"Amazing," I finished for him, squeezing his hand and dragging him on towards the front door. I rang a door bell that had a loud tune that sounded fit for a palace like this one.

To my surprise, Richie himself answered the door. He was young, about five years older than Pete and I, and his blonde hair was gelled into spikes. He stood tall, buff, and confident, with a relaxed smile on his face. "And you must be my co-host, I presume," he said, gesturing at me, and, grasping my hand, kissed it lightly. I could feel myself blush. "They picked a nice one. And who are you?"

"That's my old roomate," I said.

"And?" Richie asked.

"Well, he, just... came along," I answered. "You said you wanted to meet me and-"

"That's right. I said I wanted to meet you. Help you. Heaven knows where he's been," Richie said, looking at Peter with disgust.

"Excuse you," Peter interrupted, clearing his throat.

"Excuse who? Remember who's mansion you're at, buddy. Remember that I have cameras all around here and about a dozen security guards that can pounce on you at a snap of my fingers," Richie said, putting Peter straight, and glaring at him witha n intimidating stare.

"Um, guys..." I gave Peter a little nudge with my elbow. If he wanted a roof over his head, he was going to have to be quiet. "Anyway, you said that if I needed any assisstance..."

"Oh, right. Well, I saw where you had an eviction notice on your door, and, trust me, I can relate. See, before this big mansion, there were several other mishaps on the road to stardom. So, I'm willing to let you stay here for a little while," Richie said kindly, giving me a wink. I couldn't help but smile at him.

"Well, we have our stuff in the car-"

"We?" Richie's eyebrow raised. "I said you. And only you. I told you, I don't want the scum of the earth living in my house."

"Hey, hey hey!" Pete cried. "Enough. Come on, Sam, let's go. We don't need your help, Gilbertson." I looked at Peter with wide eyes. We actually did need his help. Very badly.

"Be realistic Samantha. Run away with Mr. Alley Cat Childhood Friend No Good or stay in this enormous, luxurious castle with me? Easy decision."

I stood there, glancing at the two, and then my gaze slid down to my shoes. This kind of decision shouldn't be put on one person.

"Come on, Richie. You can't let him stay in my room? I promise he won't bother you," I pleaded.

"Look, I can just not take both of you. Is that what you want? Now, get in the house, or scram," Richie responded, decidedly. He wasn't giving up. I had to make a decision.

"I love you, Pete," I said. "But I need this. All of this, and Richie's help. I-"

"Enough said," Peter said. His voice was wavering, and he was looking at me straight in the eye, glaring me down with anger. "I've stood by you through the dumbest situations. I've held your hand when evven your own mother refused to. And you're leaving me now once some stupid pervert that you've never met comes along. You know what? Don't bother calling me ever again, and don't even think that I'll call you. Just stay here in this house and hope to never see me again, because, I guarantee you, you won't." With that, Peter stormed away.

"Pete, I'm sorry! You would've done the same thing!" I yelled after him.

"Think about the other times when I could've! Just think about it!" he yelled back without even turning around. The gate opened, and swallowed him whole. I turned to Richie.

"You've made the first correct choice toward super stardom, sweetheart," Richie said, and put his hand around my waist. His hand started sliding further and further down. I reached behind me and grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand back up from my butt.

"You're letting me stay here for free, right? No strings attached?" I asked, just making sure that he didn't expect anything from me that he wasn't goingn to get.

"Yes. All of this... for free," Richie smiled, giving me yet another wink, and he turned me inside, toward the foyer of his mansion, and a butler hurried to close the door for him.

A long banister curved toward the ceiling and formed a balcony up above. Marble floors with checkered black and white boxes covered the ground under our feet for ages, and a long hallway extended so far in front of me, that what looked like a back door with a window inside of it was just a tiny speck.

"Now, i can show you to your bedroom... that reminds me... would you like to stay in your room or my room," he asked, his eyebrow raising, and his hand slipping again. I turned to face him, escaping his hold of my waist.

"My room," I said. He put two of his fingers delicately under my chin and tilted my head up, grabbing my waist again and pulling me in towards him.

"Did I mention how beautiful you are," he said in a creamy, soft voice that made my breath stop and my whole body numb. I looked into his eyes. He was hypnotizing. I couldn't move.

"No... no you didn't," I stuttered.

"That little Peter boyfriend of yours couldn't treat you like this. The show's taping on Tuesday. Are you going to be ready to be my wife... by then?" he whispered, inching closer to my face. I thought the right thing to do was to pull back, but I felt like I was melting in his arms. My dream was coming true, after all, and he was definitely adorable.

He pulled my chin to his lips, and he held me, as I indulged in a sweet kiss with Richie Gilbertson. Was this for real?

Unbelievably, life started to move a little bit faster after that point. I successfully moved into Richie Gilbertson's house, and into my own room. I got pretty comfortable - until about a week after we'd started shooting the show (which was now officially called "The Strangest Places".

I had become used to Richie's cheap shots at me, and playful, flirty comments. He said that it helped im get into character when we finally got on set. But, I couldn't help but feel a little bit of tension whenever we were very close. We ate dinner together, though, and I actually talked to him sometimes, and he seemed to be an okay guy. He seemed to be someone that I might actually be able to befriend.

This particular Wednesday, I had invited my friend, Amanda, who plays my sister on the show, over to play a little bit of pool. We were spending the night wasting our time a bit for the sake of nothing better to do. Once we got tired, and I had beat her so many times that she couldn't lift the stick out of disgust, we slumped down against the wall in exhaustion.

"So, what's it like living with the country's most eligible bachelor?" Amanda joked, smiling at me.

"Just like living with any other guy in the country," I said simply, sighing. We sat there in silence for a moment.

"Say what, does he have a good sense of humor?" Amanda asked, her eyebrow raising a little. I'd come to know that this meant just a little bit of trouble. She propped herself up on her arm and gave me a michievious look.

"I dunno. Never tested him," I shrugged, giving a little smile back; I was up for anything I was so bored.

"Let's give him a little spook," she said with a giggle. "Something chilling."

"Ice cubes?"

"Ice cubes."

We giggled on down to the kitchen, like the two little girls that we were. I secretly hoped that a prank like this wouldn't get me kicked out of the house, but I doubted it would. Richie had a good sense of humor, and I knew he had a little crush on me. It was funny how the desire to have him died down after I'd actually known him for a while. We wrapped some ice cubes from the freezer in paper towels, putting our fingers to our lips to let the maids know to be quiet, as they looked at us as if we were up to no good (although we weren't).

We tip-toed around the house until we could hear Richie's voice, talking on the phone inside one of his lounging rooms. We waited outside of the door until he was through, and then we'd get him.

"Yes, she's still staying here," I heard Richie say to someone on the other end. My brows furrowed and my grip loosened a bit on my ice cubes. "No, I haven't gotten her in bed yet...What do you mean?...Oh, it'll happen...By the time you get up here, she'll be long gone...Yeah...I know...Bye."

By the time Richie had hung up the phone, Amanda and I were looking at each other in confusion. I took in one last huff of breath, and dropped my ice cubes, a pool of water soaking into the carpet as I ran down the hallway, and to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" a butler stopped me when I reached the door.

"I'm leaving. Tell Richie he can throw away my stuff if he wants. I can find some place else to stay where I'm valued a little more," I said, about to continue until the butler stopped me again.

"We have orders not to let you leave," the butler said simply.

"Wha?" I began, but just held my head in confusion. Why does a multi-millionaire want to keep a fringy girl like me locked up in his house when he could have any beautiful movie star in the world. My legs collapsed from under me in frustration.

When I came to, I was lying in a bed with Richie leaning over me. I shrieked.

"Don't worry. I promise I won't rape you," he said, annoyed, and rolling his eyes.

"What's wrong with you you pervert?" I cried at him.

"What's wrong with me? You're the one that just passed out. I thing there's obviously something wrong with you," Richie said. He stood up from kneeling by the bed, and I was throwing the covers off of me, standing up and dusting myself off as if he might've given me a disease or something.

"What was up with that phone conversation?" I asked him, looking at him suspiciously, and walking slowly towards to the door to make sure he wasn't trying to trap me.

"Oh... Amanda told me that's why you ran. Look, Samantha, stop being silly. I'm Richie Gilbertson. Come on. The only reason you're here is out of the kindness of my heart," he said, walking closer to me.

"I knew something was wrong when you kissed me...," I mumbled. "And how you're always hitting on me, and..." Richie put his finger to my lips. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me, you freak."

"Okay, so I think you're a... nice looking.. girl, Samantha, is that a bad thing?" he said, a little quieter than before. I turned the doorknob that I had grasped a few seconds ago, backing out of the doorway. "I can't..." he reached for my hand.

I ran down the hallway, jumping on the banister arm and sliding down, reaching the bottom in seconds, and then looking up at him as I backed away. "Then, why can't I leave and come as I please? Why do I feel like you're trapping me, Richie, for all the wrong reasons? Why do I feel like I shouldn't be here and that I made the wrong decision?"

"Look, Samantha, some... things... you'll find out in due time, okay? Do you always have to know everything at once?" he asked, storming down the stairwell towards me. I kept backing up.

"Well, if it applies to me..."

"Look," Richie said, walking up to me quickly and grabbing my wrist firmly. "I don't know why you're mad at me - I don't know what you heard. But I have a weakness. I know this. And I can understand if you want me to back off. I will. Just... don't leave me," he said. His eyes pleading for forgiveness. I have to admit, I didn't understand him at all. He was the most confusing television star... well, the only television star I had ever met in my entire life. And, although his words seemed a little bit, well, unreal, they seemed all the more sincere. There was nothing in his demeanor that made me sense any hint of fakeness, and yet the words didn't seem to be coming out of his mouth and into my ears. His grip loosened on my wrist, and I turned around to face him.

"I... won't leave," I decided, shrugging. "Besides, they said they'd give me my paycheck at the end of the season, remember?" I laughed. He smiled, too, his perfect teeth shining like pearls against his tan skin.

"You're so beautiful," he said simply. About a week and a half ago, I would've relished these words, but right now Richie just seemed a lot more like a big brother to me. I needed to sort this all out. I decided after I would have to talk to Amanda about it tomorrow (she's been friends with Richie longer than I have). Before I could say anything back, we were interrupted abruptly by a tall, slender modelesque woman that burst through a door leading from a hallway.

"Richie!" she screamed, stomping her long legs against the floor. She looked angry... and familiar. Her face was red hot with anger, and I watched as Richie's face turned from admiration to fright, and finally, embarrassment. The woman turned to me. "And who are you?"

Then, it hit me. This woman was the famous model, Milana Yokovich, who had graced the covers of every top magazine in the country - in the world. She was even more beautiful in real life. She had long, brown hair, that shone even in under the artificial light of the chandalier above us. Her sparkling hazel eyes were pierced with anger, and then, once she saw me, shock. Her tan skin was golden and flawless with her delicate features. She gasped when she laid eyes on me. "Matt was right! You do have a little slut living here with you!"

"No, no I've been trying to tell him-" Richie began. All I could do was stand by and stare. Since when did I become the gossip of A-list celebrities?

Then, Milana began to whine, and almost cry, I think. "Richie, all those times, all those things you told me! And now I learn this tramp is living here and I was supposed to live with you! We were going to have kids and-"

Richie looked like he was in pain. Milana just began rambling next to him, talking about how he'd said he loved you, and how they'd been through so much together. I could tell that, by the way things were going, she wasn't going away any time soon. Richie rolled his eyes, and then looked at me, mouthing behind his hand Help here? Please?

I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry, Milana, but, Richie and I... we're... um..."

"Engaged," Richie smiled. He walked over to me, putting his hand around my waist, and holding my hand the softest he'd ever held it before. I gulped. This was not good.

Milana looked up, her eyes wide, but I noticed that her face was completely dry, and her makeup was all in place. She squinted her eyes, looking from me, to Richie, and back to me again. Then, her face when from shocked, to angry. "So, girl, have you hit the hottest clubs yet? I heard the Pacific club is the best this time of year," she said somewhat casually.

"Um..."

"Samantha works with me," Richie responded for me. He was better at dealing with these situations that I am.

"I see," Milana said shortly, and I could she a small smile for at the corner of her mouth. "Well. You should really get out more... Samantha. I guess I'll see you later. Good luck with your-"

"Milana," Richie called to her, letting go of me, and taking a step toward her. She raised an eyebrow as she turned back just a little, her long, graceful body still headed toward the door. "Please. Don't tell anyone about this, will you?"

"Good luck with your engagement," Milana said. "I have some matters to attend to." She headed toward the door agian.

"Milana!" Richie yelled, but the door slammed, echoeing throughout the room. Richie blew out, feeling back his hair with his hand.

"Well, at least she's gone right?" I said meekly, looking up at him. He looked up at me.

"If you thought that was bad, wait until you see what's coming up next. I'm keeping you here for your safety, Samantha. But I'm afraid you can't stay here for long. You've got to get out of here. Milana just wants me for my status. But she's okay with just making me, and you for that matter, suffer in place of it," Richie explained, pacing the room.

"But... I don't really have any money yet... and, besides, how am I going to buy a place to live nearby so quickly?" I asked.

"Look, Samantha, I really don't want you to leave. I can't have you leave, but I don't want you to suffer for covering for me. There are only a few options you have right now, though," Richie said, still pacing.

"Why are you so intent on making me stay? And, what are my options? It can't be that bad," I shrugged.

"I told you - somethings you can't know just yet. As for options, well, you could be swamped by paparazzi by a fake rumor spread my Milana. You could move out somehow. Or... you could... marry me."

"What? Marry you?" I asked incredulously. He couldn't be serious. I know I probably looked crazy, my mouth wide open, and my lip hanging in astonishment. "That's a little bit drastic. I'm not in love with you, Richie. I think it's best with dealing with the paparazzi."

"You wouldn't be able to handle it," Richie said. He had stopped pacing and turned to me. "It's like a battlefield out there. They'll never leave you alone as long as you're living here, and they'll believe we're engaged even when we're not and just make up stuff. But, if we give them something real to talk about, it'll be painless." I shook my head. He was speaking nonsense. I licked my lips, thinking about the possible ways to break it to him - there was no way in hell that I was getting married to him. I looked at Richie, looking back at me with a worried expression. The next thing I knew, he was down on his knees, nearly bawling at my feet.

"Samantha! Please! I'm begging you! I need a wife, badly. My agent says that my image is getting overdone, overplayed. I need to change myself completely or else I'll be dropped!" he cried. Then, he got a little paranoid. He was shaking a little, looking around his house, twitiching his neck from side to side. "And, then my salary... it will diminish... My house, my cars, my reputation...everything. It will all be gone," he explained, looking up at me with puppy dog eyes. I wondered exactly how good of an actor he was.

Looking down at him, though, my heart couldn't help but feel pity for him. His whole demeanor had changed from one that I thought was tough and yet caring, to almost effeminate, and sensitive. I wasn't sure about the whole thing, but I guessed that this was probably an opportunity of a lifetime. Maybe an engagement wouldn't be so bad, and I could always back out once I'd finally decided.

Soon, Richie was down on one knee, and he had taken my hand in his delicately. "Samantha..." He kissed my hand. "Will you marry me?"

I paused. I hesitated. "Yes."

The next thing I knew, Richie was on his feet, wrapping his arms around me, kissing me on the forehead, on the cheeks, on the lips. And yet, I didn't feel anything like fireworks like I thought it would if this happened a few weeks ago.

Richie was right. The show aired with a bang. TV interviews, premieres, and photo shoots filled our days, and I rarely saw the mansion anymore. The paparazzi ate it up, and there were suspicions that our engagement was what the show was riding on. I was so busy, however, that I never really got to think about any marriage plans. Once, I went a whole two weeks without even laying eyes on Richie, my fiance. The only reason that I got to see him is because we both got invited to a premiere on the same day, and our agents thought it'd be a great photo-op for people to see us together. We put on our most perfect smiles, and strutted down the red carpet.

After the premiere, of course, there was a party. Richie escorted me to the party, into the dark club, with all of the celebrities, and the music blaring around the dance floor. The adrenaline began pumping through my blood. I began to want to dance, and I stroked Richie's arm a bit, trying to pull him onto the dance floor. He sort of shook his head, not responding really to my requests. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for someone. And then, that's when I saw her. Again.

"I knew I would run into you some time.

I gasped. Suddenly, the room seemed so small, all of the people disappearing, and the music blaring lourder than ever. My heart leaped out of my chest and seemed to almost bleed with pain. It wasn't the sight of Milana emerging from the crowd to rest her eyes on me, begging for a dance with Richie Gilbertson. No, it was who she had tagged along as her date that almost made me want to cry.

"Glad you could get out of the house some time. I'm sure you both have met this gentleman before," Milana smiled sweety, patting the arm of Peter, whose eyes and mine met instantaneously. I couldn't distinguish whether the looked he gave me was full of pain, regret or anger. He was a confusing guy. "He's the next singing sensation I discovere myself." Milana smiled on, her menacing grin clawing at my insides.

"You liar," Richie said, rolling his eyes. "You didn't discover him. Besides, I thought you'd made so much money off of that whole engagement scandal you wouldn't need to fish out some poor girl's ex-boyfriend. I knew you just wanted me. You wanted me all along," Richie said, rolling his eyes.

They bickered for a second, eyes rolling, toungues spitting clever insults, and Peter and I standing there, wondering what we were doing among all of this confusion. Then, the next thing I knew, Milana had grabbed Richie's hand, and he was telling me he'd be back in a second. They went off to dance for a bit among the masses. Peter and I were just standing there, afraid to move, afraid to say something, and worried that if either of us said something first, we'd be at a disadvantage. I couldn't take it anymore.

"So... what brings you here?" I asked him, glancing up shyly for a second. I kept his eyes down at his shoes.

"I knew it was too good to be true. A supermodel promising to get me connections out of the blue... I knew it was impossible. I guess I just wanted to catch up to you," he said, shrugging, and shaking his head. "Have you... have you thought about me?"

That quesiton pulled at my heart the most because I knew I should've thought about him more. But the sight of him here brought back the feels all at once, ten times more intense than the last time we were together. "Yeah," I replied simply, suddenly regretting the months I'd spent with Richie just a little bit. Although my career had taken a huge leap, I couldn't help but feel that I was missing something all along.

So, we walked. We filled each other in on the parts of our lives that we weren't there for, and made the time that had passed almost nothing compared to how we still knew each other so well, and the connection that was still there between us. We walked around the club, through the halls that led to the many rooms, and decided to check into one. They were soundproof, and we didn't want any disturbances. There were too many things to discuss, and not very little time to discuss them. We walked along the dark hallway behind the main dance floor, with the painted black doors and the signs that either tell us whether the room is vacant or occupied. We finally got to a door that was cracked open a bit, and decided to take it. I reached for the doorknob.

"Wait," Peter whispered, taking my wrist gently. He looked into my eyes, looking deep off into them and melting me more than Richie could've ever done. "We're still friends, right?" I looked back at him, wondering about those words, as I refused to answer, and turned the knob anyway. As the door opened slowly, we both peeked into the room. A couple were on top of a couch, making out, and totally oblivious to anything that might be happening. My eyes got wide as I recognized the faces of Richie and Milana. My feet picked up from under me as I ran away, too embarassed and disappointed to confront anyone or anything that I would have if I had stayed. And as I ran, I could've sword I felt a presence following me, getting closer.

My breath was getting heavy, and as I turned, I realized that I had made my way into a dead end alley, several blocks from the club. I knew that this wasn't a safe place for me to be this time of night, as the moon rose overhead, and my heart was racing from both exhaustion and panic from the situation. The thoughts in my head kept my fear occupied, though. I wondered whether I was more afraid of rejection or being mugged.

A hand rested on my shoulder. It was warm, and I could tell that it belonged to a man. A man I possibly... loved? I turned around to reveal my hidden savior, and ended up looking into the eyes of Richie Gilbertson. His chest was heaving from having chased me here. I jerked my shoulder away from his grip.

"What do you want?" I asked fiercely, backing up.

"Milana...You...I...," Richie stuttered.

"I don't want to hear it, Richie! You lied to me! There is no excuse... no excuse... Why areyou doing this to me? Why did you do this to me?" I screamed at him. I had backed up all the way, and I had made it all the way pressed against the concrete wall of the dead end. Richie was coming closer, slowly, but taking long strides with his legs, until finally he was so close that I couldn't back away. His hand fit around my waist like he usually did, but this time, it was different. He looked into my eyes, but this time it was different.

"Samantha, you have to understand something..." I stood there, wanting to hear what he had to say, but not wanting to witness the feelings that came after it. "Okay, so in the beginning, I was using you. When this all started, Milana and I both were playing games. But you're matured me. You've made me realize that I'm too old for that. And that love... well... it isn't always in beautiful, luxurious, A-list supermodels. The sincerest love can be found in the strangest places." He smirked a little bit out of the side of his mouth, and leaned in, clutching me with both of his hands and pressing his lips against mine, eventually getting deeper into the kiss, and we stood there, my mind running around frantically, searching for answers, and Richie, apparently, having found his.

Finally, I took my hands and pushed him away, against his chest, turning my head away. When I turned back, looking beyond Richie's head, I looked to the end of the alley, and squinted my eyes to see clearer in the darkness. I smiled.

"It's funny, Richie, because over this whole thing, I've learned the same exact thing," I said, sliding from under him as his look followed me with bewilderment, and I ran the fastest I ever have to the end of the alleyway, and leaped.

And as I knew he would, Peter was there to catch me.

The End