Jaded (Rock Star Trilogy)

highlight my cheekbones. I smile, satisfied at my reflection.
    I go to my walk in closet. It's very huge. Not as big as my closet in LA, but still, it's bigger than the average sized bedroom. I even have a chandelier hanging in there, and I have to admit it's a bit excessive, but I am a rock star. I deserve a few indulgences in life. My stylist stocked my closet for me, and I swear, I have enough clothes that I wouldn't have to wear the same thing twice for the whole year. But that's okay with me, because, like I said, I am a girly girl, and I love clothes.
    Every outfit is labeled for each day. I pick up the outfit that says “ For your first day of school .” My stylist, Monica, wrote a note for me.
     
    You told me to dress you like a normal teenager, and I did my best. Don't  blame me that you look better than everybody else. You are extraordinary, no matter what you wear. Good luck with high school. Go to lots of parties, get drunk, and kiss lots of boys. But no matter what you do: DON'T FALL IN LOVE! (Trust me, high school love sucks, and always ends in heartbreak). Have fun!
    <3 Monica
     
    I couldn't help but smile. I love Monica! I quickly put on my outfit. I do not look like a normal teenager at all. I'm wearing a pair of five inch, hot pink stilettos, a short green skirt, and a hot pink shirt that hangs off my right shoulder. But I'm not too upset, because I do look good.
    Of  course I look good! I'm SCARLETT RYAN !
     
    7:55 am
    People are ALREADY staring.
     
    I pull into my new school at 7:55, and people are already staring. Though, I suspect it's because of my car. I'm driving a special edition Lamborghini Sesto Elemento. It was custom made for me. It's black and has hot pink rims. Mason got it made for my nineteenth birthday 2 months ago. Again, I know it's extreme, but it's my dream car, and I love it. I love fast cars .
    I glance in the rear view mirror at myself one last time. I put on my designer sun glasses and get out of my car. I walk boldly, and confidently to the building labeled “ADMINISTRATION”.
    I feel good as I walk. I can do this. After all, I am Scarlett Ryan . I'm about to open the door when somebody else pushes it open. Me and other person have a head on collision. Well, more like a head/ chest collision. The person towers over me by at least six inches, even in my heels. I start to stumble backwards, but a hand reaches out and grabs my arm to help steady me.
    Smooth, Scarlett. Real smooth.
    “I'm sorry. Are you ok?” the deep voice asks.
    I look up into the bluest eyes I've ever seen. Like seriously, this guy puts THOR to shame. And I'm beginning to wonder if he is a god, because I swear, I just lost the ability to talk. My mouth suddenly feels dry.
    What is this strange feeling?
    Oh god, I'm NERVOUS . Seriously?
    I take a deep breath and silently scold myself. I've met celebrities, yet I can't handle a teenage boy? I push my sun glasses to the top of my head. “I'm fine, thank you.”
    He looks at me like he knows me, but can't quite figure out who I am. I'm hoping I can avoid the awkward ' Oh my god, you're Scarlett Ryan!' conversation.As if I don't know who I am. “You look very familiar. Are you new here?”
    “Yeah, I'm new,” and then I add, “Sorry, I don't think I recognize you. I'm not from around here.” I know, I'm bad. But I don't want him to know who I am. Not yet, anyway. Maybe I can at least make one friend who isn't obsessed with me. Though, let's face it, that might be difficult.
    “Oh my god!” I hear a voice from behind him. “Scarlett Ryan?”
    And just like that, I am surrounded by a sea of people. People are screaming my name and pushing through to the front, trying to get a glimpse of me.
    I feel somebody grab my hand, and begin to pull me through the growing crowd of people. We go inside the building and quickly step inside the first door on the right.
    I look up to see Thor locking the door.
    Oh, the things I'd love to do with him in this locked room.
    “ Who are you? And why are they acting like that?” he asks.
    I stick out my hand. I know that I can no longer hide my identity, so I decide to introduce myself. “I'm Scarlett Ryan. I have won five Grammy awards, I've had 15 number one hits in the past four years, and I'm currently taking a break from music so I can finish out my senior year in peace, and not from the back of a tour bus.”
    He accepts my hand shake. “I hate to break it to you, but I'm pretty sure the back of a tour