Chapter written by Elisa

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      Water! I need water!

      That was the one coherent thought running rampant through my mind at the moment besides the realization that my clothes were scathingly cold and clinging to my skin. Which meant my clothes were wet, which meant choosing to wear a white t-shirt today wasn’t the best idea since my red bra was probably on display for everyone.

      My thoughts resumed their erratic compilation.

      My throat hurts like hell! Why can’t I open my eyes? Something cold is clasped around my wrist, what the hell! Why is my butt stuck to a chair? Why do I taste chlorine? Am I dead? I am so gonna haunt Krystof Moreau now! I wonder if I’m allowed to humiliate him in public? Maybe I could pants him during a concert and–

      My thoughts came crashing to a halt when a pair of voices registered in my ears. They were somewhat familiar, one more so than the other.

      “Do you think she’s dead?”

      “No, you idiot! Don’t you see her chest moving?”

      “I’m trying really hard not to look there . . .”

      “Bro, why did you throw her off the balcony in the first place?”

      “I told you, man! I thought she was trying to kill me!”

      “But she’s so hot . . .”

      “The hot ones are always evil, Zach.” I felt the urge to roll my eyes, even though they were closed. Was getting thrown off balconies what I had to do to get complimented by a superstar? If I had known - Nah, I’m not that desperate.

      Something warm probed at my cheek. “Hey,” another poke to my face. “Hot lady . . . hey, wake up!”

      “Move, Zach. Let me show you how it’s done . . .”

      Everything fell into an eerie silence.

      And suddenly my ear drum felt about ready to burst. “Wake up, imbecile!”

      What the hell? Just how rude were boy bands these days? I think I was starting to see a trend with superstars now.

      I jolted up, eyes wide and alert. My gaze closed in on the four boys standing before me.

      It was Just Past Paradise, and the boys looked as suave as ever, decked out in designer clothes and heavy cologne while I was sitting here in wet transparent clothes . . . Hey, why were they all staring at my chest? Dammit! I knew a lot of girls would probably kill to be in my position right now, but I didn’t really feel affected. I guess getting thrown off balconies does that to you.

      Just as I was about to scold the four perverts, I remembered Krystof Moreau had pushed me off his balcony, and almost killed me.

      “Oh my God. You tried to kill me! All I wanted was my freaking ID. I would have just tracked down Jet and murdered his Chihuahua if I knew this was going to happen! I wish Beyoncé had pushed me off her balcony and not you! You know why? Cause’ she would have wanted to kiss Jay-Z, not me, you asshole!”

      The youngest of the band, a lanky boy named Zach Hendricks whose ebony hair was slathered with gel, spoke up now, casting me a weary green-eyed glance. “What’s she talking about?”

      Leo Shields, the one with shaggy blond hair and eyes as cerulean as sea glass, answered for Zach. “One time, I was watching the History Channel and I heard that you can get unsmart from staying underwater too long . . .”

      Krystof Moreau shoved his fist into Leo’s arm with a scowl. “You’re obviously the moronic one here, you idiot!”

      Leo sniffed the air vehemently, tousling his tawny tresses. “Am not!” I looked between the two. They were a lot different than how they seemed in interviews. Yeah, they were bickering, but they all had a cautious edge to their eyes. Even little old Zach.

      “Oh really? Would you like to tell me what dictionary homes the word ‘unsmart?’?” Krystof shook his head in disbelief, billows of brown hair fanning out against his forehead.

      The oldest member of the band and probably the wisest, finally chose to speak. Wyatt Hendricks shoved his golden bangs back, umber eyes liquefying. “Krystof has a point, Leo. Unsmart isn’t a real word . . .”

      Leo crossed his arms, a grimace blooming across the planes of his chiseled face. “Whatever. You guys are lame.”

      Zach grinned, twisting his wrist forward. “My new Rolex is totally not lame!”

      Leo clutched Zach’s arm with wide blue eyes. “Is that from the new Imperial Collection? How did you get it? Those aren’t even in stores yet!”

      Zach smirked, yanking his arm back and stroking his new watch. “Please refer to my watch as Dr. Sexy.” I, along with everyone else, turned to stare at him incredulously. I should record this. Then sell it to the magazines. The media would have a field day.

      Leo quirked a blond eyebrow. “Are you asking me to talk to your watch?” he asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

      Zach coughed. “Dr. Sexy.”

      With a sigh, Leo shifted from foot to foot. “Are you asking me to talk to Dr.Sexy?”

      I tuned out the boy’s blathered babble and instead focused on standing up. Unfortunately, some imbecile (oh great! Now his stupid vocabulary’s rubbed off on me) decided to hand cuff me to the chair I was sprawled across, so standing up wasn’t really an option.

      “Hey,” I growled, thrashing in my seat. “Let me out of here!”

      Everyone lapsed into a hushed silence, then simultaneously, all four boys were standing in front of me. Their eyes roamed over my dingy figure, scrutinizing every crevice and crack of me.

      Leo suddenly narrowed his azure eyes, leaning into me. “Who are you working for–”

      “Wait!” Zach shouted, cutting off Leo, his palms frozen mid air. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flashlight, switching it on and pointing the blinding light in my face. “Dramatic lighting, check. Hot hostage girl, check. A bunch of sexy interrogators, check. Okay, continue.”

      I cringed away from the light, grimacing and giving another feeble struggle. “I’ll report you guys if you don’t let me go! You have officially lost a fan. Don’t expect me to buy your new album!”

      Leo grinned devilishly. “Don’t worry; there are millions of other girls willing to buy it.”

      “Why am I here?” I snarled, ignoring the blond that was proving to be a lot more charming on TV than in reality and jerking around in the manacles chained around my raw wrists.

      “We ask the questions around here! Follow the script, lady!” Zach shoved the flashlight further into my face.

      Wyatt pushed through the boys then, his notorious mask of impassivity set in place. “Cut the theatrics, guys. Now, Harley is it? We just want to ask you a few questions . . .”

      I set my jaw, slumping into the chair, and closing my eyes.

      They weren’t getting jack squat from me until my hands were free.

      “Why were you climbing up our balcony?” Leo fired.

      Silence.

      “Were you trying to kill Krystof?” Wyatt tried.

      More silence.

      Did they do this to fans too? Tie them to chairs and interrogate them? Doesn’t sound like a nice way to treat people who are the only reason you’re rich and famous. Okay, that was mean, but they have me freaking handcuffed to a chair! Yes, I climbed onto their balcony, but this is extreme. I swear, I’ve never met anyone as paranoid as they seemed right now.

      “Who are you working for? TOR?” Krystof demanded. Right, like I was gonna respond to him.

      Even more silence filled the room.

      What was TOR anyway? As far as I knew, there wasn’t any magazine named that.

      “Are you single?”

      My head whipped upwards, eyelids flying open. “What?” Dammit! So much for the silent treatment.

      Zach smiled coyly, scratching his head. “I said, why do you have a problem with Just Past Paradise?”

      “I didn’t have a problem with any of you up until the moment your buddy tossed me over his balcony!” I blurted out before I could stop myself. I looked Krystof straight in the eye, my fists tingling. I wanted to punch him so badly right now. He’d probably charge me for assault, though. Not to mention I couldn’t move my arms.

      Krystof hunkered down, eyeing me. “Look Hailey, we just want to know what you were doing climbing up our balcony. For all we know, you could be a serial killer.”

      “One time I burned a box of Cheerios. My cousin called me a cereal killer after that . . .”

      Krystof sighed, massaging his temples. “Shut the hell up, Leo.”

      “My name is Harley and for all I know, you could be an alleged sex offender. You practically raped me on your terrace,” I cut in.

      Krystof rolled his eyes. “It isn’t rape if you enjoy it, Hayden.”

      “You’re a jerk who can’t seem to comprehend any names, other than his own. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy anything with you. Except maybe what I’m going to do to you in a second,” I hissed, not even bothering to correct him this time. I knew he knew my name and he had said it before he had sent me plummeting three stories down.

      Wyatt began to interfere, but Krystof held up a patient hand. “There isn’t much you can do to me when you’re chained to a chair, Hanna–”

      Krystof Moreau was cut off by my leg thrusting forward, straight into his family jewels. Fan girls around the world would kill me if they ever found out, but for now, it was worth it. Totally and completely worth it. His eyes went wide, and he was suddenly on the floor, clutching his pants and groaning. “My wrists are handcuffed, Mr. Moreau. Not my feet. Next time, try using that pretty head of yours for something other than witty comebacks.”

      Zach burst into snickers, pointing an accusing finger at Krystof. “You just got told by a girl!”

      Leo guffawed, chiming in, “Yeah, Kristy. Your dignity called. It wants it’s thong back.”

      Wyatt, being the so called mature one, even let a small chuckle burst from his lips, though he tried to mask it by a cough that fooled no one.

      “When you guys are done finding amusement in your bandmate’s pain, my foot is ready for another victim,” I smirked suddenly, twirling my ankle before the three guys still standing.

      They all took a step back with wide eyes.

      Krystof moaned, rolling around on the floor. “Someone needs to call in the SWAT team. I want this girl dead ASAP.”

      “I have their number memorized. Why don’t I dial them for you, Kristy?” I offered, smiling sweetly.

      Krystof glowered up at me. “You’re going to wish you’d died when I pushed you off my balcony, Harper.” I returned his glare with one of my own.

      I cut it short by turning to look at Wyatt. “Get me out of this chair, and I’ll answer your questions,” I compromised.

      “No way in hell,” Zach said immediately. “What if you run?”

      I snorted. “It’s me against you four - I mean three,” I corrected, shooting a glance at Krystof who was still sprawled out on the floor. “It’s not like I’m not some kind of CIA ninja. What do you think is going to happen?”

      After a moment of everyone staring at each other, Wyatt stepped forward and undid the cuffs bounding me to my chair.

      “Are you insane? She’s dangerous!” Krystof inserted with a wince. Wyatt’s hands were still wrapped around my wrists, preventing me from being able to stretch my arms.

      “Leo?” he asked quietly from behind me. Leo shot me a charming smile then stepped around me to switch positions with Wyatt. His rough fingers brushed across my skin and an electrifying tingle shot up my arm, but before I could really think about it, Wyatt started his questioning again.

      “Who do you work for?” he asked. I blinked at him. Why were they so obsessed with this question? This was, what, the fourth time I had been asked?

      “No one,” I replied simply. Wyatt and Krystof both narrowed their eyes at me skeptically. I sighed. “I don’t work for any magazine, and I don’t have some kind of secret camera or recording device on me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

      “We know you don’t, I already checked you for that,” Zach told me, a mixture of cheekiness and almost pride in his voice. I wasn’t sure whether I should blush or roll my eyes.

      “Why were you trying to get onto our balcony?” Wyatt continued, ignoring his younger brother.

      Before I could answer, a banging came from said place. We all looked over to see a figure cloaked in black holding a camera, through their glass sliding doors. Leo let out a low curse and swiftly yanked me to my feet before spinning me around, into something akin to a hug. Zach moved between us and the balcony doors, effectively blocking us from the paparazzo’s view.

      “Hey Kristy, aren’t you going to push that guy off your balcony? That is your hobby, right?” I asked Krystof as Wyatt quickly locked the doors and pulled the curtains shut. He yanked out his cell phone and walked out of the room. Leo released me as Zach helped Krystof to his feet.

      “You know what this means, right?” Wyatt asked, returning a couple moments later. They all exchanged a quick glance before nodding.

      “What? What does it mean?” I asked, my voice just a bit higher than it should’ve been. Please don’t say I’m getting arrested. Please don’t say you called the police. I’ve avoided them for this long, I don’t want to get caught now.

      Leo shot me a weak smile. “You just might be spending a lot more time around us, Chum-chum.”