Kind of short chapter and for that I'm sorry but I really wanted to post something this week! It's my birthday tomorrow so I was wondering if I could ask for review-shaped pressies? Ha, ha. I kind of like this chapter, even if I felt like a traitor with every word!

A loud alarm sounded, and the gate pulled back. Before I'd even stepped over the threshold out of the cell, Paul wedged his arm under my armpit and tugged. I nearly tripped over my own feet.

"Thanks again, officer," Paul said, with a curt nod to the beefy guy who stood at the desk now, and was surveying me with a look that suggested I had committed murder, or something.

I mean, please. I might have ended up in jail, but I was totally innocent.

Too bad Paul didn't believe that.

"Paul, please," I begged, as he walked me up the row of cells and towards the double doors that led out into the night. "I wasn't doing drugs – believe me." Kelly, on the other hand, was doing a bad job of protesting her innocence. She wandered behind us, half-dazed and abandoned by Paul, groaning every now and again and pressing a hand to her forehead whenever we passed under an electric light.

Paul ignored me. "Do you have any idea what this could do to your career, Suze?" he demanded, and gave me a rough shove out of the door. "First some kind of messed-up love affair making the tabloids, and now drugs at a nightclub – whilst you were supposed to be at a record label party, might I add?"

"At least I have an alibi," I remarked, weakly, but unsurprisingly he pretended he hadn't heard me. Paul checked left and right before giving me the go ahead to wander out to the car. The last thing I needed, he'd told me about a hundred times already, was to be snapped by some paparazzo outside the jailhouse and have my career in ruins before it had really begun.

"Get in," Paul urged me, and gave my shoulder another rough push towards the car. I rubbed my skin defensively, before deciding to stand my ground. He looked at me like I was insane. "What are you doing?" he hissed. "Get in before somebody sees you."

"I think you're being a little oversensitive," I said, not – as he was – making an effort to lower my voice. "Are you really worried about me being in the tabloids, or about how this is going to black mark your record if it gets out?"

Kelly made a retching sound and pushed her way past us into the car. Paul looked positively murderous (well, he had come to the right place) for a few seconds, before seizing my upper arm in a vice-like grip and practically throwing me head first into the back of the limousine and slamming the door behind us.

"Are you crazy?" he roared, as the car began to move. "You stupid, infantile little girl! You could have ruined both of us back there!" To be honest, I hadn't any idea why I'd done it. If I'd have had any common sense I'd have gotten straight in the limo and keep quiet till I was spoken to.

Well, if we're talking about common sense, I should have never left the party, really.

I settled for mumbling an apology and looking the other way. The car was eerily silent for a few minutes – obviously the amount of time it took Paul to come up with another way to trash me.

"I don't know what's gotten into you," he announced, suddenly, like I was the rebellious teenager and he was my father. "I mean, you were on the rails until last week. What is it – attention-seeking? Do you seriously feel like you are lacking attention at this moment in time? Do I need to remind you that you are currently number one most sought-after person in the whole of America?"

I didn't know which – if any – question he wanted me to answer first, so I slumped silently back in my chair and let my eyes flick over absent-mindedly to Kelly, who now lay horizontal further up the limo and was snoring gently. I didn't know if it was the mention of attention-seekers or what, but I suddenly felt the need to bring up their dysfunctional relationship.

"Why are you riding me, so much, Paul?" I demanded. "I mean, Kelly's your girlfriend. Why aren't you interrogating the crap out of her as well?" This seemed to throw him, and he joined me in watching as Kelly swatted an imaginary fly and rolled over in her sleep.

"Apart from the obvious?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction of Kelly's inebriated form. "Come on, Suze, you know how she is. Cares more about the fame than me." His eyes – which had been filled with something close to loathing a few seconds ago – now softened, and I actually felt a little sorry for him. Must suck to be the boyfriend of Kelly Prescott.

We spent the rest of the ride without talking, the silence instead filled by Kelly's irregular snoring. I looked out the window, watching the orange streetlights whizzing by like shooting stars and wondering what could possibly happen once I got out of the car. Paul might have run out of steam now, but I couldn't completely guarantee he was finished with me yet.

It was – as the blinking digital clock in front of me told me – gone 1 a.m. by the time we reached the hotel we were staying in. This hotel was beginning to look more and more like home everything we arrived at it – it was far fresher in my memory than my real house back in Pine Crest Drive. For a second I felt a pang of homesickness before the limousine lurched to a stop and Kelly rolled off her seat and onto the floor.

"Ah, ah, ah," Paul chastised, as I leant sleepily on the reception desk to ask for my key. "My room, Suze. This isn't over."

"But-" I argued, but before I could finish, Kelly – who was draped sloppily over Paul's shoulder – suddenly coughed loudly and copiously threw up all over the lobby floor. I turned away in disgust and began heading upstairs, where who knew what waited for me.

-x-

I was sitting on the bed when I finally heard the key scrape the lock, and my stomach dropped. He'd been half an hour dealing with Kelly, and God knows how many fresh insults he had managed to come up with in that time. I stood up as he entered the room, and one look at his expression told me to suddenly become interested in my feet. I shifted my weight uneasily, and waited for him to speak first.

"Suze," he said, finally. "You know you messed up, I don't have to tell you that."

"I didn't do anything," I protested, looking up, and feeling my anger rise within me immediately. "It was your stupid girlfriend who had the drugs, I was trying to get her to leave-"

"What were you even doing there?" Paul demanded, taking a step closer. "I specifically told you not to leave that record company party tonight for your own good and you completely disobeyed me! You think I liked looking like a fool when it was time for your live performance?"

"I don't have to do everything you say," I argued sullenly, like a spoilt toddler. "I'm my own person, you don't own me!"

"Suze," Paul said again. He took another step closer and formed a manacle around my arm with his strong, brown fingers. I tried to shake him off with little success.

"Get offa me!" I screamed, jerking my arm wildly. "What is the matter with you? Why are you just so pissed off with me all the time? Can't I do anything right-?"

I didn't get chance to finish, however, as Paul gave me one final tug into his arms and covered my mouth quite inexorably with his.

Oh my God. I was kissing Paul! I was –

He lifted me up like I was weightless and placed me on his dressing table so I could wrap my legs around his waist. My hands were in his hair as he explored my mouth and his hands explored my abdomen. The further his fingers went up my body the harder I found it to breathe. I had to do something – anything – to stop the intense fire I could feel flowing through me, but it turned out Paul read my mind. He was this close to slipping the button off my trousers before –

"Paul?"

It was a small voice, one so small I didn't even know how we had heard it through our heavy breathing. But suddenly he dropped me like I was on fire and whirled around. Running a clammy hand through my hair I peered over Paul's shoulder to see Kelly standing in the doorway of Paul's hotel room, staring open-mouthed at us with an expression that made my heart feel like it had been sliced in two. I felt guiltier than I had ever done before, and slid off the dressing table as quick as I could. But it was too late. Kelly had seen.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Only she didn't say hell. And I didn't particularly blame her.