Disclaimer: If I owned Big Time Rush, I probably wouldn't be writing Jatie stories right now. Or if I was, I'd be making tons of money off of them. So, I don't own Big Time Rush or anything recognizable in this story.

A/N: Those of you who have read my stories know that I write really long chapter/story notes, and this one is no exception. Basically, I really wasn't planning on posting a new story until I finished "Anywhere But Here", but I have this habit of starting new stories and getting a few chapters into them, before starting something else, and then they never get posted. So I thought I'd head my bad habits off early and go ahead and post this. Plus, I haven't really updated anything for a couple of weeks, and one of those reasons - besides holiday season - is that I've been working on new stories. Thus another reason to post this and give you guys a sample of why everything else is kind of in limbo right now. I'm sorry! And things will get updated eventually, I just need to find the willpower to work on them.

The basic idea for this story popped into my head a few months ago. The idea for it was pretty much just what you see in the first chapter, except it took place in Minnesota. I didn't do anything with it because I couldn't figure out the rest of the story, but the idea kept appearing in my head at the most random times. Meanwhile, I had been wanting to write a story where Katie's the pop star and James is just a regular guy who's into rock and not into the stuff Katie sings, and he ends up at a meet and greet through extenuating circumstances. The latter sounded a little too cliched so I disregarded it. But the two ideas meshed together one night and now we have this. The story opens up with a few different OCs mentioned. As much as I hate to bring OCs immediately into the story, it was kind of needed for the first chapter. If anyone's read what I have so far of "Pull The Trigger", then you'll recognize Shelby, who's James' younger sister in that story as well.

As always, I've gotta thank Dana2184 for reading the first chapter of this and immediately telling me that I better be writing more of it. So, I'm dedicating this story to her because she's always willing to read whatever crap I send her and she listens to me constantly whine about how James and Katie never do what I want them to and she's constantly pushing me to stretch my limits and to try out new pairings. Also, I'm hoping she's going to write something she just mentioned to me, so this is kind of a bribe because I'm not above that apparently.

Anyway, I think that's about all I have to say at the moment. If you managed to make it through the monstrous A/N, kudos to you and thanks!

Enjoy the first chapter! :)

Chapter One – Tonight, Tonight

Katie's POV

I loved nights like these.

The late summer air was warm, the sky a stretch of dark velvet above the Los Angeles skyline, and the lights of the old Diablo Theater twinkled down at us like glowing golden stars. It was beautiful.

In all honesty, I couldn't remember the last time I had left my house for something other than work, a dress fitting, a summer tour, or a movie premiere. It made kind of a nice change to come down here with a couple of people to watch a musical, even if those two people happened to be my manager and bodyguard. With any luck my actual friends would join us, but I wasn't hopeful. I knew Jo Taylor was currently filming her TV show, Camille Roberts was probably on set for the western she had been cast in, Lucy Stone was more than likely pulling an all-nighter in the recording studio, and Stephanie King was either working on a script or trying to convince one of the studios to let her make a movie already.

Ah, the hardships of a Hollywood lifestyle.

Cody and Elaine, my bodyguard and manager respectively, trailed behind me as I led the way towards the front doors, positively beaming. I had loved musicals growing up, and had begged my mom to take me to the ones that were performed in Minneapolis or St. Paul, depending on the theater. But it had been years since I had actually been to a play or a musical, and I was looking forward to it. Granted, it wasn't the happiest musical in the world – we were going to see Les Misérables – but just the idea of being inside a theater again – treading on the carpet, seeing the huge stage lit up, a spotlight following the performers around – was intoxicating.

I loved it.

Cody moved past me, placing his hand on my shoulder as we got in line at the door. He glanced around surreptitiously, and I fought back the urge to roll my eyes. He was just doing his job, just doing what he was paid to do, and I needed to remember that before I snapped at him. It was his job to throw himself between me and crazed fans, to ward off insane stalkers, to shove paparazzi out of the way whenever they tried to get too close to me. I had a huge personal bubble and if a pap broke through it to get to me, I would end up having a nervous breakdown.

That was another reason why Cody was so nice to have around. He kept anxiety meds on him at all times because he knew how nervous I got when people began pushing and shoving to get to me.

Just one of the perks of being an international pop star and actress at the ripe old age of eighteen, I guess. I loved it, but sometimes it got just the teeniest bit aggravating.

But tonight I was just a normal person – with a six-foot-five, three-hundred pound bodyguard – out to the theater. If anyone had looked at us, they would have never guessed that I had just released a chart topping album two months ago; that I had been on tour for most of the summer, and that in a couple of days I would be leaving LA to finish up the tour; that my latest single was currently number one on the pop charts; that I had a movie premiering in two months; that I was eighteen years old and almost too famous for my own good.

We moved through the line slowly, people glancing curiously at Cody and then at me, before shaking their heads. Either they thought we had one hell of a weird relationship, or they figured he was either my dad or my older brother. Considering the fact that he was fifteen years older than me and had fifteen inches on me, I couldn't blame them for any assumptions they were making.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do tonight?" Elaine asked me for the million and tenth time in the past twenty-four hours. "Because I can arrange for us to do something else if you want. I can get on the phone with Brenda and have her get us into a club or that new restaurant that just opened in SoHo, or – "

I held up my hand. "Trust me, Elaine, this is exactly what I want to do tonight. I don't want to be anywhere else in the world."

"All right," she relented with a deep sigh, clearly wondering if the tour and the movie combined had been too much and if I had cracked under such intense pressure. She had already asked me that several times in the past couple of days, and each time I had reminded her that the movie had been filmed months before the tour began, and that I was fine. But she still wasn't convinced. As far as she was concerned, young starlets and pop princesses were supposed to be out club hopping on Friday nights, not going to see Les Misérables at an old theater in a rundown part of Los Angeles.

What can I say? I was one of a kind. And I liked it that way.

I crossed my arms over my chest as the line moved up slightly. I hated standing still, not doing anything. It made me jittery and anxious, like I was being trapped in a glass box with no way out.

Just to occupy myself I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket and checked to make sure no one had texted or called me. For once nothing but my phone's background looked back at me, and I couldn't decide if I was relieved or disappointed. I decided that I was relieved and slipped it back into my pocket as the line scooted up a little more. We reached the door a couple of minutes later and Cody passed the hostess our tickets. She explained how to get to the box seats – Elaine had bought the tickets, not me – and we hurried past her into the theater, each grabbing a program on the way in. We stopped by the restrooms before continuing on into the arena. We mounted the stairs and headed up to the box seats, quickly locating them.

I dropped into my seat, unbuttoning my coat and shrugging out of it. I set my purse down on the floor, and leaned against the cushions, sighing contentedly. While I would have preferred to be in one of the front rows, this worked just as well. I had brought binoculars, and was ready to curl up in my chair with only Elaine giving me a disapproving look, instead of the glares I would get if I did that in a floor seat.

I slid my phone out of my pocket once more and turned it on silent before dropping it into my purse and pulling out the binoculars, focusing my attention on the program. I flipped it open, reading about the origins of the musical – based off of the novel by Victor Hugo – and its reception.

"I could have found all this out just by looking on Wikipedia," Elaine griped, also looking through her program. "Gosh. I bet all the performers in this are going to be second rate amateurs."

I rolled my eyes. "You're a snob, you know that?"

"I only want what's best for you."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Cool. Then stop complaining – it's giving me a headache."

She glared at me, but nevertheless made a huge production of zipping her lips shut. I smiled in satisfaction. Good.

Cody set his program down. "Well, I'm excited about this," he announced. "Beats trying to push back twelve year old girls any day."

I grinned. "I don't pay you to push back twelve year old girls."

"Damn straight. You don't pay me, period. Your management does." He smiled at me, dark brown eyes twinkling. "So watch the sass."

"How do you watch sass?" I wanted to know. "Is there a special camera for that? Do you have it? Can I borrow it?"

"Not on my watch, little missy," he retorted. "But nice try."

My grin widened. Cody was always fun to have around when we weren't being attacked by a teenage mob. He was a bit like an overexcited Golden Retriever with a German Shepherd's growl. If you got on his bad side, you were screwed. But if he liked you, he would protect you 'til the very end. And I liked it that way.

Elaine got out her own binoculars, these ones opera glasses. I wondered if she knew the difference between musical theater and opera…

I glanced over at Cody and he shook his head, silently laughing. "Don't even try," he mouthed to me. "It's not worth it."

Nodding in agreement, I laid my program in my lap as the lights began to dim. A moment later, the theater's manager came on stage, the spotlight shining right on him, as he asked us to please put our phones on silent and to only use the exits if we had to leave or use the restroom. He proceeded to launch into an explanation about the musical and why they had decided to put it on here, now, at this very moment. I listened attentively, but couldn't stop myself from fidgeting, tapping my foot and drumming my fingers against my leg.

At last, he bowed himself off of the stage, the spotlight going dark.

There was thirty seconds of pitch black, silence falling over the theater as everyone waited with baited breath for what we knew was about to come.

And then the spotlight came on, blindingly white in the center of the stage, and Les Misérables had begun.

The musical was incredible. The acting was beyond amazing, and the song and dance numbers were performed above and beyond anyone's expectations. I was particularly impressed by the guy who played Marius. He had an unbelievable voice, and his acting range was enormous. And it didn't hurt that, from what I could tell, he was pretty cute as well. I doubted he was even that much older than me, but then again weren't the guys who played Marius usually relatively young?

Intermission arrived almost too soon, and I got to my feet, stretching out my cramped muscles.

"Restroom," Elaine mumbled as she stood up, tottering on her four inch heels, and I nodded in agreement. We made our way back down to the lobby and to the restrooms with Cody following closely behind. We did our business and washed our hands before walking back out.

"So, are you impressed with the performance yet?" I asked Elaine as we mounted the stairs.

"I suppose. It's not Broadway in New York, but then again, can you really compare a dilapidated theater to a gorgeous New York City Broadway stage?"

I rolled my eyes. Snob. "I really like who plays Marius," I commented.

"You know, the cast's names and pictures are in the program," Cody informed me. "So if you want to see what his name is and what he really looks like, you can."

Clearly I either hadn't chosen my words carefully enough, or I was completely see-through. Or maybe both. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

He grinned at the confused look on my face. "Please. I've been your bodyguard for the past two years. I probably know you better than you know yourself by now."

"You know me way too well," I told him huffily. "Probably better than my own mother and brother."

"More than likely," he agreed with a casual shrug. "But hey, it comes in handy for when I think you're going to do something stupid."

I sputtered indignantly. "I never do anything stupid!"

"It would come in handy for if you ever decided to do anything stupid. You know, start acting your age."

"I don't really act any older than eighteen. I mean, I watch all the stupid teen dramas. I love the supernatural shows. I go to the movies whenever I can. I would love to have a year's supply of iTunes gift cards. I love shopping. I text a lot. And I make inappropriate comments about guys. Such as, if I had one night in my bed with the guy who plays Marius, I would make sure he left Cosette for good."

Elaine rolled her eyes, while Cody grinned widely. "Not bad, but you need to work on it. I've heard way worse from twelve year olds who don't even have access to HBO."

I stuck my tongue out at him and flounced back to my seat haughtily, plopping down and crossing my legs. I grabbed my program from where it had slipped to the floor and opened it, flipping to the cast pages. Elaine and Cody sat down on either side of me, Elaine crossing her legs as well, but in a more business like fashion, rather than like an irritated teenage girl.

"Found him yet?" Cody asked me, and I shushed him.

"Shut up, I'm looking." I scanned the first column, before moving onto the second. My eyes widened and I knew I had found him before I even saw the role he was playing. The picture was black and white, but I could see huge deep eyes, long lashes, fantastic cheekbones, a straight nose, and dark hair.

I scanned the little blurb, licking my lips as I read through it a little more closely.

"James Diamond (Marius). Diamond's first onstage acting role was as the little drummer boy in the Chester Creek Community Center Christmas play in Chester Creek, Minnesota at the age of six. Since then, he has been acting and singing whenever he can; he was cast as Sky Masterson in 'Guys and Dolls' when he was in his junior year of high school, and played The Phantom in the Los Angeles College of the Performing Arts' production of 'Phantom of the Opera'. He is about to enter his junior year at LACPA, and he is looking forward to continuing to perform while still attending college."

I laid the program down, biting my bottom lip as I stared at the picture. It sounded like he had been performing since he was little, like he knew exactly what it was that he wanted to do with his life. We had that much in common, at the very least. And he sang, danced, and acted, all of which I did. Not that it really mattered, it was just kind of cool that we had that in common since I was waiting for him – and his cast mates – to return to the stage. And I hoped it would be soon. I was starting to get anxious. Again.

At last, the lights dimmed pitch black, and the spotlight shone like a golden orb on the stage, a full moon on a dark winter night.

The musical began again, and I relaxed in my seat, getting back into the story, the acting, and the song and dance numbers.

Les Misérables eventually ended, the audience rising to their feet in a standing ovation as the cast came back out in pairs to bow together, before returning in one huge group, spreading out across the stage, hands clasped in each other's and dipping down in one sweeping wave. I cheered, letting out a couple of whoops, and the guy who played Marius – James Diamond – glanced up in my direction.

Even from here, I could almost feel his eyes sweeping the crowd, searching for me. My heart thudded loudly against my rib cage like a bass line, my breath catching in my throat with a sharp gasp, and it was several seconds before I realized that there was no way he was going to be able to see me. The audience would be nothing but a black mass to him, not with those lights pointed in his face. But the sensation that he was looking for me was still unnerving, yet…intoxicating. Intense. Mind blowing. Enthralling.

Oh boy.

Was it possible to have a celebrity crush on someone who wasn't even a celebrity?

Deciding I would ponder that question later, I watched as the cast turned one by one and dashed backstage. Shaking myself out of the self-induced dazed I had ended up in, I turned to Elaine as the lights came blaring back on.

I tugged on Elaine's suit jacket to get her attention, and she turned to me questioningly. "Yes?"

"Can we go backstage?"

She and Cody exchanged looks, before she asked, "Why?"

I shrugged. "You know, I've just never really been backstage of a play or a musical production like this. It'd be a new experience."

"Uh huh." A skeptical look flashed across her face, but nevertheless she got on the phone with the theater's manager after digging up his number. After a hurried conversation, she hit the call end button on her Smart Phone and smiled at me. "Not a problem. He told me to just turn left once we get to the lobby and we'll be behind the stage pretty quickly."

"Okay." I smiled back. "Thanks."

"Not a problem." Clutching her phone, she led the way out of the box and down the stairs. We were swept up in the crowd, and Cody immediately grabbed mine and Elaine's hands to keep us from being separated. He yanked us to the side until the worst of the flood of people had disappeared out the front door, before hauling us in the direction of what I figured were the dressing rooms.

Just as we reached an arched doorway, a middle aged man stepped out from what appeared to be an office. "Hi. I'm George Tucker, the Diablo Theater manager. I believe we spoke on the phone?" he added to Elaine, holding out his hand to her.

She nodded and placed her hand in his, shaking it politely. "Elaine Stravinsky. I'm Katie Knight's manager," she added, resting her hand momentarily on my shoulder, before jerking her thumb at Cody. "And this is Cody Wiler, Katie's bodyguard. Katie was hoping to go backstage to see what it was like, and possibly to meet one of the cast members."

"I didn't say I wanted to meet one of the cast members," I whined, my cheeks flushing what I was sure was a bright red.

"It's called reading between the lines, dear," Elaine informed me, patting my shoulder before looking at Mr. Tucker expectantly. "On the phone you said it wouldn't be a problem."

"And it won't be. I just thought that perhaps I could show you around personally. Now, which actor did you want to meet?" he asked me accommodatingly.

"Um…the one who plays Marius. James Diamond or something like that. I was really impressed with his performance!" I added quickly.

Elaine, Cody, and Mr. Tucker all raised their eyebrows at each other, and I groaned. "Okay, this isn't really that big of a deal. Can't I extend professional courtesy to him?"

"Of course you can," Mr. Tucker assured me. "Follow me, Miss Knight." He waved me forward, and I trotted after him, hurrying to match his long stride. Cody kept a few footsteps behind me, while Elaine strolled along after us, holding her phone up, fingers flying across the touch screen. It was amazing she didn't run into a wall or a door or crash into a window.

As we walked, Mr. Tucker pointed out props and racks of clothes. I nodded, asking questions and thinking that if I had known I was going to have to run a 5K marathon I would have worn my Converse, rather than open toed boots. Would it kill him to slow down enough for us short people to keep up with him? Because seriously, by the time I actually got meet James Diamond, I was going to be so winded I wouldn't even be able to get an "uhhh" out.

At last, he stopped in front of one of the dressing room doors. There was a cut out gold star taped to the top, with "James Diamond" scrawled across it in a neat signature.

"Will he still be in?" I asked, a little nervously. "I mean, he might have already gone home…"

"Nah, he's probably just winding down from the performance," Mr. Tucker said. "With any luck his makeup's off and he's in his street clothes. He should be by now." And with that statement, he raised his fist and knocked hard twice on the door.

"Yeah?" A young man's voice called, and Mr. Tucker replied,

"I have a few people here to see you. They were in the audience," he added hastily. "Is it okay if they come in?"

"As long as they're not the FBI or mobsters, by all means," James called back, and I giggled quietly. I liked him already. Like I hadn't before.

A moment later, the door swung open and a tall young man stood there, even better looking than he was in his picture. James Diamond was easily 6'1, with green-gold-hazel eyes, chestnut brown hair, and a body to rival the guys' from Teen Wolf.

My eyes widened as I took him in, and my mouth went desert dry, my throat following suit. I had the distinct feeling that I was star struck, although I wasn't completely sure why. I mean, he wasn't a celeb. He wasn't famous. He wasn't in my favorite movies, and he wasn't my favorite singer. He was just some guy who had been in a musical I had just seen.

That didn't explain why it felt like my heart was trying to leap into my throat, frog style. I really would have loved an explanation for that, but something told me it wasn't going to be happening anytime soon.

James blinked at us, eyes flitting over me and brightening momentarily with vague recognition. I could already guess what was going through his mind. I looked familiar, he had seen me somewhere before, but he couldn't quite place me. He wasn't a fan.

My spirits dropped slightly, before I reminded myself that that didn't necessarily mean that he didn't like my music or acting. He just maybe hadn't heard or seen anything I had sung or filmed. It was a perfectly logical explanation, and there was no reason to sulk when I hadn't even known he was alive up until two hours ago.

"Is there something I can do for you?" James asked politely, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He was in what looked like a concert t-shirt for some band I had never heard of, jeans that fitted him just a little too well for my comfort, and Converse high tops. Handmade bracelets dangled from his wrists, and I wondered vaguely where he had gotten them, if he had bought them or if someone had made them for him.

Elaine elbowed me in the ribs, and I stepped forward, squeaking out, "Um, yeah! Hi! I just wanted to say that you were really amazing tonight. I mean," I blushed again when James raised an eyebrow in amusement, "from one performer to another. You were awesome. Seriously. You were."

"You're a performer?" James asked, straightening up in interest. "Anything I might have seen or heard of?"

I shrugged. "I was in These Days Are Ours."

"Oh, you're an actress."

"And a singer," I added. "I'm Katie Knight."

Usually when someone hears my name, they either pause for a moment before saying, "Wait, aren't you the one who sings Everyone but You? I keep hearing that song on the radio!" or they squeal and scream, "Oh my gosh, I love you so much! You're, like, my idol! Can I have your autograph? Pleeaasse?"

James didn't do either of those things. He surveyed me for a long pause, before nodding. "Oh, okay, I know who you are. My little sister loves your music. She's going to your concert here in LA on the 28th."

Oh. Well. Okay. It was cool that his sister was a fan – hey, the more people who listened to my music, the better – but it was kind of a bummer because that meant that in his mind I would be the annoying pop star who his sister listened to as a pre teen or a teenager. I had a friend who's younger sister listened to Taylor Swift on repeat, and he couldn't stand her music now.

I must have been frowning, because he said quickly, "Not that there's anything wrong with your music. It's just not my style. No offense. I'm just more into rock."

I almost spluttered out, "You're in Le Mis! That's not exactly Van Halen."

Both of his eyebrows shot up, and his body tensed slightly. "Do you sing all the different types of music that you listen to?"

"Well…no…"

"Exactly. It's the same thing."

"No, no, I know that, I get it, I was just – I mean, my music's pop rock. I'm not into people saying that my music isn't rock enough for them."

"It's just not my style," James shrugged. "I mean, from what I've heard you've got some catchy stuff. Just not hard enough. You've got an awesome voice, though. And I promise I'm not trying to insult your music," he added. Apparently I had my bitch-eating face on, which wouldn't have surprised me, because my arms were crossed as well and my lips were pursed tightly, a sure sign that I was about to go on the attack. "I mean – wow, there is really no way to go back from that, is there?"

"Not really. And to think, I was trying to be nice."

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "I really wasn't trying to be insulting. It's just been a really long day – a long past few months – and I'm exhausted. I wasn't thinking about what I was saying. Forgive me? Please?"

I hesitated, before nodding. "Okay. You're forgiven. But only because you can sing really well."

He grinned. "Thanks. And like I said, so can you."

"Thanks."

There was another long pause. "Um, could I ask a favor of you?"

I eyed him. "What?"

"Could I get an autograph? For my sister," he clarified when my own eyebrows skyrocketed. "Shelby. She's fourteen and thinks you're the greatest thing that's ever lived. She's going to flip when she hears that I met you and then she's going to kill me when she hears that I insulted you. So could you please sign something for her? It might make my murder a little less painful."

I laughed, before nodding. "Sure. What do you want me to sign?"

He waved me into the room, glancing at Elaine and Cody, both of whom stayed on the other side of the threshold with Mr. Tucker.

I glanced around the dressing room curiously as he rummaged around. He had a dressing table, a clothes rack, and a couch, with a couple of posters for Simple Plan and Thousand Foot Krutch hanging on the wall. Nothing fancy, nothing elaborate, but kind of cozy in a weird way.

James passed me a notebook and a pen.

"Anything in particular I should write?" I asked him as I placed the notebook on the dressing table, poising the pen over the paper.

"Um…maybe something like, 'Please don't kill James because he'd really like to live to see his 21st birthday.' Or, you know, whatever you're comfortable with."

I grinned and scribbled something down, before passing it to him.

"Thanks." He glanced down at the notebook and his eyes widened. "Um…You make a very convincing argument for why I shouldn't be killed."

"Yeah, I thought so too."

"'I know your brother's a jerk, but he's cute and one day you'll be able to get him back by flirting with his friends. Hope you have an awesome summer, and an amazing time at the concert! Lots of love, Katie Knight.' Yeah, I don't think she'll kill me now."

"Good," I said in satisfaction. "Which row is she in?"

"Like the third? I think. I just know she has VIP, so you'll get to meet her."

"Awesome, I'll be on the lookout for her."

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, thanks for stopping by."

"Thanks for opening the door. It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah, you too." He held out his hand to me and I placed mine in his. Our fingers entwined, and it was like a spark of electricity shot through me, deep and raw and powerful and scarily intense. James' and my eyes locked, his burning into mine, and it was like my throat was closing up, breathing no longer being an option.

"The theater's officially closing at eleven," Mr. Tucker coughed out. "And it's 10:55 now…"

I pulled back from James, stuffing my hands in my coat pocket. "We'll get out of your hair. Thanks again, both of you." I glanced at James, and he nodded curtly at me, his own hands in his jeans pockets.

I hurried past him and out the door, feeling like I couldn't get far enough away from him, but also noticing the way my stomach clenched as the door closed behind me.

I grabbed Elaine and Cody and dragged them outside, my head spinning.

I had no idea what had just happened, but I knew one thing.

I wanted to see James Diamond again. And badly.

So, that was the first chapter...Did you love it? Hate it? Like it? Want to read more? Want to shake your head at it? If you could take a moment to review and let me know what you thought of the chapter, I will love you forever! And thank you for taking the time to read the first chapter of a story that's probably going to be a little nuts. It means the world to me :)