Reluctantly Famous

by Heather Leigh

  Reluctantly Famous

  By Heather Leigh

  Copyright © 2014 Smashwords for Heather Leigh

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1310939365

  First Edition, License Notes

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

  Chapter 1

  Allie – now

  I swear, if I were my brother, I’d have murdered every single tabloid reporter by now. Literally murdered them. I’d be sitting in jail in my hideous orange jumpsuit with a big ol’ smile on my face because it would have been totally worth it. Those intrusive bastards would have had it coming to them, each and every one.

  “Miss.”

  My daydream vanishes and I’m back in line at Logan airport, waiting to board my flight to Heathrow.

  “Sorry,” I tell the ticketing agent. “I was spacing out.”

  “No problem. I need your passport.”

  I hand it over the counter and wait for it. It’s coming, it always does… in 3, 2, 1…

  “Forrester? Any relation to Andrew Forrester?” The agent’s eyebrows lift and her interest in me perks up.

  “Nope. If only, right?” That’s my standard line for that question. Turn it into a joke, laugh, smile, and pretend it’s funny so she’ll let it drop.

  “Yeah, that would be something,” she says, laughing as she hands me back my passport.

  It works every time. It helps that we don’t look too much alike, just hair and eye color. Otherwise, my life would be a nightmare.

  Just like it was in college.

  Allie – then

  “C’mon Allie! I don’t want to get there so late that all the hot guys are taken.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming. Geez, Beth, I can’t speed walk in stilettos you know.” I scowl at the back of my roommate of two months. She is steadily pulling ahead of me as we make our way from the freshman dorms at Boston College to an off-campus party nearby.

  Beth turns around and glances at my footwear. “You know we have to walk everywhere, Al. Why on earth you insist on wearing those things is beyond me.”

  I throw a pout in her direction, annoyed by her dig at my shoes. So what? I like designer shoes. My brother knows I like them, so he sends them whenever he gets a chance. Well, he probably has his bitchy assistant, Kelly, send them, but still. I left most of them at my parents’ house. If Beth knew how many pairs I really had, she’d shit a brick.

  I haven’t mentioned my super-famous brother, actor Andrew Forrester, to anyone at B.C. yet. One, it’s nearly impossible to casually work that into regular conversation. Two, my roommate, who has also become my best friend, is obsessed with celebrities.

  Drew made me promise not to tell anyone at college that he’s my brother. He threw a freaking hissy fit until I agreed to his stupid overprotective demand. I don’t really get that, I mean, I went through four years of high school with everyone knowing who he was. He said it’s different when it’s the people you grew up with, that they don’t see him as a celebrity. Whatever. I’ve followed his stupid rule and kept my mouth shut and my family photos hidden, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Being famous looks like fun, I don’t see why he cares if I get a little attention out of it.

  “Don’t make fun of the fashion, Beth.”

  She laughs. “Allie, I swear you’re gonna trip over those things and get run over by some asshole Boston driver.”

  “I grew up here, Beth. Don’t forget that I know exactly what drivers around here are thinking. I’m well aware that they’d treat me like a speed bump and never look back.”

  “Here it is.” She stops in front of a six-story brick building.

  “You know this guy, right?” I check out the apartment complex. Nice-ish area, well lit, not run down… it’s as okay as it gets for student living in a town as expensive as Boston.

  “Yep. He’s in my econ 101 class. We’ve hung out a bunch this semester.”

  “Okay,” I shrug. “Let’s go.”

  If I only knew, that’s the last thing I would remember from tonight.

  Holy freaking God!

  Someone needs to stop poking my brain with an icepick. I attempt to move, but the icepick becomes an enormous sledgehammer that smashes into the side of my head.

  “Unnnghh!”

  My limbs are too heavy to shift them, so instead I try to look around to see where I am. Tiny shards of glass stab into the backs of my eyeballs when a sliver of light filters through.

  Struggling to keep my stomach from heaving, I force my eyes open to find myself on the floor of my dorm room.

  “Thank God.” I whisper so I won’t hurt my own head.

  “Shhhhhhh, stop yelling.”

  I would turn towards the hoarse voice that just spoke, but I recognize my roommate Beth, even in her post-drinking state. Plus, it’s just too damn painful.

  “What happened?” I groan, rolling over onto my back, wincing when every inch of my body protests.

  “Beer, shots, party…” Beth’s voice is raspy.

  “We shouldn’t do that again.”

  “I agree. Crap, Allie. It feels like I swallowed an entire bag of cotton balls soaked in tequila.”

  Despite my excruciating headache, I laugh. “Oh shit, don’t make me laugh, Beth. I’m gonna throw up!” My arms flop to my sides uselessly.

  “Thank God it’s Sunday,” Beth groans. “There is no way I’d be going to class today.”

  “Me either.” Too weak to get up, I snatch a sweatshirt off the floor and cover up with it so I can curl up and go back to sleep.

  “Al. Al. Allie. Allie!”

  “What?” I sit up and my head spins briefly, then thankfully stops.

  “It’s getting late. The cafeteria is going to close soon. We should eat something to settle our stomachs.”

  I look up from the floor at Beth and grimace. “What time is it?”

  “It’s seven.” She slides off her bed and quickly changes into jeans and a loose shirt.

  “Seven? Wow. We slept all day.” I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Okay. Yeah, we should eat.”

  “Get dressed then sleepyhead.” Beth giggles and throws some clothes at me.

  Amused, I pull on yoga pants and a tank top, quickly yanking my hair up into a ponytail. “Let me brush my teeth first. No way can I eat with this nasty taste in my mouth.”

  Beth chatters about a guy she met at the party our entire way down to the dining hall at Corcoran Commons. “… so then Nate asked me if I wanted to see him again and we traded numbers.”

  “That’s cool, Beth.”

  I had so much to drink last night, I don’t remember Nate or if he’s cool. Hell, he could have two heads for all I know. To disguise my lack of memory, I pretty much agree with everything Beth says, nodding my head as she talks.

  My stomach lurches when the scent of food hits me. “Let’s just get bread or something,” I tell her as we enter the cafeteria.

  “Good call. I think I’d barf if we got anything else.”

  We get our food and a couple of Sprites to settle our stomachs before we grab an empty table. The large room goes quiet around us when we put our trays down and sit. Glancing around the room, I notice quite a few students staring at us or speaking in hushed tones.

  I slide into my seat and whisper to Beth, “Is it me or is everyone in here acting weird?”

  “Huh?” Beth snaps her head up from her phone. “Sorry, I was texting Nate. What did you say?” She sips on her Sprite and stuffs a hunk of bread in her mouth.

 
“The other students… are they…” I peek up from my lowered lashes, “staring at us?”

  Beth scans the room and shrugs. “Who gives a shit? Maybe they think we’re hot?”

  I make a face and she cackles like a maniac.

  “Okay, so we look like crap. Whatever.” She continues eating, completely unconcerned with the rest of the student body.

  “You’re right, I’m being stupid.” I finish eating my bland meal, wondering if I’m overreacting. A nagging voice in my head won’t let it go, but I pretend everything is fine as Beth regales me with stories about Nate all the way back to our dorm.

  We both still feel a little tired and out of it the next morning, but I haul my butt out of bed anyway. It feels like I’m moving in slow motion as I shower and get dressed. Once I’ve had some coffee, I start to feel more human and less like something the dog spit up.

  As I trudge across campus to my first class, I wish I had remembered to wear my gloves. November in Boston is a crapshoot. You could get a rare snow dump or you could get temperatures as high as sixty degrees. Today is just mind-numbingly cold.

  “Right there, that’s her.”

  “No way!”

  “Yes, I told you.”

  The crisp air and the residual hangover must be messing with my brain, because I keep hearing people whisper whenever I walk near them. It’s creepy, almost as if everyone’s stopping and staring at me. I shrug it off and hurry to class, not wanting to be late. My chemistry professor is a real dick if you show up after class starts.

  I open the door to the huge lecture hall that houses freshman chemistry. The room falls completely silent. I mean completely silent. I can feel my cheeks turning red. The hot burn made worse by the frigid temperature of my skin. Humiliated, I keep my eyes down and climb the stairs to my usual seat near the top.

  The whispering starts the second I sit in my chair. People keep spinning around, sneaking glances at me. One or two people looking at me I can handle. A three hundred-seat lecture hall filled to capacity? My heart begins to race with anxiety. I don’t like being the center of attention.

  Dr. Shen enters the classroom and flicks on the machine that projects her computer onto the large screen. The class quiets down immediately. Dr. Shen is an intimidating force of nature. She’s been teaching freshman chem for years. One look from her has even the bravest student wilting in humiliation.

  No one talks, but the quick glances continue throughout class. If I wasn’t so far from the door, I’d have left halfway through. Unfortunately, I’m stuck feeling the eyes of my classmates crawl on my skin for an entire hour. Once the hour is up, I jump out of my seat, ready to bolt for the exit.

  “Allie?” I look up and see an unfamiliar girl talking to me.

  “Yes?”

  She smiles. “I thought so. I’m Karen, do you want to hang out?”

  “Ummmm, maybe some other time, Karen. I have another class.”

  “We could exchange numbers, that way we’re friends.” She pulls her phone out expectantly.

  “Uh, okay.” I reluctantly give her my cell phone number and she immediately texts me so I’ll have hers.

  “Great! I’ll see you!” Karen bounces down the steps, meeting up with a group of girls that are noticeably waiting for her. They all glance up at me, then back to Karen and giggle.

  What the fuck is going on?

  The icy air smacks me in the face as I run out of the building. I have half an hour until my next class, so I decide to grab a coffee at the Hillside Café to warm me up. Within seconds of leaving chemistry, the creepy feeling I had earlier comes back. It honestly feels like everyone on campus is either talking about me or staring at me or both. Head down, I double-time it to the café, determined to get my skinny venti mocha, regardless of these assholes.

  It’s so warm in the coffee shop that I sigh with contentment. The welcoming smell of brewing coffee draws me right in. I’m about to get in line when several girls approach me.

  “Allie, right?”

  The three girls are smiling like I’m supposed to know them. “Yes. Who are you?”

  “Oh, I’m Viv, this is Stella, and that’s Tess. We’re having a party at our apartment on Friday, you should totally come.” She watches me like a hawk follows its prey.

  “Yeah,” the one called Tess says. “It’s going to be killer.”

  “I uh…” What in the hell is going on? “I’ll have to get back to you.”

  “We’re here everyday at this time, Allie, so just find us,” Stella says, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

  “Oh, okay. No problem.”

  They shuffle off, heads together as they leave the café.

  I think I woke up in the Twilight Zone.

  “Order?” The tired barista waits for me to speak. “Allie, it’s you!”

  “Do I know you?”

  Is this becoming my new catch phrase?

  She smiles, her cheeks reddening a little. “Nah, I just recognized you.”

  Huh. Okaaaay. “Can I have a skinny venti mocha?”

  “Sure! Coming right up.” She turns to her coworker. Allie wants a skinny venti mocha, hurry. It’s four dollars and fifty-five cents, Allie.”

  I stare for a moment before handing over the money and taking my drink from the way too excited guy making the coffees. “Thanks.”

  He waggles his eyebrows as he hands it to me. “My pleasure.” The way he says it makes my skin crawl.

  My original plan had been to hang out here until my next class, but I feel kind of uncomfortable, so I decide to walk to class early. More people stare, more whispers follow me, it’s so awkward that I’m literally at a loss as to what to do.

  Screw this shit. I turn on my heel and rush back to the safety of my dorm. This is just too bizarre to deal with early on a Monday morning. I’m about to reach the entrance to my building when someone calls out my name.

  “Allie!”

  Cringing, I glance up to see who’s yelling for me. It’s a tall, good-looking guy. His cheeks are red and he’s winded, as if he just ran all the way across campus.

  “Hey, I was hoping to catch you.” His breath puffs out in misty clouds between us.

  I can’t hide the sarcasm. “Well, lucky you.” My patience is all used up for today.

  “Yeah,” he agrees, oblivious to my snarky attitude. “Do you want to go out sometime?”

  “What?”

  “A date. I’m asking you on a date,” he repeats, showing me perfect rows of white teeth when he smiles. His blue eyes are blazing with confidence and something a little less honest, more sinister.

  “Do I know you?” God, I’m beginning to despise that phrase.

  “Maybe, I’m Troy White.” He’s still giving me that perfect fake smile, all teeth and dimples.

  I stare at him blankly. My face must be obvious, because his confident expression begins to waver. The darkness hidden by his wholesome looks takes over.

  “You must not be a football fan.” I shake my head no. “I’m one of the wide receivers for our team.”

  “Oh. Do we have a class together or something?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Well how do you know my name?”

  Troy throws his head back and laughs. I can’t decide whether it’s charming or creepy. “You’re cute. Here’s my number.” He hands me a piece of paper. I close my hand the torn scrap without looking at it.

  “Ummmm, thanks?” What the hell?

  “Call me.” Troy grins and jogs off to wherever the fuck he’s going, leaving me stunned by the front door of my dorm.

  Exhausted and perplexed, I run upstairs and shut myself into my room. This morning has been the weirdest day of my existence. It’s like I woke up this morning with a giant spotlight on my head and a neon sign with my name attached following me everywhere.

  “Allie!”

  Oh dear God, no more.

  Beth flies into the room and slams the door shut. “Allie!”

  “What
?” I snap, too tired for any more stress.

  “We have to talk.”

  Why do I feel like my life is about to spiral out of control? Probably because it is. I should have been a psychic.

  Chapter 2

  Declan – then

  I cannot believe that I agreed to do this. I’m standing, half-naked, on a New York City street, with a bunch of other half-naked dudes, while women come up to us and treat us like walking, talking Ken dolls.

  “Oh my God, Jill! Look at this one!”

  “Are these abs for real?”

  “I would do each and every one of these guys.”

  “Mmmm-mmmm, you’re all so fine.”

  You’re raised to think women are shy, timid, the fairer sex. In my twenty-three years, I’ve been quite disappointed to find that completely untrue. Women can be just as juvenile and horny as men. Sometimes, I think they’re worse, like being a girl is a get out of jail free card for being flat-out rude.

  A brave woman comes up to me and flicks a finger over my exposed abs, trailing it down the ‘v’ cut to my waistband.

  “Sorry, no touching.” I say it with a smile, even though I really want to scream.

  “Hmph,” she grunts. “You’re supposed to stand there and look pretty, not speak.”

  Seething with anger, I know my neck and face are flushing red. I can feel the heat burning into my bare skin. My boss’s words come back to me, ‘be polite, smile, no snapping at the bystanders. You’re selling a product’.

  I keep up the pretense, using as much acting skill as I can muster. “That’s what we’re doing ma’am, looking pretty, so you can look. Not touch.”

  Her shrewd eyes narrow, obviously not happy with my statement. She walks away, nose up in the air but at least she’s leaving. Frankly, I’ll take what I can get.

  Never in a million years did I think being ‘pretty’ would feel so damn crappy.

  Declan – then