It's another sleepless night until entirely too late, and I'm already completely over this week when my morning alarm rings. Kyle spent the night up late too after leaving my place apparently, because I wake to a message sent just after I finally fell asleep.

(ALT TEXT: Film studio by the food trucks 8:30-10:30 RIGO BRO studio B!!!!!)

Bro? Since when did we start calling each other "bro?"

I sigh and start my morning routine the same way as always: slow and lazy until I realize how much time has passed and rush through the rest of it. I send a quick text to Alex about my plan for the morning as I step out and head for the studio. I was lucky to find a place I could afford near all the excitement in LA, so I'm close enough that I don't need to waste money on an Uber.

I spend the short walk checking for updates on the Rigo and Chris Ellington situation, which doesn't yield much. Both have maintained their ongoing social media absences, and there's been complete silence from reps for both of them. Regardless, articles are still churning out by the hour, speculating at the nature of their relationship and how they ended up together without any solid evidence or conclusions. It's just exciting, as Kyle had said, and the media still hasn't decided where they stand on it all. We've got a window to take control of the narrative, as long as we work fast and actually get to Chris and Rigo in time.

My sudden arrival at the studio stops me in my tracks. There's security everywhere, although they don't appear particularly attentive. That fact is completely irrelevant to my rapidly mounting anxiety, because I can count the number of times I've gotten into serious trouble on one hand, and it was never the adult kind of serious. Trespassing is pretty serious stuff, and if I don't do this right, I'll be adding that to my resume today. No pressure or anything.

A small group of people approaches the gate and I see my opportunity to sneak in alongside them. It's beyond terrifying, but I literally have no choice. I have less than a week now to get this story, and I can't miss this fleeting chance to pitch our plan to Rigo. I jump in after the last person, doing my best to appear casual by pulling out my phone and tapping through it. I figure I can make it a little more legitimate by actually sending a message, and Kyle is the inevitable victim since this is his mission I'm on right now.

(ALT TEXT: Lola: I'm going in. Pray 4 me *woozy faze emoji* Kyle: Oprah be with you *heart emoji* Lola: WHAT THE HELL IS OPRAH GONNA DO FOR ME??!!! Kyle: DON'T QUESTION MY METHODS GIRL JUST FEEL THE BLESSINGS)

The small exchange is enough for me to giggle off the nerves and make it through the gate without issue. I resist the urge to check behind me to ensure I passed through unnoticed; that would definitely arouse suspicion. Now is the fun part: finding studio B without making it glaringly obvious that I don't belong here. I shoot Kyle another quick text to ask if he has any idea where exactly studio B is, then I keep on walking.

"You lost?"

I freeze in my tracks as my body goes cold. This... is way too soon! Am I really that bad at blending in? I've barely been here two minutes! I haven't even seen Rigo yet, let alone spoken to him!

I turn around slowly to face someone who appears to be close to my age, maybe a little younger, wearing loose-fitting ripped black skinny jeans, a band t-shirt that looks older than both of us, and a leather coat. Messy curls adorn the top of their head with the sides and back looking like an overgrown buzz cut. They're holding two coffees in paper cups, one in each hand. The grin that starts to appear on their face tells me they're not with security, nor do they plan to tell security about me. At least not yet. Maybe I can play it off.

"Uh, yeah, a little," I say with a nervous laugh and innocent smile. "I've never been here before but I need to meet someone in studio B. Do you know where that is?"

"Of course, I can show you," they respond easily, shuffling one coffee to their arm and chest and holding out their hand. "My name's Jasmine."

I take their warm hand with a feeling of relief. "Lola," I say in response.

They start walking toward the back of the lot and I stick close to them so it seems to any onlookers that we're already friends, and not that I'm a lost puppy following someone home. I can't help glancing around a bit nervously, but I don't see anyone anymore, not even security.

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" they ask.

I meet their eyes and can feel that I look like a deer in headlights. Their eyes are skeptical, but there's still a smile tugging at their lips. That's a good sign, at least.

"No, no. It's nothing like that, I just... uh..."

"Excuse me, where are your badges?" booms a voice from behind me.

I quickly turn on my heel, trying not to seem nervous but already feeling that I've failed miserably. The guard is massive compared to my small frame, towering above me like we're an adult and a child. I feel my body start to tremble as my resolve instantaneously crumbles.

I pat around my pockets and bag nervously. "I, uh... can't... find..."

"Here's mine," Jasmine says, holding theirs out. Or Jazmin Reyes that is, according to the badge. She/her, and the most beautiful smile... "My girlfriend lost hers somewhere this morning, she gets a little overwhelmed with new places," she explains casually with a laugh.

"What are you two here for?" he demands loudly, unmoved by her excuse.

"My brother. He's in studio B today. We just went out to grab coffees and that's when she lost it," she answers, equally unmoved by his attempt at intimidation.

Her brother is Rigo?!

"Joaquín Reyes is your brother?" the security officer questions.

"Yessir, for nearly 22 years," she tells him proudly.

Oh... not Rigo.

"Stick to studio B until it's time to go. You can't be walking around the lot without a badge," he says gentler now, but still eyeing me skeptically.

"Here," Jazmin says, handing me one of the coffees in her hand, "let's head back, babe."

She smiles warmly and my heart just about jumps clean out of my chest. I simply nod, unable to move my lips to speak. She takes my hand in hers and we continue walking toward studio B. My heart pounds in my ears with each step as I trail just slightly behind her, though she never loosens her grip on my hand.

"So who are you here to meet?" Jazmin asks.

"Uh, a friend," I respond awkwardly, not even believing myself.

She chuckles, not looking back at me. "Does this friend know you're here?"

"Not exactly," I admit sheepishly, raising the cup to my lips without thinking. After a sip of the sweet vanilla coffee, I remember it isn't mine. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"

She stops and whips around quickly, appearing momentarily worried. "What happened?"

I hold the cup out in front of me. "I took a sip."

She stares at my hand for a moment before bursting with laughter. "It's just a coffee, I can buy another," she assures me. "Do you like it?"

I smile at her, feeling that warmth inside me that I know needs to be tamped down. "It's good," I tell her, nodding.

"Good. Now let's find your friend," she says, pulling open the door in front of us.

I didn't even realize when we stopped that we had already reached our intended building. I follow in close behind her, glancing at every door as we pass in hopes that one might have Rigo's name on it. We stop suddenly and Jazmin pushes a door open, peeking inside and shouting something I don't understand in Spanish. After a second, she walks in and waves me in with her.

"My brother's still on set I guess," she says as I close the door behind me. "I'm going to go give him his coffee. If you want to wait here, we can look around together."

She smiles at me as she waits for an answer. Her brown eyes seem to sparkle every time she grins. God, what I would give to keep seeing her smile...

"Sounds good," I spit out quickly, not wanting to stare at her too long.

She nods with satisfaction and quickly glides out of the room, gently closing the door behind her. Finally alone, I take a moment to get my bearings and look around the room. There's a large leather sofa against the far wall, a long table covered with snacks and small gifts from the studio to Joaquín, and a massive vanity spread with sample size cosmetics and toiletries adorned with small bows from all sorts of expensive brands. On the floor beside the sofa are a few bags that look like they may belong to Joaquín and Jazmin.

In no time at all, the door clicks open again and I turn quickly to look. It seems a little soon for Jazmin to be back already, and unfortunately, I'm right about that. In steps a tall Hispanic man with a gray goatee and a lanyard featuring his badge hanging around his neck. My heart starts racing again.

"What are you doing in here?" he barks, none too pleased with my presence.

My legs lurch forward in a sudden panic and I lunge through the doorway, ducking under his arms to ensure he can't stop me. My heart is pounding in my ears so loudly that I can barely hear him as he yells for security to stop me. All I know is that the door out is directly in front of me, and I zero in on it as I sprint harder. I'm so close I can practically taste the fresh air when someone rounds the corner of the single hallway near the door and I slam into them, crushing my coffee between our bodies and throwing us both against the wall.

I stumble backward and look up at the person I just assaulted, hoping desperately that it's Jazmin. I'm sure she could forgive me, but it's not her. The man standing before me is a bit taller than her, with a freshly buzzed fade dyed platinum blonde on top. He sports similar facial hair to the man who caught me in the dressing room, though his is very dark brown. He's holding a crushed coffee cup just like mine, and I begin to panic again as I realize who he is.

"I am so, so sorry," I stammer quickly.

Joaquín doesn't speak, he just watches me with an unreadable intensity in his eyes as he stands still in the spot where I'd pushed him. Down the same hallway he came from, Jazmin emerges from a room with her attention glued to her phone. She glances up as she starts walking toward us, and her face suddenly drops in shock.

"Lola?" she calls out as she starts running.

A hand drops hard on my shoulder and spins me around, and I find myself facing the same security guard from outside just moments ago. He's grinning pompously now, and I can already feel how badly I've fucked this up. Just behind him stands the man who found me in Joaquín's dressing room with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring down at me.

"Let her go!" Jazmin yells, momentarily distracting the security guard as he looks down the hallway at her.

I see an opportunity to run, and I take it. I duck out of his grip while his attention is elsewhere and bolt out the door on my left. I keep on sprinting once I'm outside, heading right for the front gate. There's probably a closer gate I could get out of, but I don't know my way around this place and I can't risk getting caught now that security is well aware that I don't belong. The lot is still clear for the most part, with only a few people stopping to watch me sprint past.

Terrified of being caught, I don't stop running until I'm out on the sidewalk and on a completely different street. When I finally stop, my thighs are on fire from running so hard for the first time in who-even-knows-how-many years. I shuffle to the side as I work to catch my breath and figure out what to do next. I pull out my phone and see that it's only just after nine. It's too early to head into the office empty-handed, I have to do something else.

I start walking slowly as I wrack my brain for things I can do to get to Chris or Rigo. Well, let's be real, getting to Rigo is off the table for today. Chris, on the other hand, is still a possibility. Unsent Souls just put out a record a year ago and have been touring like crazy, so I know they're all at home in LA right now. Maybe I can find them at their record label.

It's not a long walk to the label from where I am, and I can see mobs of people all around the Concinnity Records building before I even get to it. It's total chaos in every direction; there are fans and paparazzi alike, screaming into the doors every time they open and wildly snapping pictures in hopes that one of them will come out with Chris Ellington in it. It does my mood some good to see multiple fans holding up pride flags and homemade signs with messages of support for him.

I stand behind the crowd for a minute to decide where I want to push in. It's unlikely Chris will be anywhere near the front door, but he's got to get in and out of the building somehow, right? I decisively head to the back of the building where the parking garage is.

Just as I expected, the mob extends back there too. I duck and weave my way through the crowd to the front, where barricades have been put up to keep everyone out and security guards stand watch. I quickly size them up to decide if I can outrun them.

Then as if the universe is aligning just perfectly for me for a change, the doors push open and a bodyguard walks out, followed by the world's greatest band to ever exist. Lead guitarist Rhett is in the front, followed by his best friend and the target of all my efforts, Chris Ellington. Behind him is bassist Andy, and finally drummer Ryan with another bodyguard. Honestly, I have no clue what to do and I'm no good at quick thinking.

The brilliant plan my brain devises is to take out my metal water bottle and chuck it full force at one of the bodyguards to distract them. What exactly does that accomplish? Don't ask me, I'm flying on pure instinct right now and my instincts aren't great. I'll figure out what to do after.

Instead of hitting a bodyguard as intended, the bottle careens straight for Chris's head. I watch in stunned horror, but at just the right moment, he raises his arm to scratch the spot just above his ear. The bottle bounces off his forearm and crashes to the ground, the sound being completely drowned out by the chaos and yelling from the crowd around me. He looks up to see where it came from and his piercing blue eyes lock on mine, leaving me frozen and unable to breathe.

Instantly, the cameras are on me and I feel myself lifted over the barricade. My feet don't touch the ground again until the security guard carrying me away like a misbehaved child drops me into a chair in a small security office. There's not much in here besides a table with chairs and a single computer on a desk in the corner. I can't imagine this is anything more than a holding room for people like me.

After we sit in there quietly for a few minutes, we're joined in the office by a slim man in a gray business suit with a clean-shaven face and gray hair atop his head. He sighs as his eyes rest on me, and I swallow back my anxiety in an effort to muster up some courage.

"I'm really sorry about that," I say with my best innocent smile and charm pulled from who-knows-where. "I pulled it out of my bag too fast and it slipped out of my hand. Can I just apologize to Chris?"

"It slipped out of your hand?" he repeats incredulously. The security guard sitting by the computer laughs quietly.

I shrink down a little as my nerves bubble up. "Yes, I swear it was an accident," I insist desperately.

He laughs to himself as he pulls a phone out of his pocket. "Well, we can see if the LAPD buys your story, because I certainly don't."

"The police?" I squeak out in disbelief. "No, I mean it. I'm sorry. Please don't call the police," I beg him.

It's not just about the fact that I'll be getting in trouble anymore, it's also about the repercussions if Alex finds out. They can't find out. Somehow, I have to make sure they don't. If I can talk my way out of this, they definitely won't find out...

"If I could just talk to Chris—"

"Save it," he interrupts me, holding his hand up at me as he lifts the phone to his ear. "Yes, it's George Ramos from Concinnity again. We've got another one for you."

So much for that. Can this day get any worse?