by Hayes Grier
“It’s the featured story of the site?” Violet grinned.
“Yeah, so it will get even more hits. It’s all over the fanfic stratosphere!”
“This is so weird.” Violet shook her head. People were actually talking about her writing. They liked it!
She flopped onto Mia’s bed to think, letting her cousin get back to her design. A million thoughts ran through her head … Hayes … Coco … TJ … And what about the fan fiction?
Violet scrolled through her website messages, reading more comments. Clearly, people wanted her to keep going, to add more to the story. She hadn’t really thought about continuing—or even putting it out there to begin with! (Thanks, Mia.) But it was out there. She couldn’t take it back. And maybe she wouldn’t want to anyway.
It was anonymous. No one knew the writer was Violet Reeves, wannabe screenwriter. And any writing teacher would say it was important to keep writing, no matter what. If you were blocked in one form, try another.
Readers didn’t know she was Hayes Grier’s assistant, and had an up-close glimpse into his life. So it wasn’t really an invasion of privacy—right?
Right, she told herself.
So it wouldn’t hurt to add a bit more … see how a relationship between Hayes Grier and a regular girl—like Violet—would play out in “real life.” She went into her room and turned on the laptop …
… The whole school buzzed with excitement. Prom was in just a few weeks, and it was all anyone could talk about. Who was going with whom? What was everyone wearing?
And how great was the theme, people crowed. The ’90s! The decade of the original Full House! And those adorable Beanie Babies stuffed animals!
Luckily Violet had watched a lot of movies from the ’90s. She was almost an expert.
Back then, everyone dressed like they were part of a grunge band in flannel shirts and torn jeans. Should prom-goers incorporate that look into tuxes and long gowns? Should they practice the Macarena? There was going to be a dance contest, too, with one lucky couple winning a day at the amusement park at Santa Monica Pier.
Yes, everyone was talking about prom. And the biggest question on everyone’s lips: Who would Hayes Grier go with? The night was fast approaching, and Hayes hadn’t made his move. Plenty of girls had turned down dates, hoping Hayes would ask them, hoping they’d be the ones to slow dance with him to romantic songs by Mariah Carey.
Then, finally, word got out. Today was the day that Hayes would ask a girl. Each time he walked into class, the room fell silent.
Will he ask someone now? people wondered. In history? In bio? In Healthy Cooking/Healthy Eating?
Crowds parted to let him through the halls, eyes watching his every move. When he stopped, everyone held their breath. When he kept going, they sighed.
“Hi, Hayes,” girls cried after him. “Hayes! How are you?”
Just after the bell, Hayes walked past a row of lockers. Everyone peered over their shoulders as he passed. Finally, he slowed, then paused. “Hi, Rose,” he said.
“It’s the new girl,” someone whispered. “The one with that dog who jumped into the river.”
People edged closer, unable to resist watching.
“How’s Fred doing?”
“He’s fine,” Rose answered, her face turning a pretty shade of pink. Rose was too new to be in on the school gossip. But even she knew what this meant. The guy every girl wanted for her date was going to ask her to prom. Her!
Hayes reached into his backpack, slung casually over one shoulder, and drew out a single perfect red rose. “I saw this and thought of you,” he said. “And I thought it would be the perfect way to ask: Will you go to prom with me?”
Feeling faint, Rose leaned against her locker. But the door was open, and she fell back. Quickly, Hayes reached to steady her and kept his arm around her shoulder.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I’ll go.”
The hall erupted. Boys cheered. Girls groaned with disappointment. Hayes Grier was taken.
At prom, Hayes and Rose spent every minute together. They talked quietly by the drinks; they went from table to table, saying hello to friends. Then they moved to the dance floor, jumping and bouncing to a series of hard-rocking songs. Then, finally, the band played a ballad. They melted against each other. They swayed back and forth, barely moving.
“This night has been perfect,” Hayes murmured in her ear. “And the most perfect part is being here with you.”
The prom lights dimmed and …
Violet straightened with a start, her writing interrupted by wind chimes, doubling as a doorbell. She glanced at the time. It was after seven. She’d been writing for hours.
Then her door creaked open. “Violet?” Mia poked her head in, trying to hold back a grin but not quite succeeding. For one irrational moment, Violet thought Hayes had come to the house.
Mia swung the door open wider, and Jay walked into the room.
Violet quickly closed the laptop screen. “You’re here to see me?” Violet said, surprised. Mia stepped away, leaving Jay standing alone.
“I hope this isn’t a bad time … I know it’s kind of late…” he trailed off uncertainly, and Violet hoped she hadn’t sounded rude.
“No, it’s fine,” she assured him. “I’m just catching up on some … on some writing.”
“Mia told me you want to be a screenwriter. It’s cool that you’re so into it.”
“Well, everyone needs a hobby, right?” Violet said lightly. With her writing career in a precarious state, she didn’t want anyone to know just how serious she was.
“Sure.”
Jay looked cute, shuffling his feet a little awkwardly, wearing skinny, checked shorts and a white button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves. “Sit down,” she said, gesturing at a cushiony chair next to the desk.
Violet smiled, waiting for him to say more, resisting the urge to turn on the screen and peek at the story. She was really itching to get back to it; she was just at the part where Hayes and Rose were deciding if they wanted to go to an after-party at the beach. But Violet felt curious, too. Why was Jay here?
Jay nodded and sat down, looking a little uncomfortable. “Well,” he began. “I have two tickets to a really cool lecture at USC. A neuroscience professor opened it up to the public. She’s going to talk about the brain and creativity.” Jay pointed to the laptop. “I thought you might be interested, since you’re writing and all.”
Creativity and the brain. Violet thought back to her night of polishing her fingernails, eating apples, and watching TV—anything to jump-start her brain into action. It might be helpful.
“Are you interested in writing, too?” she asked. “Or something in the arts?”
“No.” Jay laughed. “I guess it’s the opposite. I love science, really any kind. It’s amazing how it explains the world, and it’s amazing how it can change it. I’m taking some AP summer classes—chemistry and bio.”
He went on to explain how that would free up time for different classes next year, more specialized ones “like neuroscience and orgo.”
“Orgo?”
“Organic chemistry.”
Violet had to admit she was impressed. She wasn’t even sure what organic chemistry was, or neuroscience for that matter. And he seemed so excited by it all—the lecture, the classes, the learning.
“Do you want to go? It starts at eight.”
“Oh, it’s tonight?” Violet felt her body shift closer to the keyboard, her mind telling her to keep writing. “I’m sorry, Jay, but I should really keep working. I’m in the groove now, and I’d hate to lose the flow.”
“Oh sure. Not a big deal at all. Just thought I’d ask, you know, a last-minute thing.” He spoke quickly, trying to sound casual, but Violet sensed his feelings were hurt. He seemed nice, so that was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Maybe we can hang out another time?” she said.
Jay lifted his head and smiled. “That would be great.” He was smiling as he left,
and Violet hoped he’d understood what she’d meant … or what she thought she’d meant anyway: Hang out as friends.
Why were emotions so complicated? She wanted this summer to be all about work, but she felt a pull toward Hayes, and she wasn’t sure why exactly. She was getting to know him, so maybe the feelings were real, but maybe she liked the idea of it, too—Violet Reeves with a celebrity all the girls were crushing on.
When it came right down to it, she was Hayes’s assistant. That was all. And here was this perfectly nice, cute boy actually asking her out, and she’d turned him down. Sure, she’d said “no” because she wanted to concentrate on her writing. But it was fanfic, not a screenplay, and more to the point, Hayes Grier fanfic. To be honest, she was so into it because it made her feel closer to Hayes.
Hayes, who might be with Coco. Hayes, who may be the next big movie star. Violet groaned. She and Hayes would never be together. She had a celebrity crush, that was all, like all the other sixteen-year-old girls, and that didn’t mean a thing.
Still she had fanfic Hayes. And that Hayes would never kiss Coco!
Violet opened her laptop and went back to writing.
* * *
Early the next morning, Violet was back on set, handing out TJ’s notes to the cast and crew.
She hadn’t seen Hayes yet. When she’d arrived at the studio, he was already in makeup, and TJ had corralled her right away. He’d said Hayes wouldn’t really need her for a while; could she take care of a few things for him?
Violet had to say yes. But she’d been hoping to pull Hayes aside to go over everything from yesterday. TJ had just assumed they’d already talked. Time was ticking away, and she needed to meet with Hayes sooner rather than later.
Next, TJ had her lead a new group of extras to the cafeteria set. She was just leaving when Hayes flagged her down. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said. “We still need to run those lines and go over the schedule.”
“I know!” she said. “Let’s go.”
They walked to Hayes’s trailer, not speaking, Violet hurrying to keep up. Inside, they sat on the couch, a wide space between them. Was this the same guy who’d said, “I’d love to stay with you”? Had something changed?
“Well, you’re here at the lot tomorrow,” Violet told him, going through the call sheet. “You have an early call time. A car will pick you up at 5:15 a.m. on the dot.” She rattled through the specifics as Hayes listened, occasionally asking a question.
Violet couldn’t help but notice Hayes wasn’t making eye contact. Maybe it was her imagination, but he seemed tense, almost angry.
Was he annoyed she’d been busy with other things while he was looking for her? Maybe he saw her with TJ and rethought the whole motorcycle incident, deciding she was trying to boss him around. Becoming a mini TJ.
She had to clear the air.
“Uh, Hayes?”
“Yeah?” He flipped through the schedule and barely looked up.
“You know, I feel kind of bad about yesterday, how I came down so hard on you about riding the bike. I didn’t mean to be overbearing or mean. The last thing I want to do is take away your freedom.” She paused. “I know how important that is to you.”
Now he was staring at her, and Violet felt a warmth spread down to her toes.
“You got it—that’s exactly why I like to ride. The speed, the wind, the feeling I can go anywhere and do anything—fast. But I totally understand why you didn’t want me to get on the bike. It’s all good. I’m just a little preoccupied now, thinking about the big final scene that’s coming up soon. Anyway,” he went on, “I didn’t mean to give you that impression. Can I make it up to you? I’m going to invite people over tonight, just to chill and celebrate everything—you know, being in California, the movie. It won’t be a big deal, a few close friends.”
He leaned in closer, and Violet’s stomach dropped. But he was just flicking a crumb off her shoulder. “You should definitely come. It would be nice to see each other off the lot.”
“Okay.” Violet hoped she sounded casual, as if she were invited to celebrity homes all the time.
“And bring anyone you like. I’ll text the address.”
“Hayes!” A production assistant was suddenly at the door. “You’re on in five.”
“Right. See you later?” Hayes asked Violet.
Not trusting her voice, she nodded. Then she hurriedly texted Mia. Cancel any plans for tonight! she wrote.
Immediately, she got a response.
Why?
We’re invited to Hayes’s house, along with a few close friends.
What about your writing? Mia texted back. Thought you’d be staying in every night to work.
Violet knew she was teasing her about turning down Jay’s invitation.
I can take one night off, right?
* * *
Soon, Violet was done for the day. She walked outside the lot to wait for Mia to pick her up, but she couldn’t keep still. She paced up and down the street, her stomach churning with nervous excitement. She had to settle down. A party was just a party—even in the Hollywood Hills. Hayes included her to be nice, to smooth over any friction.
“He’s turning into a friend,” Violet said out loud. “A very cute one. But really just a friend.”
She remembered Hayes leaning close to her. The way he looked deep in her eyes when she talked about freedom. She shivered.
“Just a friend,” she repeated firmly.
CHAPTER NINE
“MIA, HOW DO you think this would look on me?” Violet held up a sheer filmy minidress the color of pink cotton candy.
The girls were in Mia’s bedroom, figuring out what to wear to Hayes’s house that night.
“It would look great, but the color is all wrong for a laid-back scene. You need something more understated, like you just came back from work and threw on the first thing you saw in your closet.”
“But it’s your closet,” Violet pointed out, grinning. “And it’s hard to remember what the first thing even was—your clothes are all over the place.”
An assortment of dresses, shorts, jeans, and tops littered the room. Shoes, sandals, and one lone boot were piled high on the bed.
“Okay, okay, don’t take me literally.” Mia giggled. She tossed Violet a pair of light blue overall shorts and dark blue tank. “Try this. It’s cute and cool at the same time. Or wait. How about this?” She picked up a simple off-the-shoulder ivory-colored cotton dress, gathered at the waist. “For more of a classic-girl-next-door-who-can-be-sexy-too look.”
“What about this?” Violet picked up a T-shirt dress from the floor, shifting clothes around. “Oh!” She’d uncovered her phone in the process. She glanced at the screen, then took a longer look. “Oh my God! Mia! Read this!”
Together, the girls bent over Violet’s phone. HollywoodWriter310, whoever you are, you have the most raw talent I’ve ever seen—in or out of Hollywood.
“It’s from someone named Lydia Jacobs,” Mia said. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Only because she’s the biggest, most powerful agent in the world,” Violet crowed. “Listen!” She pulled the phone away from Mia to scroll down the screen. “She sent tons of messages. ‘If you let me represent you, you’ll have the career of your dreams.’ ‘Sign with me and you can write your own ticket.’” Violet laughed, giddy with excitement. “Get it, Mia? Write my own ticket?”
“Here’s another one. ‘Your writing draws people in, the response is out of this galaxy—get in touch ASAP.’”
Violet and Mia skipped around the room, kicking up clothes as they went. “Can you believe this?” Violet broke away to flop on the bed, pushing aside the pile of sandals. “I know I’ve been getting tons and tons of attention … people writing incredible reviews, begging—I mean really begging!—me to continue. I’ve been getting so many raves—”
She paused to acknowledge Mia’s quiet groan. Maybe she did sound a little full of herself. But so what? Maybe
she deserved to.
“But never in a million years,” she continued, “did I think something like this would happen. Lydia Jacobs wants to work with me! Do you know she represents Carmen Gomes? And Robby McEntire? I don’t know about writers … but if she has any, I’m sure they’re huge, too. And I could be one of them.”
“Well, yes,” Mia agreed. “But then won’t you have to tell Lydia who you are?”
“Of course,” Violet agreed. “How else would she know who—” Violet stopped short. “Oh,” she said slowly. She slumped into a chair. “Then everyone would know who wrote those stories. Maybe even…”
“Hayes Grier,” Mia finished. “And you said it could be an issue for him.”
“Well, I said maybe,” Violet conceded. “But I can’t let my fans down, can I? And there’s always a chance he won’t ever find out.”
Mia sighed. “Listen, I’m your biggest fan. You know I love your writing. But you can’t keep this from him any longer. It wouldn’t be right. And it could definitely be trouble if he finds out on his own. You have to tell Hayes the truth before you get in touch with Lydia.”
“I don’t know…” Violet twisted a long curl around her finger.
“Please, Violet,” Mia begged. “You owe him that much.”
“You’re right, my little conscience,” Violet told her, patting her head. “I’ll tell him tonight—everything from my writer’s block and why I started writing, to my messages from Lydia Jacobs.”
Violet shook her head, wishing she could just sweep everything under the rug and have fun tonight. It took a lot for her to talk to Hayes and clear the air this afternoon. And the fanfic was so much bigger. It could change the way he thought about her.
No matter what he thought about her now—and she didn’t have a clue—what would he think after finding out she was using him to write fan fiction?
“Here.” Mia handed Violet the overalls. “This will give an open and honest vibe.” She grabbed a T-shirt for herself. It was an original Mia design, a soft patchwork of fabric squares with sayings like, “Each new sunrise promises a new beginning,” “Stand Strong,” “It’s okay to be afraid, but try anyway.” Quickly, the cousins dressed and headed out the door.
