A/N: even though this story is not at the Palm Woods, tons of BTR will be involved, just so you know. James won the poll by the way. I'll write a story about him called Futuristic Lover.

A/N: Vote in my poll and leave a review.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Chapter 2

"What an amazingly weird story," Phyllis commented. I'd told her about Big Time Rush's rise to stardom. I guess it was pretty weird because we always got the same reaction.

"Yeah," I replied, "But now I get to interview you. First question, how old are you?"

"I just turned sixteen. I'm one of the youngest people here," she answered. I laughed. "What's so funny?"

"I'm seventeen. My trainer is younger than me." Phyllis told me she would work me to the bone, so I shut up. "Okay…Next, how did you make it here?" I held the camera up to her face.

"I used to be a gymnast in a dance troupe and my teacher recommended it," she said.

"Do you like to sing?"

"Uh yeah…when I have time," she said, averting her eyes. I frowned but didn't ask anything more. "I guess I could help you unpack," she suggested, standing up. "Let's go."

BTRBTRBTRBTR

"Wow, that took a while," Phyllis panted, "You pack more than a girl. No offense." I hate when people say 'no offense'. Whatever they say is still offensive!

"It was just the bare necessities," I argued. She raised her eyebrow at me as we walked into our private dance room. It was small and brightly lit. There were mirrors on the walls and a balance beam in the corner.

"You consider millions of sweater vests a necessity?" she giggled. Right from then, she was all business. "According to this pamphlet, our first dance is the Cha-Cha-Cha!" Phyllis picked up a small boombox and pressed a button. A catchy, upbeat song filled the room.

"Grab your ballroom shoes and we'll start." I strapped on a pair and stood up. It felt really weird.

"Okay, lemme see what you can do first," she ordered. I did what Gustavo would normally order me to do. Maybe this would be easy, if we could do this type of dancing. Phyllis clapped.

"I'm impressed. Those moves could pay off in the competition," she said, "But the Cha-Cha-Cha is different. It's a fast-paced, let loose dance. The first thing we need to do is practice shaking our booties." I laughed, thinking she was kidding, but her expression didn't change.

"Wait, you're not joking?" Phyllis shook her head.

"This dance is all about your butt," she explained, "Don't be scared to let your feminine side out. Don't be shy." Phyllis waited, tapping her foot. There was no way out. I relented and started shaking. She scoffed.

"You call that shaking your butt? Come on!" she urged. If I could shake better than Rihanna, that was a big problem. She demonstrated and I shook my head violently. Phyllis groaned. She came up behind me and grasped my hips. I gasped in surprise. This was off limits.

"I'm gonna start rotating your mid-section," she said, "until you shake it." Just then, a bunch of cameramen came into the room. Phyllis didn't react at all.

"Why are they here?" I whispered. She told me it was totally normal and great footage for the show. This was gonna be harder than I thought.

"The crowd will go bananas when they see you shake," she said. "Please?" I finally gave in and she cheered and gave me a hug. I felt like a goofball, but if I wanted to get to the next week, I should do it. "Yay! Next step, you put your hands on my hips and twist me out, then bring me back in." She showed me what to do and I imitated.

"Were you just staring at my boobs?" she asked with mock anger. I laughed and almost fell over.

"No, I was trying to focus…on your chest," I admitted. She giggled and adjusted her shirt.

"Okay rock step, right foot," she said, putting her hands on my shoulders, "and try not to look constipated." I bit my tongue to keep from giggling. She put her leg over my shoulder and instructed me to hold her arms and lean her backwards. We just ended up in a large, awkward heap. I pulled myself and Phyllis up.

"Let's try something easier," she suggested. "Stand behind me and put your arm around my torso." I did as I was told and suddenly felt her hand on my…backside. I jumped away.

"Illegal area! Ih-lee-gahl area!" I shouted. Phyllis rolled her eyes.

"You gotta get used to people touching you Logan," she said. "Take it from the top!" I groaned and got back in position.

BTRBTRBTRBTRBTR

"So what do you think of Phyllis Dmitry?" After hours and hours (and hours) of dancing, I sat down for my private interview. Segments of it would be put into the show.

"She's really cool," I said, "And she's very stubborn. She keeps going for something when she wants it and I like that." One person scribbled something on a notepad.

"Do you have any experience ballroom dancing?" asked a woman with red hair. I shook my head.

"God, no. I stink. Before I came to LA, I didn't know how to dance at all," I admitted. The woman nodded kindly and made a cut off motion to the cameramen.

"That'll be all. Thank you," she said before getting up and leaving. I took my inhaler out of my pocket and raised it to my lips. I've had asthma since I was five. I never really had severe attacks, but I took it everywhere I went. Phyllis bounded in to the room, doing a back handspring. She didn't face me as she took off her own shoes.

"How did your interview go? I hope you didn't secretly diss me," she laughed. When I didn't reply, she turned to me and stared. "You have asthma?" I extracted the inhaler from my lips and nodded. "Nothing to worry about. I can still dance." She nodded slowly.

"I picked out our song for the cha-cha. It's gonna be Let's Get Loud by Jennifer Lopez. Perfect, right?" Before I could tell her I wasn't really familiar with the song, she continued. "You know what would be really cool? If you could introduce me to your band." I smiled and agreed.

" 'Kay. Tomorrow after practice, we'll go," I said.

"Great. It's a date."

A/N: Like I usually do, I had a mild case of writers' block. I apologize if it stank. Vote in my new poll, Celeb Guest Stars on my profile. Leave a review!