I walked through the LAX airport, looking around in awe at how huge this place was. People were bustling around me in a hurry to get where they were going, bumping into my shoulder and not even saying they were sorry.

I kicked my old suitcase, to get it to stand up straight again as I wheeled it out of the baggage claim. Technically it was my Dad's old suitcase that hadn't been used in years because we never took vacations. It had been collecting dust under his bed for at least ten years.

When I walked to the transportation area where I was supposed to meet the limo driver, I saw a man in a black and white suit wearing a black hat holding a sign that said Brenley Jensen on it.

I walked up to him and said, "Hi. I'm Brenley Jensen," holding out my hand to shake his. He just looked at my hand like it was a foreign object.

"I'm your chauffeur. Right this way Madam," he said, turning on his heel and heading out the doors and I awkwardly dropped my unshaken hand and grabbed the handle of my suitcase and followed after him.

Outside of the sliding doors I saw a row of limousines and he led me over to a white one where the front of it looked like a porsche and the doors in the rear opened straight up instead of out. I took out my phone and quickly snapped a picture before getting in.

The interior was sleek and shiny and ultra modern. The seats were hand-stitched light tan leather with white interior and chrome accents. After the driver got in and shut his door, I looked around and told him, "Wow. This is a REALLY nice limo. It's way fancier than the limo Ellie's parents rented for us for Prom. Do a lot of people own limos like this out here?"

"Yes," he said without elaborating, as he pulled away from the curb and started heading down the road.

"Do you own a limo?"

"No," he said with a straight face, looking straight ahead with a locked jaw. It was obvious he wasn't very talkative.

I snapped a picture of the interior of the limo and texted both limo photos and the ones I took from the plane window in a group text message to my Dad, Dave and my best friend Ellie with a caption that said, 'On my way! 😝'

I had promised all of them that I'd send lots of pictures and update them on everything that was happening, so I figured creating a group text would be the easiest way to do that. They were all way more excited about this trip than I was so I was faking excitement for them. The truth was, I was nervous about travelling by myself to a place so far away and I'd rather just be home.

I had an anxious, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach from being in a city this size all alone. I watched the skyscrapers going by as we drove through downtown L.A. and then headed out onto the busy interstate, eventually taking an exit that said Malibu.

"Where are we going?" I asked the driver.

"We're going to Dylan Chase's house," he said, as if that was a completely normal thing to say.

"What? Now? I thought we'd check in to the hotel first and I'd have a chance to get cleaned up. I've been travelling since early this morning and I'm a mess," I said, reaching up and touching my messy bun and looking down at my jeans and baggy sweatshirt.

"I thought Melissa Dane would've told you. You won't be staying in a hotel this week. You'll be staying in Dylan Chase's guest house."

My eyes widened. "Umm. No she didn't mention that."

I created a separate group text for my three best friends: Dave, Ellie and Ellie's twin brother Spencer that said, 'Come to find out I won't be staying in a hotel this week. I'll be staying in Dylan Chase's guest house. What if he's some creepy pervert that hits on me all week?'

Just the thought of that gave me chills. This week couldn't get over fast enough.

'You could only be so lucky,' Ellie texted back.

'' Spencer texted.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

'.'

'😘,' Ellie said.

Dave chimed in and texted, ''

We pulled up to a gate and the driver scanned a card and started up a long driveway. I looked out the window and saw a humongous mansion and my eyebrows raised. I expected it to be really nice but nothing like this. It looked like a palace a royal family would live in.

"Wow," I whispered. It was dark out now and the house was lit up with a glow and the mountains and sunset could be seen behind it, streaking the sky with pink & blue.

We pulled up to the front door of this humongous mansion and that's when I realized there were a bunch of people waiting outside for me, about ten people in all. There were also a couple guys holding large cameras, the kind you use for filming movies.

I opened my door and got out and a woman stepped up to me and shook my hand and said, "I'm Melissa Dane, Dylan Chase's personal assistant. I'm the one you've been talking to for the past week."

Melissa looked to be around forty and had long straight hair that was a natural shade of dark red and bright blue eyes. She was wearing a white business pant suit with a white blazer and turquoise tank top under it with a pair of coral high heels that were about 3 inches tall. I never understood how women could wear those kinds of shoes all day. The few times I've had to wear tall heels like that I couldn't wait to get them off.

She gave me a warm smile full of bright white teeth as she shook my hand.

"Hi" I said, giving her a smile and saying, "It's nice to meet you."

I looked around at all of the other eyes that were locked on me as I let go of her hand.

"Who are all these other people?" I asked.

"Oh this is the film, photography and sound crew from the 'Spill the Tea with Tammy' show and they'll be getting footage for the segment showing what it was like for you to live like a star for a week. The movie studio sent their own crew over too."

"So they're going to be following me around and filming me?" I asked, feeling my heart pounding harder as I swallowed hard. "All week?"

"No. Not ALL week. Only during certain outings and important moments that we need footage of. Didn't you read the paperwork you signed? It was all in there," she said, like it was a dumb question.

I decided not to throw my Dad under the bus and tell her that I didn't sign any paperwork so I just laughed awkwardly and said, "Guess I must've skimmed over that part."

Melissa took a deep breath in and let it out, rolling her eyes.

"Did you read ANY of the paperwork?" she asked.

I looked at the stern look on her face and reluctantly said, "No" very quietly.

She let out an aggravated sigh and said, "I'll get you another copy so you can read all the details you should've already read. Right now we need to set up the shot of you meeting Dylan. This is the director from Spill the Tea with Tammy. His name's Scott," she said, before just walking away without a goodbye.

Scott was a tall, skinny middle aged man, wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans and he was going bald and had the start of a beer belly.

I looked at him and said, "Hi," holding my hand out with a smile.

Scott didn't shake my hand or even turn to look at me. He just reached up and pressed on something in his ear and asked, "Is Dylan ready?"

Then he nodded and said, "Okay he's ready! Places everyone!"

I ran my hands over the blonde fly-aways that were sticking out all over the place around my messy bun from the California humidity and travelling all day and I looked down at my plain clothes, a pair of faded jeans, a baggy sweatshirt and old tennis shoes. If I had known they'd be filming me meeting him without a chance to change at the hotel I would've tried to fix myself up a little bit this morning before I left.

I raised my head and noticed cameras pointing in my face and I saw Scott motioning for me to come forward and he whispered, "Go knock on the door."

As I walked forward slowly the cameras were right in my face, documenting my every move and it was so awkward. I lifted my hand and knocked three times, letting out an exhale and looking down at the ground.

The door opened and there was Dylan Chase, all 6'2 of him.