A/N: Okay, so I haven't ever done a HM fanfic before, and a thought came to me while listening to David Archuleta's single "Crush". I'm not telling now, but enjoy.
Summer POV
I sighed as my alarm went off, my cell alarm, sending David Archuleta's "Crush" into the room. I groped for the phone and sat up. "It's too early…" I mumbled before another alarm burst into existence next door. The Stewarts.
Turning off the alarm, I walked sleepily to my window and looked out of it, waiting for Jackson to open his window, like every morning. We had been friends ever since he had moved in a few years back. I had been there through his many girlfriends and breakups, through getting fired by Rico and his relationship with Hannah Montana.
Miley's window opened first and the sound of the Jonas Brothers gently carried over. Her curly brown head popped out and looked over. "Hey Summer. Waiting for Jackson again?" she asked, implying more than I wanted in her tone.
Blushing furiously, I shook my head, "No," I called back all too quickly and Miley laughed.
"Uh-huh. Listen, Summer, Jackson isn't interested in your type." She shrugged. Rolling my eyes, I backed out of my window and slammed the little tiny door-like frames and threw myself onto my bed.
There went my morning.
Trudging down the stairs, I put on my best pout and entered the kitchen. "Mom, are we going to the record company today? You said you made an appointment."
My mom nodded as she sipped her coffee. "Yes, this afternoon, but you'll have to get someone else to take you, I have an interview for the Dynamo's 'Where are they now?' piece."
Ah, the one-hit wonder Dynamo's. It made me roll my eyes with the very name. But only one name hit my mind. Jackson Stewart.
Running up the stairs again, I was beaming. As I entered my room again, I closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. My eyes strayed to a cute little number I had been saving for my trip up to L.A. A rocker tee and my best jeans, which was it…aside from one thing…
The wig.
Oh yes, the dark brown wig that made me look nothing like who I was, in that I would look like a girl with elbow-length dark brown hair, perfectly straight. As opposed to my auburn loose spirals, which inspired my name, Summer. My mom hated the thought of her daughter having to drop high school for touring, and had insisted on me taking on a stage identity.
I changed quickly and pulled back my hair into a tight bun before putting on the tight swim-cap like thing that would make sure none of my hair slipped out. I delicately put on the wig and applied make-up to make my skin all over seem pale and even disguise my freckles.
She's the prom queen, I'm in the marching band, she's a cheerleader, I'm sitting in the stands. She gets the top bunk, I'm sleeping on the…
I flipped open my phone. "Hey Jackson. I need a favor."
"Sure, Sums, what is it?" His voice answered on the other end.
"I need a ride to L.A. I have an appointment with the record company, and I've…spruced up for it."
Jackson made a grunt and I could almost hear him roll his eyes. I huffed. "Jackson? Can I get you out of working at Rico's today?"
"I'm actually at Rico's right now, Summer."
I rolled my eyes, "Give the phone to the brat."
"Rico here, what does Jackson's spicy friend want?"
"Listen, I have a special interview with Die Hard Records today and I need Jackson to drive me to L.A. I'll work no charge next weekend. Friday night."
"Rico like," Rico said thoughtfully. "All right, Spring,"
"Summer," I corrected.
"Whatever, see you Friday night, Jackson's free."
I heard the phone be passed back. "Thanks a ton, Summer."
"No problem. See you at my house in five?"
"Ch-yeah!" Jackson crooned and the line went dead.