Driving down an unknown boulevard in the passenger seat of Miles Fox's Thunderbird was not how Jensen expected her first day in Hollywood to go.

And if she told Liberty, she was certain she would never hear the end of it. Which is why, the moment she got in the car, she decided Liberty would never know about the ride in the Thunderbird. For Jensen's sake.

Miles was an annoyingly good driver. One hand on the top of the steering wheel, and one dangling over the edge of his door. Miles Fox unwittingly looked as if he was at a cover shoot almost a hundred percent of the time, Jensen decided.

The first couple of minutes were silent—not awkward, but silent all the same. Jensen stared at the scenery around her. Lots of buildings painted in vibrant colours. The sky was so blue it could've been in a Pixar movie. Frankly, everything about the streets of Hollywood were like they were plunked down straight from the sets of her favourite films. Jensen was in the heart of her favourite cinematic masterpieces.

"So, what got you into a fight with Hugh?" Miles raised his voice so Jensen could hear him over the wind flying past their ears.

"Is that the reason you picked me up?" Jensen asked as her curls hit her cheeks. She did her best to play it off like she hadn't jumped at the broken silence. "To ask that?"

"I picked you up because you looked lost, Rhodes," Miles said. His brown hair flopped in the wind. "I'm curious."

"How much of it did you hear?"

"How do you know I heard anything?"

Miles looked at Jensen, which made her heart skip a beat. Not because she was flattered. Because she wanted him to keep his eyes on the road or Miles was going to end up even more like James Dean. And Jensen didn't want to be a part of that.

"You might be a good actor," Jensen said, "but you're not good at pretending you're not laughing. At least away from the camera."

"You told him to fuck off really politely," Miles said. "That's all I heard. I didn't hear why, but I could probably guess he was being a dick."

"Hugh wasn't putting on a show for me?" Jensen asked. "I don't feel special anymore."

Miles laughed. "Do you have University Greeks in Canada?"

"Yes."

"Well, Hugh Gardener is that fraternity where every douchebag in it fucks anyone they can get their hands on and they throws trashy parties that get shut down by campus police," Miles said. "The kind of fraternity that somehow still runs even when the brothers have a collective IQ of 69." Miles frowned—his lips pursed slightly. "Don't think too much into that last part, I just needed a low number."

"You've described most of the fraternities I went to school with," Jensen said. "What are you comparing Hugh's Greeks to, exactly?"

"Me, of course," Miles said. Jensen laughed, and he smiled. "I'm the cool fraternity who gives pretty girls rides home."

Jensen was sure she imagined him look at her.

No, she was certain she imagined it.

Miles continued, "And I shit talk other frats. My fraternity has a half decent overall IQ. Gets along with the sororities and not because they want to get in their pants."

"Sounds like a half decent fraternity," Jensen said.

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Did you want it to be?"

"If it wasn't, that's the nicest thing you've said to me since we've known each other, Rhodes."

"What, the whole two and a half hours?" Jensen asked, raising an eyebrow.

Miles laughed. "I'll take it as a win. You didn't put me in the same fraternity as Hugh."

"You put yourself in the fraternities."

"Don't take away my win."

Jensen held her hands up in surrender and laughed. "All yours."

"Do you know which Best Western you're staying at?"

"I didn't know there was more than one until five minutes ago."

"It's a franchise." Miles laughed. Because he was terrible at pretending he wasn't.

"You know what I meant."

"Do I?" Miles asked. "We hardly know each other."

Jensen was bad at pretending she wasn't laughing, too. "No, I don't know which one."

"Can you pass me the hat in the glove box, please?"

Jensen opened the box, despite her asking, "Why?"

Miles placed it on his head after she handed it to him. "Paps. They're everywhere."

"You're driving the most noticeable car in the history of ever," Jensen said, "but you're worried about people knowing it's you?"

"I didn't ask to be noticed," Miles said. It was the first time since Jensen had got in the Thunderbird that his smile had faltered. He slapped it back on quickly, but Jensen still felt her stomach turn. "And what's the point in having a gorgeous car like Zuko if I can't drive it when I want to?"

Jensen swallowed hard and forced a smile herself—Hollywood seemed to do that to people. "You named your car Zuko?"

"Because it's a T-Bird," Miles said. Jensen didn't know much about his smile, but it looked slightly more genuine than it had been a moment before. "Don't tell me you haven't seen Grease, Rhodes."

"I've seen Grease," Jensen said. "Fox."

Jensen saw a Best Western down the street that they didn't stop for. "Miles—"

"Yes, that was a Best Western. No, I didn't stop for it. We need to get you a place with free Wi-Fi and you can see where you're staying."

"Free Wi-Fi like a hotel lobby?"

"Or a café. Where there's also coffee. Coffee for me, Wi-Fi for you. But touché."

"I could go for a nap," Jensen said. "At a Best Western. Any Best Western. That I can walk to, despite the fact that I appreciate a ride in your car."

Miles held a finger up. "Ah, ah, ah. It has a name."

Jensen scoffed out a laugh. "I appreciate the ride in Zuko."

Miles looked over his shoulder and pulled over, putting Zuko into park. His wrist leaned on the steering wheel, hand dangling lazily over the edge. "Do you know where you are?"

Jensen looked around. "Should I?"

Miles jutted a thumb over his shoulder. "A couple streets over is the Sunset Strip. It's a tourist trap, I wouldn't go there if you don't want pictures taken of you."

"What if I put on a genius disguise like yours?" Jensen nodded to his hat and sunglasses.

"Nobody knew it was Superman under those glasses, Rhodes. Don't diss the disguise," Miles said. He still looked amused. "I'll drop you off if you want. I really don't mind."

Jensen shook her head, her curls hitting her cheeks. "I'll figure it out."

"All right." Miles had given up trying to sound like he was convinced. However slight it was, the disappointment in his voice made Jensen's chest pang with guilt.

Miles unbuckled his seatbelt, threw open the door when there weren't any cars coming towards him, and went to get Jensen's suitcase out of the back. Placing the suitcase on the sidewalk as Jensen got out of the car, he sighed softly.

"Thanks," Jensen said, taking the suitcase handle in her hand.

Pointing down in the direction they had come from, Miles said, "The Best Western you saw is just down there and around the corner, but it's one of the closest hotels to the Sunset Strip so it might get loud and if it's not the hotel you're supposed to be at, there could be no vacancy."

"Okay."

He turned and pointed in the other direction. Jensen looked in that direction and imagined what she could find. Would there be Hollywood sunsets that night? Lines of palm trees in her wake? When she entered the Best Western, would The Eagles be playing or was that too cliché?

"There's another one about three miles that way if you follow the road," Miles continued, "and one maybe four miles away from that one. But you'd have to go past the TCL Chinese Theatre and Walk of Fame to go to that one, so I would go for the former if there's room."

Jensen looked back to Miles. She was afraid there was too much excitement in her eyes that she couldn't hide. "Is that the Star Wars theatre?" she asked. As if she didn't know.

"That's the Star Wars theatre." Miles smiled. At least he was polite enough to play along.

"Cool."

"It's super cool. They have tours."

Jensen's jaw dropped. Way to hide it. "Do they really?"

"I wouldn't lie about Star Wars," Miles said, looking slightly offended—but slight enough for Jensen to know he was screwing around. "What kind of monster do you think I am?"

"How..." Jensen crossed her arms and looked behind her again. Towards the Best Western. Perhaps towards an adventure at the TCL Chinese Theatre after a nap. "How far away is three miles?"

Jensen felt stupid asking. But the last time she'd been to the States, she was a child. And Canada was on the metric system anyway.

Scratch that, the world was on the metric system.

American units of measurement didn't make sense to her. A yard meant nothing. She knew she was five-four and even then, inches and feet meant nothing more than that, really. A mile? Who knew? Well... hopefully Miles if he was going to be of any more help to her.

"It's..." Miles stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and let out a weak chuckle. He smiled sheepishly. "It's three miles. Um, not eighteen feet. Actual miles."

Jensen looked back to him. "What?"

"That was a joke, Rhodes," Miles said, pressing his lips together. Terrible at not laughing. He scratched the back of his neck. "Guess it doesn't land with... metric. Noted."

"How long of a walk would that be?" Jensen tried.

"Half hour," Miles said, shrugging. "Maybe forty minutes. Depends on how fast you walk."

Jensen looked in the direction Miles had been pointing again. Whether or not she was picturing the TCL Chinese Theatre like a complete geek, she would let Miles decide for himself. "I think I'll go to the three mile one." She turned back to Miles.

Miles nodded. "That's probably your best bet. Are you sure you want to walk there?"

"I'm fine with walking," Jensen said. "And I don't want to take you out of your way."

"I live in Hollywood Hills, it's on the way."

Jensen shook her head. "I'll be fine. Thank you for your help."

Miles' eyebrows were knit together, barely visible in the small gap between his sunglasses and the brim of his hat, but Jensen could see it. "Please be careful."

Jensen twisted the piercing in her nostril. Miles made her feel even worse than she already did about being there. She became extremely aware of how fast her heart was beating.

"I will."

"Just, because, you know." Miles kicked at the sidewalk before looking back up at Jensen. "We need more people in the world who tell Hugh Gardener to fuck off politely."

Jensen laughed and Miles joined in. "I'll always be here to tell Hugh Gardener to fuck off."