IMAGINES: Celebrity Encounters Starring You (41 page)

Stephanie raises a brow, like she’s about to ask what you’re smiling about, but then Amy’s tugging on her arm, saying they’re going to miss the next panel, and Stephanie turns away.

You trail behind them into the auditorium, still smiling, fingers wrapped around the little white card in your pocket.

Y
ou pick up your ringing phone as you drive the lonely road taking you out of Los Angeles.

“I have news,” you say immediately.

“
Good
news
?
” Zack asks from the other end.

“Yup,” you confirm. “I’m in.”

“Are you sure? I’m counting on you to
rock
this party.”

Sure? After you’ve
borrowed
your
dear
stepfather’s car, there’s no turning back. You wish you could see Jeff’s face. Your stepfather will go nuts when he doesn’t find his precious Dodge parked outside the house. Well, he should have thought carefully before making a reckless move like marrying a woman with a good,
obedient
kid like you.

“Did you say that to Chris too, before he turned you down?” you gloat. You should have been called from the beginning.

“I told you it was a mistake—you know you’ve always been my man.”

“Good. I see you’ve learnt the lesson.”

“Yes, I have.” He sighs. “Please, it’s going to be a night to remember. Don’t ruin it.”

Then suddenly a beep cuts short the conversation. Looking at your phone, you see there’s no coverage.
Damn you, Zack!
The venue he has picked for that party is cool, but the road to it is
abandoned and a bit treacherous. You haven’t even seen a vehicle in the last twenty minutes, until just as you think that, you spot a white Ford Escape on the right side of the road. You slow down to check it out, but you see no one there. Who would leave such a ride in this deserted place?

“Hey! Over here!”

Startled by the feminine cry that comes from nowhere, you press the brakes, the wheels squealing.

A black-haired, slender chick wearing a red T-shirt and gray pants appears in the rearview mirror, waving with both hands.
How did you not notice her when you passed by her vehicle?
Anyway, that doesn’t matter. You move the shift into reverse to return to that damsel in distress. With that wheel wrench she’s holding, it’s not hard to guess she needs your help. And you would never turn your back to helpless, cute girls. Especially ones who look like—

Crack!

“Stop! Stop!
Stop!
What the hell?” she screams.

Quite an impressive entrance—hitting the bumper of her car. “I’m terribly sorry!” You hurry outside the car to the furious chick.

“Where were you looking at? Dammit!” she yells.

“I’m so sorry. I was looking at . . .”
Oh
 . . .
my
 . . .
God!

You clear your throat, trying to sound as confident as possible. “You’re Selena Gomez, right?” A celeb like her won’t be much impressed by a freaking-out fan. Gaping like an idiot at this pair of chocolate-brown eyes is not going to help. She’s just a girl. . . . Well, a
sweet
girl whose car you just hit.

“Yes, it’s me.” She glares. “Now that we’ve established that—look what you’ve done to my car!”

You bend over her bumper, which is a bit bent. “I’ll be glad to fix this. I know a whiz in my neighborhood who can make
your bumper as good as new.” You give her one of your trademark smiles, which usually works.

“No, thanks. I have a guy who can do that,” she replies impassively. You see that hesitation on her face before she says, “But you may help me change this tire. The nuts are too tight to loosen.”

Hah!
Sel is in a predicament, and you’re her only hope to get out of it. Time to show off the fruits of your workout. “Let me handle this for you.” You smile cockily. “This is not a job for your soft arms.”

She looks cute when she arches an eyebrow, handing you the wrench, which you take easily.

You look over your shoulder. “Did you put on the emergency brake?”

“Yes,” she says with an irked exhalation.

“Did you put the car in gear? You know, you must—”

“It’s an automatic. It’s in park. I know some basics.”

“Good,” you harrumph as you try to loosen the wheel nuts with the wrench, but the wrench barely moves. “You know what?” You manage a smile, looking at her, hoping you distract her from observing your
progress
. So far you’ve turned this metal piece of junk one inch. “You’re taller than I thought.”

She approaches. “Need help, tough guy?” You can’t mistake that mocking tone in her voice.

“No, no, I can handle this.” You press your lips together, your hands grasping that damned wrench with all the strength you’ve got.
I can’t ruin this. It’s Selena!

“I may stop another car.”

“
No
!” you insist. You will never forgive yourself if you let that happen. “I’ve got this.” You stand on the wrench, pushing your whole weight down, and at last that rusty thing squeals. Now you squat down to give your arms one more try with the wrench, and
yes
! The nuts surrender. Victory.

“Told ya,” you gloat.

You raise the vehicle with the jack and remove the nuts and the tire. As you rise to bring the spare tire from the trunk, you notice the two huge suitcases on the ground she took out already to get at the spare.

And what a lucky day—the spare tire is flat as well.

“This tire is not going to work.” You point at it, doing your best to hide your grin. “When was the last time you used it?”

“Shit! I don’t remember,” she snaps, holding her head with both hands, her eyes fixed on the spare. “What am I going to do now?”

“Let me take you where you want to go,” you offer.

“I can’t believe this is really happening.” She smirks, looking down, shaking her head. “A dead phone, a flat tire, and a flat
spare
tire—all on the same day! What day is it today?”

You’re not sure whether she’s asking you or letting off some steam. You shrug. “Saturday?”

Selena looks awkward when she stares at you. “Saturday?” she echoes. “And now it’s you.”

“Yes . . . me.” Now you’re really confused. Is that a joke or a complaint?

“I’m not sure if I want to do this.” She presses her lips together, her arms folded. “I’ve seen enough of your driving skills.”

“You haven’t seen the worst yet.” You give her a one-sided smile. “Come on. You’re not staying here in the woods on your own.”

“I have no choice, then.” She gazes at both ends of the road, desperately looking for any coming vehicle. “I hope I’m not hindering you.”

“I don’t like being late, but
I have no choice, then, either.
”

“Can you just take me back to LA, and I’ll see what’s to be done with this car?”

“As you wish.” You return her luggage to the Ford’s trunk and grab the spare tire to get it fixed.

“Señorita, por favor.”
You grin, motioning her toward your car. The right side of her mouth quirks upward as she opens the door and sits shotgun.

“Nice ride. This is
your
car?”

“What do you think? I stole it or something?” You chuckle. “Of course it’s mine.”

She shoots you a doubtful look as she buckles her seat belt. “You could have simply said
yes
.”

She’s right,
you think. Now you have to be careful of what you say. For some freaking cosmic coincidence, a five-star celeb sits next to you in
your
car. If you’re still alive seventy years later, you’ll still be telling everybody about the day you cruised the legendary Selena Gomez. “She liked me, kids,” you’ll tell your
cool
grandchildren. “You know what, I got swagger more than you when I was your age.”

Right now, since you’re writing a story-of-a-lifetime ride, you should do something worth telling. That may sound crazy, but imagine the stunned looks on their faces when you enter Zack’s party with
Sel
holding your hand.
Boom!
That’s what you call an epic entrance. But how can you
persuade
her to do so?
Think. Think. Think. Think.

“Excuse me,” Selena’s voice interrupts your thoughts, “but I think you’re going the wrong way.” She points backward with her thumb.

Only with her words do you realize you’ve been driving to the hills. “Oh! My bad!” You were on autopilot, but getting her to the party won’t be that easy. You have to play it nice.

You turn around, heading to LA. “I never thought that someone like you would be driving around here by herself.”

She looks back at the vacant seats. “I don’t see
your
friends cramming the car.”

“You got me!” You laugh. “Well, I have many friends waiting for me in Palm Hills. We’re having an awesome party tonight.”

“I hope you won’t miss any second of your awesome party because of me,” she says drily. “I would never forgive myself.”

“Miss what? That party can’t start without me.
I’m
the party, Selena. Didn’t I tell you? I’m an artist too, albeit a bit less famous than you.”

“No kidding.” She can’t help laughing, leaning to the door, looking at you.

“I’m a DJ, and I sing too. No me, no party tonight.”

“Be careful, Mr. Party,” she teases. “Arrogance can kill your artistic career.”

“You know what? You should come and watch my performance.”

“Watch your performance.” She slowly nods, turning her eyes to the road ahead. “Yeah, why not? One day.”

She doesn’t mean it, you know. Once she returns to Los Angeles, she’s gone. And just as you’re thinking that, you come upon an unfamiliar intersection. Why don’t you remember having seen it on your way up here?

“Why are we slowing down?” asks Selena.

Telling her the truth won’t be a good idea. You should take your chances and pick a road.
Right or left? Right or left?
Were you asleep while driving? All you remember is the sight of trees on both sides. And
damn
! The two roads look identical with those damned trees.

She studies your face. “You don’t know where we are now, do you?”

“I’m following my gut feeling,” you say.

“Your ‘gut feeling’? That doesn’t sound good. I believe we should rely on something . . . you know . . . reliable.” She pushes her hands in her pockets as if she’s looking for something before she closes her eyes, tilting her head back in frustration. “Dammit! Can this day get any worse?”

“What is it?”

“My phone!” she snaps. “I left everything in my car!”

“Just stay calm,” you reassure her. “We can return to your car if you want.”

“Can we? I thought we were lost.” Her lack of confidence in you really doesn’t help.

“It won’t be hard. We’ll just go back the way we came.”

You slow down before you make a U-turn. After a few minutes she excitedly exclaims, “You see that?” She points straight ahead. “A car!”

You gaze through the front windshield and, yes, she’s right; a car is coming toward you. A police car.

Her eyes narrow as you hear the siren and see the lights flash. The police car slows down in the middle of the narrow road, barely leaving a space for you to pass through. Obviously, the police want you to stop.

But you
don’t
stop. . . .

And you don’t really know why. You bolt past the cop car, almost hitting its bumper.

“What the hell are you doing?” Selena cries.

“Nothing.” You shrug as if
nothing
has happened. “Just passing through.”

“Bullshit!” she snaps. “You should have stopped!”

The wheels of the police car squeal as it turns around and follows you. “But why? I did nothing wrong.”

“Well, you did now—pull over!” she yells.

Maybe you should listen to her. That policeman on your ass must be pissed off. No, that will be a bad idea; what are you going to do if he requests your license? You know, the one you don’t actually have?

“I said pull over!” Selena Gomez insists, but you accelerate. “I swear I’ll pull the emergency brake!”

You shake your head, chuckling. “You’re not doing that.”

“You think so?” She arches an eyebrow. “Watch me.”

Until the last second, you’re sure she’s bluffing. But sadly enough, she’s not. Selena pulls the emergency brake, and the car stops at once, your head jerking violently forward. Thanks to the seat belt, you avoid a deadly steering-wheel head butt. Two seconds later, you realize that the worst hasn’t happened . . . yet.

The police car crashes into you from behind. Selena screams.

“What have you done?
Are you out of your mind?
” you exclaim, forgetting you’re talking to
the
Selena Gomez. You’re just too mad with fury and adrenaline to consider it at the moment.

“It’s you who’s out of his mind!” she yells.

“Freeze!”

A gray-haired officer hurries out of his crashed vehicle, pointing a gun at both of you.

“Wow! Wow! Easy, Officer.” You wave to him.

“Step out of the vehicle! Let me see your hands over your heads!” he commands.

“All right, all right.” You raise your hands as he asks, getting out of the car. “There’s been a big misunderstanding, Officer.”

“You, too, señorita.” He motions her with his gun.

“Me? I did nothing wrong!”

“This is how you return the favor of me picking you up?” you simper.

“Enough of this bullshit.” The officer is still pointing his gun at you. “Your hands up. Come here next to your friend.”

She gnashes her teeth, glaring at you. “Thanks for the favor.” Getting out, she stands beside you, both of you facing the Dodge.

You decide to try your chances as he searches you. “Let me explain, Officer. It was all my fault. I was just confused when I saw your car.”

“Where are the drugs, boy?”

“Drugs?” you exclaim. “No, no, no, no, no! I don’t have drugs!”