"Now how about you tell me the truth?" Dylan asked, stopping my door with his hand and looking down at me, like he could see right through my lie.

I broke eye contact and looked down at the floor as I stepped back and opened the door again.

"What do you mean?" I asked, and Dylan walked past me into the living room and sat down on the couch.

"You've been acting weird ever since the movie. If you didn't like it you can just tell me. You don't have to sugarcoat to keep from hurting my feelings you know? What was it? Did you think my acting was bad?"

I walked over and sat on the couch too, leaving a big space between us. I lifted my head and looked into his eyes and I could tell how much the movie meant to him. It was obvious how important it was to him that it be good.

"No Dylan. Your acting in it was amazing."

"What is it then?" he asked, waiting. "Do you not like movies or something?"

I shrugged. "Sometimes I do, if I'm in the mood to watch one. I'm more of a reader though. I guess I get that from my Dad. Growing up I'd go to work with him at the library in the summers so I wouldn't be home alone all day and I'd read on a couch for hours to pass the time."

"What about your Mom? Couldn't you have stayed with her during the summer?" he asked.

"No," I said, looking down at my feet. "She ummmm. She died when I was five of a heart attack. It was just me and my Dad."

"Oh," he said, pausing for a minute before saying, "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," I said, lifting my eyes and looking at him. "It was a long time ago and I was so young I barely remember her. I have flashes of memories here and there though and I don't know if I dreamed them or if they're real, like the way she smelled, the way she ran her fingers through my hair or the sound of her voice when she would read a story to me at night before bed."

I sat there and thought about it and felt sad, with both of us getting quiet.

"I'm really sorry about your Mom," he said quietly and I nodded my head and we sat there in awkward silence for a minute.

"So why did you leave the movie premiere then Brenley?" he asked quietly.

I could tell he wasn't going to let this go so I took a deep breath in and let it out before looking down at my hands.

"I just, ummmm, started feeling uncomfortable and felt like I needed to leave. I didn't know anybody there besides you and you were busy with Rose and I kind of felt like a third wheel. It was obvious you two wanted to be alone and I was just in the way, so I left."

I looked up at him and he had a guilty look on his face.

"I'm sorry. I feel like a total ass. I didn't even think about the fact that you didn't know anybody besides me and I was letting Rose distract me from hanging out with you. I didn't even want to be alone with her Brenley."

I turned my head to the side, thinking about that. "It sure looked like you did," I said quietly, crossing my arms and looking down at the floor.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "She came on to me and I turned her down and told her no. She actually has a fiance."

"Seriously?" I asked. "She has a fiance? Wow. Poor guy."

"Yeah," he said, letting out a breath. "It definitely wasn't what it looked like. I don't find cheaters attractive and I have no interest in messing with another man's woman. I'm not like that. I'm not interested in her at all."

I lifted my eyes, looking up at him.

He studied my eyes and I wondered what he was thinking. He hesitated before finally asking, "Does it make you happy to hear that?"

His gaze was intense and made my face flush red as I looked away and tucked my hair behind my ear. I looked down at my hands and said, "Yeah."

"Why?" he asked softly. "I heard what you told Scott and Melissa. You said you had no interest in dating a celebrity."

"I don't. That's the problem," I said, lifting my eyes and looking into his again. "I hate the celebrity lifestyle; paparazzi following your every move and making up lies about you, never knowing who you can trust and who's going to sell your secrets to the tabloids, all the partying and drugs. And all that seems to matter to people out here is how much more rich and famous they can get no matter what unethical bullshit they have to do to get it."

I looked down at my hands and said, "And I can't even imagine being with a man that has sex scenes in movies with other women and being expected to be okay with that because it's 'just work'. I could never be okay with that."

He sat there and took in my words without saying anything.

I exhaled and looked up at him, giving him a weak smile. "After getting to know you, you seem like a great guy Dylan, but you can't change who you are any more than I can. We're from two different worlds."

It was really hard to say that to him but it was the truth.

He looked down at his hands, thinking for a minute before saying. "Yeah I guess you're right. I ummmm. I think I better go."

He slowly got up and walked towards the door, and before he walked through it he turned around and looked back at me and asked, "If things were different. If I wasn't an actor and I didn't live in Hollywood, would you have given me a chance?"

I looked at him, searching my heart for the answer and I gave him a weak smile before softly saying, "Yeah."

He gripped onto the side of the door, looking down and letting out an exhale before saying, "For what it's worth, I think you're the best person I've met since I moved out here to California. You're real and you're honest and you don't want things given to you you didn't earn. No matter what happens, don't let anyone change you."

Then he walked out and closed the door behind him and he was gone.

I let out an exhale, shaking my head. If things were different I knew we could've been a really good couple. I slowly got up and stretched before going upstairs and taking a shower and changing into my pajamas. I drank some water and took some Tylenol before slipping into bed. I sent the photos from the movie premiere to my Dad, Dave and Ellie in the group text and told them I was too tired to talk tonight but that I'd call tomorrow before closing my eyes and falling right to sleep.

The next morning I heard a knock on my bedroom door and I blinked my eyes to adjust to the light and croaked out, "Come in."

It was Dylan and he was already dressed and looking like a runway model and here I was in bed with my hair all over, probably looking like a total mess.

"Hey," he said with a warm smile, sitting on the edge of my bed. "I got to thinking last night. The whole point of this sweepstakes was for you to see what it was like to live like a celebrity for a week but you hate celebrity stuff. So all I've been doing since you've been here was forcing you to do things you hate the whole time and then it's no wonder you've been completely miserable."

"What are you suggesting?" I asked, sitting up and running my hands through my hair to tame the fly-aways.

"I'm suggesting we change up the schedule and today we only do things you like to do instead. You can plan everything. The sky's the limit. No budget. What do you say?"

"Really?"

"Yeah," he nodded, smiling. "Really. So what would you like to do?"

I sat there thinking, trying to wake up my foggy morning brain that desperately needed coffee.

"Well, I do have one idea, but it wouldn't work if people knew who you were. Do you have any kind of disguise that's really good?" I asked.

"I'm friends with a special effects guy that's worked on movies with me before. He could give me a disguise so good my own Mom wouldn't recognize me."

"That's perfect," I smiled. "Why don't you call him and see if he's available while I work on putting together my plan of what I want to do?"

"Ok. I can do that," he said, getting up and heading out of my room while I grabbed my laptop and started searching and scribbling notes and making phone calls. I had never gotten to plan things to do without a budget before, but I didn't feel like doing anything expensive.

I decided I'd rather spend today with him, reminding him what it's like to be a regular person again. Three hours later, right after I had finished getting everything planned out there was a knock at my bedroom door.

"Come in!" I called out, assuming it was Dylan.

I looked up and there was an old guy that looked to be in his early 60's wearing a fishing hat and grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I figured he must be Dylan's Dad or Grandpa.

"Hello," I said, standing up to greet him. "I'm Brenley."

I shook his hand and he just stood there and looked at me and didn't say anything. Well this was getting kind of awkward.

"Are you related to Dylan? Or a friend of his?" I asked.

When he didn't say anything for a few seconds I started to feel uncomfortable, looking around for anything I could use as a weapon in case he tried to touch me.

"Yeah. You could say that. We're very, very close," he said in a thick British accent.

"Oh. Are you here to visit him? He's up at the main house right now," I said, feeling awkward as he stepped closer.

"No," he said, looking me up and down and licking his lips. "I'm here to visit you beautiful."

My eyes widened and I knew in that moment I was going to have to knee him in the balls and make a run for it.