"So you guys are sure you're not related in any way," I was saying.

We were sitting on location at a beach in Rome. Mr. Director gave us a few minutes for a break while the cameraman made some adjustments. I was drawing figures into the sand with a stick I had found.

"Pretty sure," Zac replied.

"But you two look so similar!" I exclaimed.

"That's what everyone says. We're not related, though," Duke replied.

"It's also why we were both picked for this movie," Zac added.

"Brothers and what-not," Duke said.

"Maybe one of you was adopted and you really are related somehow," I suggested. They both looked at each other and shook their heads. "Hey, it could happen!" I said.

"She's only been in Hollywood for a week and she's already thinking like a crazy screen-writer," Zac said. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, who knows. If I don't find a good job anywhere, I'll take up directing films," I said sarcastically.

"Good thing you know two of the best looking people in Hollywood," Duke said, smirking.

"Well, Zac's one. Who's the other good looking person?" I asked, smirking right back at him. Duke picked up a fistful of sand and threw it at me. I laughed and shielded my face.

"All right guys! We're ready for another take!" we heard.

"Duty calls," Zac said, getting up and brushing the sand from the board shorts he was wearing.

I watched as the two of them walked towards the set. They were both shirtless and wearing surf shorts for the shot. Duke was taller and more muscular than Zac was. Zac was tanner than Duke. But they both strutted the same way, holding themselves proudly and confidently.

I felt myself smile a little. I bet girls all over would give anything to be able to hang out with two of the most attractive guys in Hollywood while they were shirtless. And here I was, living their dream.

                                                           ~~~~~~~~~

"Let's go for a road trip," Zac suggested later on that evening.

"When?" I asked, taking a bite of the amazing garlic breadsticks the hotel diner served.

"Tomorrow. We get a day off from shooting," he replied.

"I have an interview to go to," Duke said, looking at me. I flipped through the calendar on my phone.

"Indeed, he does," I said, holding up my phone.

"We'll afterwards," Zac said. I glanced at Duke.

"You guys can go. I've already seen Italy a bunch of times," he said, shrugging.

I frowned. I didn't have a problem hanging out with Zac, but it was just the fact that we'd be hanging out alone that I didn't like. If paparazzi found out, we'd make the front cover of the next People magazine. And that was not the kind of publicity I wanted. Besides, I wasn't interested in Zac. There was a particularly handsome lawyer I had my sights set on back home.

"We should get going. You said you'd stop by that woman's shop at 6," I said to Duke. He downed his glass of wine and nodded.

"Later, man," he said to Zac. We got out of the diner and walked outside the hotel. Right when we stepped outside, flashes and screams surrounded us.

"What the hell?!" I cried, raising my arm to shield my face.

"I thought you told the manager to make sure no one knew I was staying here!" Duke hissed next to me. I grabbed onto his arm, pulling him forward, rejecting requests from reporters to ask questions.

"He's busy right now! Sorry! He can't answer any questions!" I called out, pulling open the door of the car we were taking. Once we were safely inside, hiding behind the heavily tinted glass and sturdy doors, we sighed in relief.

"I have no idea how that happened," I said, pulling my phone out. I told the driver where to go and to take some inside streets so that we could lose the hoard of people following us.

"You said that the manager of the hotel swore he wouldn't tell anyone--" Duke began saying. I held my hand up.

"I did tell him. Someone on the inside either slipped up or the paparazzi followed us," I said.

"This sucks. Do you know how impossible it's going to be for me to get in and out of that place now?" he asked.

"I know. I'll handle it when we get back. Worse comes to worse, we'll have to switch hotels," I told him.

"This is ridiculous. Why can't they ever leave me alone?" he said, staring out the window, his eyes narrowed in frustration and anger.

"I'll take care of it. Calm down," I assured him.

"I am calm," he said bluntly. I shook my head at him.

He groaned when we got to the shop.

"Looks like she invited the paparazzi, too," I mumbled.

"This is so stupid. I'm not going in there," he said.

"You have to. She probably told them that you were coming. It'd look rude on your part if you didn't show up. Just go in there, buy something, and then we'll leave," I said. He gave me a look.

"This was all your stupid idea," he said, glaring at me.

"You agreed to go. You can't back out now," I said to him. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

Then we opened the doors to the car and stepped outside. After battling through the mass of people outside of the shop, we finally made it inside, where it was pleasantly quiet. The woman who I had gotten the shirt from walked up to us, smiling.

"Alo, so nice to meet you," she said in her thick Italian accent, kissing Duke on both cheeks. He smiled at her accordingly.

"Thank you so much for letting me use that shirt that day. It really saved my life," Duke said to her.

"Oh, it was no problem at all. I have many celebrity clients," she told him.

I forced myself not to roll my eyes as she continued to gush about her shop and clothing to Duke, who seemed less than mildly interested. She showed him several items of clothing and shoes. I sat around with my phone, waiting impatiently for him to hurry and pick something so we could get out of there. I could still here the chatter of people standing outside.

I stood outside of the fitting room as Duke tried on some things, much to the insistance of the shopkeeper.

"Would you hurry up?" I hissed.

"It's your fault! She won't leave me alone! She wants me to buy the whole store!" he hissed back. He stepped out in an orange polo shirt. I scrunched my nose up.

"Ew, that looks disgusting on you," I said to him.

"I hate bright colors," he told me.

"I can see why," I agreed, nodding at the shirt. He took several more minutes in the dressing room. "Duke! Hurry up!" I cried.

"I'm going to go as slow as possible. This is your torture for getting me into this," he replied. I let out a frustrated sigh and stomped my foot. He was so annoying.

He walked out with a black leather jacket over his normal white v-neck and dark jeans. I would never admit it out loud, but it looked really good on him.

"What about this?" he asked me.

"You look beautiful. Let's go now," I said, turning my gaze to my phone. He put his finger on it and lowered it, making me look at him.

"I think I should try on another one if you don't like this," he said.

"Since when do you care what I think?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't. But I can tell how much you're loving this," he replied with a sly smirk on his face.

"You know, if there was an award for Biggest Ass in the World, you would totally win it," I said to him. He blinked at me and then turned around and looked at his butt in the mirror, which made me burst into laughter. I had just realized what I had said.

"I don't think my ass is that big," he said, a smile on his own lips.

"You're such an idiot. Just buy the jacket," I said to him. He wiggled his eyebrows at me and then took the jacket off, his muscles flexing slightly from the movement.

"You buy it for me. I don't have my wallet on me," he said.

"Duke! This thing is almost 1000 dollars!" I cried.

"So?" he shrugged. I threw it at him and he caught it with quick reflexes.

"I have another idea," I said, tossing my phone in my bag. "How about I just leave you here and you can play dress up all you want. I have things to do," I said, shouldering my purse. He rolled his eyes at my ultimatum and then walked past me with his jacket, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. I shook my head at him. I knew he was lying. 

"You need to learn how to take a joke," he said to me once we had gotten back into the car. He had decided to wear the jacket out of the store, showing it off to the paparazzi, making them go even more wild than they already were. This just annoyed me even more.

"I know how to take a joke," I argued.

"No, because if you did, you wouldn't be so angry all the time," he pointed out.

"I am not angry all the time!" I exclaimed. He raised his eyebrows at me, a knowing smile on his lips.

"I wonder how bad my blood pressure has gotten since working with you," I said aloud. "It seems like you can't go one minutes without stressing me out," I said. He chuckled.

"You're just too much fun, that's why," he said to me.

"Yeah? Well what if I stop responding?" I asked.

"You won't," he answered, leaning back against the seat.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Because you're the kind of person that always has to have the last word. No matter what," he replied.

"Is that so?" I asked. He nodded. "That's so not true," I defended, slouching in the seat and crossing my arms over my chest.

"Is, too," he argued.

"Is not," I argued back.

"Is."

"Isn't."

"Is."

"ISN'T!" I shouted. He raised his eyebrows, smirking, his eyes flashing.

"See? Point proven," he said casually.

"You're dumb," I muttered.

"And when you lose, you always shoot back with some lame insult," he said.

"Your face is lame," I said, a slight smile on my lips. We both rolled our heads on the back of the seat and faced each other.

"You're so predictable," he told me.

"You think?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, accepting the challenge he inadvertantly just posed.

His blue eyes were absolutely gorgeous from up close. They flashed mischieviously as he nodded. I moved my face closer to his so that we were only inches apart. I saw his expression shift slightly. His gaze quickly shifted from my eyes to my lips and then back up to my eyes. I leaned in even closer, so that our lips were mere centimeters away from one another. As I saw panic and shock flit over his face, I smirked and then pulled back.

"Still predictable?" I asked him. His face was still frozen where it was before. Then he blinked and looked at me.

"You--" he started, confusion still etched on his face.

"Win," I finished for him, leaning against the soft suede of the car seat.

______________________________________________________________________________

A/N: You guys think there's a little flirtation going on between Valerie and Duke? What about between Zac and Valerie?

This may just end up being a love SQUARE.

Comment and vote!!!!

XOXO