Disclaimer: I don't own Camp Rock, or any of its characters. I just like to manipulate them for my entertainment.

Summary: It was just temporary, the label said. A publicity stunt to further both of their careers. It turned out to be a little bit more.

A/N: This is my first Camp Rock piece and the first time I've written anything in a while, so please be gentle. Oh, and I swear, so my characters occasionally do, too.

Chapter One

"We are such stuff as dreams are made on."

William Shakespeare

Quinn had never really enjoyed being the center of attention. She'd always much preferred being on the outskirts of a crowd where she was able to keep an eye on everything that was going on. Most people assumed her to be extremely shy, as she mostly avoided speaking in large crowds, but really she just liked to observe without interfering. This habit let her pick up on the more subtle things that were happening around her, and she felt she was able to read people fairly well.

The girl was of average height and average weight, with a slim, athletic build. Her expressive green eyes were set in a heart-shaped face, and they peered at the world with slight cynicism. She had small yet full lips, set in a bit of a natural pout. Her nose turned up a little at the end. A smile was often pasted to her face, especially since there were now often cameras trained on her. Sweet and caring, she was fairly easy to get along with, though she had a bossy, bitchy streak that reared it's head if you got on her bad side. Sarcasm was a tool that she wielded well, and not everyone got her slightly twisted sense of humor. Just your average young woman, she'd say.

Bored one day, a fourteen year old Quinn picked up her mother's old, beaten up, acoustic guitar and her love affair with making music began. Four years were spent in the basement of her family's suburban home, strumming chords and stringing together melodies. Four years were spent scribbling song lyrics on any available scrap piece of paper. Four years, until her family and friends decided that she was too talented to be wasting her time only playing in a dark basement. Then it took one month, two weeks and five days to convince the stubborn eighteen year old to perform at the open mic night at a local coffee shop. Fifteen open mic nights at nine different venues passed before a talent scout took notice of her.

Then everything happened in whirlwind.

The first single that she'd released had done decently on the charts, and the second was a hit. The music video that followed was well received by most of the critics, and a fan base began to build. Then there was a flurry of interviews, in magazines, for the radio, on television. The press was fond of her soft spoken, sweet nature, and they were amused by her often sarcastic sense of humor. She was smart, polite, and talented. The quintessential good girl. Her label was eating up all the good press. Her star was on the rise.

That's why she now sat in shock in her manager's office, her green eyes wide as saucers and completely speechless. The manager, a Mr. Geoffrey 'Call me GP' Prapp, was propped against his desk, arms crossed, waiting for her to regain her ability to speak. He'd just dropped a bombshell on her, and he wasn't heartless enough not to give her enough time for it to sink in. He felt a little sorry for the girl, but his hands were tied. He was an agent of the label, and their will was his duty to carry out. GP knew she wouldn't take the news well. She hated being in the spotlight more than necessary for the job, and this was going to thrust her into a storm of paparazzi.

Quinn blinked slowly, trying to focus her thoughts. This meeting had taken a hugely different direction than what she'd expected. This was not a meeting about the upcoming release of her CD. Well, she supposed in a round about way it was, as it was a way to promote it, but it wasn't anything near what she'd expected. Her brain wasn't computing how this was possibly happening to her. It was a ridiculous notion. They couldn't make her do it, they couldn't!

"No," she finally said, the word ringing softly through the somewhat stuffy office air. "I won't do it. You can't make me."

Geoffrey sighed, shaking his head, "Yes, we can. If you don't go through with it, you'll violate your contract and the label will drop you. Your record won't be released. You'll end up as just another one hit wonder, as much as I hate to admit it."

"That's bull shit. You people have no right meddling in my personal business. Especially my romantic life. I won't debase myself by prancing around with someone who I have no interest in to promote my music. I won't," she snarled. She was up on her feet now, pacing back and forth across the room, face drawn into a dark scowl. "I'm nineteen. I'm an adult, not a child to be ordered around. This is not a point-and-obey situation."

"I'm afraid it is. Believe me, Quinn, if it were up to me I wouldn't be forcing this issue. But the label thinks it's the best way to turn you into a household name, and whatever the label wants the label gets," he rubbed his eyes, tired and stressed, before continuing. "Just think, you won't have to do it forever, it's not like we're asking you to marry the boy. We just think that linking your name with his will do a lot of good for you."

"I've never even met him! And from what I've seen in the press, he doesn't really seem like someone I ever want to meet. He's a self-obsessed, over-indulged, snotty rock star... not exactly my type, GP," Quinn protested.

"The public feeds on romance between celebrities, especially mismatched ones. Suffer through it for a few months, and see what happens. We'll reassess the situation then." His eyes were pleading with her to give in. His bosses would not take no for an answer, and if she refused she'd cause him an awful lot of trouble. His stress factor would go through the roof, and his doctor would ride him about his blood pressure, which would make his wife unhappy, who would then nag him until he wanted to slam his head repeatedly against a brick wall. Life would be so much better if she would just concede.

Quinn bit her lip, deliberating in her head. Yes, it would be good for her career, but was it worth it? And was she a good enough actress that she could pull it off? She'd never been in love, she'd never even really dated since she was horrible around boys she liked. She'd clam up, unable to speak for fear she'd say something stupid and then ruin everything. She'd never been in any sort of relationship. How was she supposed to pull off a fake one with no previous experience? Was it even possible? Especially if she ended up wanting to poke out this boy's eyes rather than spend time with him?

"What is he getting out of this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Geoffrey smirked. He knew he was winning, that she was giving in. Thank the Lord.

"He's been in a spot of trouble with the press recently, and the label is unimpressed. He needs to take a step back from his stereotypical rocker antics and let the public warm up to him again. If he dates a nice girl whom the press approves of, it'll be easier for him to get back into their good graces."

"And he's up for this? He's given it the go ahead?"

"Of course." He'd been a right little shit about it, actually, GP thought. It had taken three days and approximately six fits before the boy had been coerced into agreeing. It gave GP a headache just thinking about it. He was just glad that Quinn was being more reasonable. If he'd had to watch another door slam in his face, he'd probably have gone insane.

Quinn let out a huff of air, ran a hand through her hair, and nodded. "Fine, I'll do it. But if this turns out horribly, I'm not going to feel bad for you after I push you down a flight of stairs," she smiled wryly. Geoffrey gave a short laugh.

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"Elaina? Abby?" Quinn called as she stepped inside the penthouse apartment that the label had supplied for her, slamming the door behind her. Depositing her sneakers on the shoe rack next to the door, she softly treaded farther into her home. Poking her head into the living room, she saw her friends sprawled on separate couches, eyes glued to the television screen.

"Hey," Elaina greeted her, pausing the movie she and Abby were watching. "What's up? How'd the meeting go?"

Quinn and Elaina had been friends since they'd met in a high school math class. Elaina had actually been one of the driving forces behind getting Quinn to perform in public. Not taking no for an answer, she'd badgered her friend until Quinn had decided that the only way to preserve her sanity was to get out of the basement. Since then, Elaina had supported Quinn's career more than anyone. Currently she was on a break from her university studies and had come to stay with Quinn for a few months.

Elaina had brown, shoulder length hair framing an oval face. She had a pale, rosy complexion and big blue eyes. Only a few inches taller than Quinn, she stood at 5'7", but was constantly teased about her montrous sized feet. Intelligent and independent, Elaina always did quite well in her studies. She had a happy personality, always ready to laugh loudly and smile. She was an amazing friend, always there to listen and offer advice when needed, or to offer fun distractions.

Quinn had met Abby the previous year, when she'd showed up for her first recording session. Abby was the bassist that the label had supplied for the CD, and she and Quinn became fast friends. She and Elaina also got on excellently, and the three of them were practically inseperable. They talked in unison sometimes, since they knew each other's thoughts pretty well, but they tried not to.

Abby had her currently dark hair cut in a chin length style that complemented her round shaped face. Her green eyes always seemed to have a hint of mischievousness behind them, since she was always planning something to help her friends in some way or another. Standing only at about 5'2", she liked to wear high heels so she didn't feel super short. She was a generally cheerful person, but she stored up everything that made her unhappy until she reached a breaking point. It normally took her a few days to bounce back from that point. Abby was extremely passionate about music, and was constantly rocking out to bands that Quinn had never even heard of. Loyal to the core, she was a good friend to have around.

"It was horrible, actually," Quinn moaned, flopping down into an armchair. Her friends were instantly concerned, but waited for her to continue. "They're forcing me to have a fake relationship to appease the press."

"They're what?!" Elaina gasped, eyes widening.

"Can they even do that? I'm pretty sure that's not legal," Abby stated, furrowing her brow.

"They threatened to drop me if I didn't go through with it. They think it will push me to the next level, the household name level."

"That's bull shit!" Elaina swore, indignant.

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"Who are they making you date?" asked a curious Abby.

Quinn bit her lip and winced a little. "Shane Grey."

Her friends were shocked into silence.

A/N: Uhhh... yeah. Sorry. I'm pretty rusty. Plus first chapters always require character descriptions which I'm horrible at writing... It should get better, eventually. Haha. Review for love! =)