I was waiting for the 21 people who reviewed chap 1 to review chap 2, but I have so many stories to post I am updating quicker to get them all out there!

So here's 3…

CHAPTER 3

James has been with me all day. He came to gym, he watched me eat breakfast and now he is sitting flicking through magazines while I record, not caring less about my vocals or how I feel today.

I tell Antonio that I need a break. Or a rock song. Don't ask me to sing ballads today, I beg.

"Okay, get some air," he rubs my arm with concern. "Make a call home."

Why does everyone keep saying that? I'm still fuming as I find Taylor's number and dial it in, waiting for her to pick up.

"Hello you're through to Taylor McKessies phone- message me!" Her cute voice instructs.

"Hey Tay," I look up to the Texan sky and wish I was the condor I can see sailing above me. "So I guess I'm missing you guys. Lots. Call me?" I end the call and lick my lips, looking around.

There's a little nature trail that runs beside the dirt track road of the mile long drive down to the studio and it's been intriguing me for days. I decide to go and investigate, finding the peace and quiet addictive. It's so different here than my usual run of interviews, shoots and concerts.

I frown and turn back, wondering why James didn't follow me and then I forget about it, glad of the time alone. The sense of freedom. Right now I could go anywhere. Do anything. And no-one would know. No one would even miss me….

Crack!

The unmistakeable sound of a breaking twig stops me in my tracks and I freeze, only the pounding thud of my heart to be heard as I hold my breath and feel the painful restriction of oxygen ache in my ribs.

"Hello?" I call out, too afraid to turn. I hear nothing and breath out, relaxing my stance as I take another step forward, freezing as I hear faint footsteps again, nearby, but I can't tell where.

"Hello?" I call louder, wondering if there is a dog loose, or someone running?

I gasp in panic as a hand touches my shoulder and I swing round to socker a punch in their stomach, finding James leaning over and clutching his belly in feigned pain. I know it's feigned because my knuckles are indented with his solid body.

"Miss Montez." He says, only, as if this covers everything that needs to be said.

"I thought you were some creep!" I accuse. "Why are you sneaking around after me?"

He arches a brow as if he doesn't need to remind me he is there for my safety.

"Fine, whatever," I respond in agitation, still listening hard and looking around me, sure that the sounds I had heard weren't from him.

"Antonio is looking for you, Miss." He tells me and I nod, following him dutifully.

/

"Are you okay?"

Troy is doing his daily check of my room, looking in cupboards and drawers and even vases for audio recording equipment that might be used- if we were in a spy movie that is.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I wonder, not looking up from Cosmo as I lay on my front, reading, on the bed.

"James told me you heard someone following you earlier." He stops searching through my panty drawer and looks up to check this is true.

I falter my gaze and look away, back to my 'Good sex guide.'

"Yeah, him," I smart.

"He said you were frightened." He squints as he comes over, his dark grey suit a new one, and different from the black he usually wears.

"Did he also tell you I ate a packet of Oreos for lunch and that I forgot the words to my song?" I enquire sarcastically, with a wide eyed 'well?' flick of my chin up to him.

Troy blinks patiently, resting his gentle fingers on his slim hips, riding up his suit jacket to reveal the crotch of his pants to me.

"What did you hear out there?" He asks me.

I shrug, reaching for a doughnut and taking a bite. "Just twigs snapping."

"Gabriella." The way he says my name has me looking up from my magazine with my full attention and I sigh, flipping onto my back and sitting up, cross legged on the bed, my hair piled into a messy bun and wearing my smallest pink jersey shorts set, something Troy hasn't seen me wear before.

"Okay, what do you need to know?" I ask, flicking my eyes around as I drag back the memories I wanted to forget so I might actually get some sleep tonight.

"Tell me what you heard." He repeats.

The story is really not interesting the second time round. Sure, it gives me goose bumps at the part Troy needs to hear but I finish it with a relaxed shrug, keen to forget the incident and get back to normal.

But Troy's faraway look has me on edge. "What is it, Troy?" I ask.

He presses his lips together and drops his hands, running one through his spiked hair.

"Nothing."

Right. And I'm the Queen of Sheba.

"Fine. Can I please finish reading the 'Good Sex Guide' now?" I check, making him blush. I smile in secret satisfaction.

"Don't let me stop you," he affirms, heading into the bathroom for more bug checks.

/

"Do you want to go to the beach?" Troy asks me seriously, the next morning at early breakfast.

"What?" I look up, bewildered.

"You said you wanted to just go to the beach for a day…" He reminded me of something I said yesterday.

"Not with you in that suit and sitting there not giving a crap." I sulk, thinking maybe my random outbursts have made him say this.

"How about if I change? I put on some surf shorts and some sunglasses and pretend I'm a beach whore?"

"You're still only doing it because my father is paying you to," I insist, concentrating on my eggs.

"I knock off at eight…"

"Right, like you'd want to spend your down time with me."

"I'm offering."

I stop eating and take a sigh, strangely touched by his statement knowing how formal and professional he likes to be. For him to offer to do such a thing is…unsettling. But the offer is there. And although I doubt his motives- and secretly worry about his sudden concern- I also feel a deep desire to take him up on it, just to see what it would be like.

"You'd really act normal?"

He blinks off my insult. "Scouts honour."

"And you'd blend in?"

"Absolutely."

"What about James?"

"We could give him the day off…"

"Then you'd be working."

"No, I'd be normal." He assures.

"Then who would watch me?"

"No-one."

"Like my dad would go for that." I deride.

"He doesn't need to know," he smiles slowly. "All he and James need to know is that I'm pulling another double shift because you asked."

"And you're not just doing this because I said so?" I check.

He shakes his head.

"I don't believe you."

"Does it matter if I am?" He asks honestly and I think about his question. He clearly thinks I just want my own way and to get to the beach no matter the means.

"Actually, it does." I stand and lay my crumpled napkin onto my plate, declining his invite. As if I could disappear for a whole day anyway. I have tracks to record.

/

"Ready?"

Holy. Shitballs.

Troy is standing- no, leaning- outside my room door, dressed in 'civvies' that consist of starred surf shorts in black and white, Vans and a white vest that stretches across an impressive chest from the outlines of muscle I can make out underneath the material. Not to mention his arms. (I find it best not to mention them and therefore I don't think about them. Well, okay I do. But the less I mention them the less chance there is of thinking about them. I think.)

"Ready for what?"

"The beach, of course," he frowns quizzically.

"I have to record today," I remind him, even though he is so anal about my schedule that I don't believe for one second he has forgotten this fact.

"Not any more." He smiles wanly.

"What?"

"I pulled some strings," he explains mysteriously.

"With Antonio?" I'm impressed.

He nods, his dark lashes flicking up and revealing mischievous eyes and a smile to match.

"You coming or not?" He challenges.

"I have to get changed," I turn my palms out and throw them down, gesturing to my jeans and red tunic-dress.

"Fine, hurry up…"