- 1 -

Some days, I wished I could just walk into a Walmart and purchase a pack of mini powdered donuts without hearing my own name.

I think I even preferred the blood-curdling screams of the girls outside of my hotel lobby or swarm of bodies that would lose a tooth just to get a candid picture of me at the airport. My bodyguard did a pretty good job of fending them off, but the few strays never ceased to catch me off guard.

But hearing my name in a hushed whisper while perusing the Little Debbies, only to look over to find some kid and their mom staring at me with saucers for eyes, when I was just trying to get tour munchies? I hated it. For once in my God forsaken life, I'd like to just blend in. Of all of the places in America, I would think I'd be able to have some sort of anonymity at a Walmart at two in the morning.

I waved curtly, forcing a tight lipped smile despite my exhaustion. The girl, maybe eleven or so, waved back eagerly. She timidly approached me, her mom lingering back with her phone already in the air.

"Hi," she said, her voice wavering with emotion. "Can I get a picture?"

Of course, I'd never deny a picture or a hug. The stories of other celebrities snubbing their life-devoted fans over a picture, especially minors, made me sick. I nodded and stuffed the donuts back on the shelf, holding my arms out for her. This part I didn't mind as much. The kid was sweet and clearly wasn't a money seeking tabloid writer.

It's just . . . sometimes a guy wants to buy fucking donuts in peace.

I buttered them up, giving the impression that I certainly wasn't burdened by their interruption, just so that the mom could make some bullshit Facebook post about how I was so real and so genuine and just like us.

Before I'd even gotten the second pair of automatic doors to slide open for me, I had a cigarette resting in my lips.

The American leg of my tour started tomorrow. I had thought of everything I'd like to have on the bus, but I just couldn't sleep until I came out and got these donuts. If I was being honest with myself, that was probably a mix of the jitters and the Adderall, but I was rarely honest with myself.

My phone rang in my pocket. There was only two people who would dare call me this late: Joey, my manager, and Dustin, my best friend.

It was Dustin, thank God.

"Yellow," I greeted monotonously, sliding into my car while trying to ignore a homeless man staring at me like I was Ghandi.

"Dude," Dustin breathed into the phone. "Dude."

I locked my doors, a bit suspicious of the scraggly man that was inching slowly over to my Beamer with crazy eyes. Deciding I didn't want to find out what his intentions were, I pulled out of the parking lot, still ignoring Dustin on the other end.

"Dude."

"Yes, Dusty?" I said sweetly.

"Did you know that the drummer from Freefall is coming to your show in Memphis?" he asked and I knew his head was probably going to explode. "Can we . . . Can you do the thing?"

'The thing' was basically just DM'ing the drummer from Freefall, an indie rock band that Dustin had idolized since before they first appeared on the charts, and asking if he wanted to come hang backstage after the show. I had done the favor for my best buddy a few times, each time being worth it just to see him blush and bask in the glory of his favorite celebrities.

I wasn't sure he'd ever get used to it.

"Anything for you, sexy," I said with a grin.

Dustin had come on tour with me every year. I had only been doing music for four years now, having not been my original spotlight. I was acting since I was six and then I posted a stupid cover of me singing a basic ass song when I was nineteen and the world went crazy.

So then Joey, my aforementioned manager, had dollar signs for eyes and hooked me up with some songwriters just to see if this was a possibility. Present day, I had made a killing off of music I didn't even like, performing on stages I didn't want to step foot on, acting like I was born to sing after all.

Dustin squealed like a little girl, similar to the one I had taken a picture with in the Walmart. "Have I ever told you that you can have my body?" he said and I laughed out loud.

"Yes. I've just been waiting for the timing to be right," I joked. "I'm hanging up now, loser. Be ready at 6." He scoffed as if he was appalled at the notion of him oversleeping the morning tour started.

Dustin was, without a doubt, my number one fan. I had met him when we were eight, before any of my acting jobs took off. We hit it off immediately, just two little nerds with similar interests. He didn't bat an eye when my newfound career made me leave public school, still being my gaming partner every weekend. And when Road to Serendipity blew up and my face was suddenly on one of the movie posters outside of the theater and everyone at school was talking about me, Dustin just smiled and said, 'I knew it would happen.'

He was my ride or die, the only real friend I had.

In the morning, he was on my doorstep at 6 o'clock sharp, before I'd even had a chance to crack open an energy drink. I let him in, snorting at the way he was bouncing on his heels in the foyer, a giant smile on his face.

Dustin certainly enjoyed touring more than I did. I fucking hated it. Too much driving, too much flying, too much stopping. But if he could, Dustin would have his nose to the glass the entire trip, just taking in the acres and acres of the neverending list of places.

He was wearing his lucky, half bedazzled Theo – By the Way Tour shirt from my first ever concert. I couldn't help but smile at the sight of it. Good thing some things never changed.

I ran around, collecting all of the last minute things I forgot to pack, while Dustin waited patiently. The bus was outside in my driveway. My assistant, Travis, had already moved most of my bags and loaded all of my snacks, so all I had to do was bring the last loose items. I asked Dustin and he was ready, to which he just rolled his eyes and walked out the door.

We climbed aboard and I took a deep breath. So it began.

The greatest tour bus driver of all time was already seated at the front, a steaming cup of coffee in the cupholder next to him. I clapped a hand on his shoulder and he smiled at me, but I knew he wasn't ready for this. None of us ever were.

"You have about ten minutes. Is there anything you need?" Travis asked chirpily. He was maybe thirty, or so, and really nice. Travis took all of my bullshit mood swings and somewhat kept me grounded, in a sense. I shook my head and dropped the pile of random shit onto the pull out table. "Call if you need anything, Mr. Thorne."

Dustin plopped down onto the sofa. They let me pick out the furniture for the bus, thank God. I picked out the coziest sofa, the softest mattresses, and the biggest TVs. Dustin helped, since he spent as much time on here as I did. We didn't care so much for how it looked, but since we were on here almost as much as our own homes, we made it for us.

"Washington state, here we come," he said happily, laying his head back.

"Wanna game?" I asked, turning the console on regardless of his response.

We normally never tired of video games on the bus. Dustin eventually got sick from the motion of the ride and had to take breaks, but ninety-nine percent of my time on the bus was spent shitting on kids around the world who had no idea it was international superstar Theo Thorne breaking their win streaks.

While waiting for Dustin to make a cup of coffee, I scrolled mindlessly on my phone. Social media was half of my job. I posted regularly, interacted with fans, and pretty much just kept up with the idea that I was the golden boy of our generation.

I still wasn't sure when it happened. Of course, my name was made when Road to Serendipity came out and everyone and their cousin watched it. I was only twelve, but became a household name in no time. My old manager, name redacted, pulled auditions out of his ass for every Disney show that needed a charming new face until I landed a supporting role for some dumb ass show about middle school. After that, the roles just kept on role-ing.

When I got the lead in the remake of the classic horror film Rarities when I was seventeen, I was in. Hollywood was my kingdom. Then music came along with the occasional acting role and I never saw a day off again.

It was strange. Being thrown into acting so young, I never saw what a normal life was like. I was just a cog in the machine at eight-years-old. I had a full-time job with homeschooling coming second.

Now, at twenty-four, I had the most freedom I'd ever had. That began when we fired my old manager and found me Joey, who was thankfully the polar opposite of him. He cared more about what I wanted to do, rather than what I should do. He knew I hated the music I sang, but he wouldn't make me do it if I didn't want to.

Wanting anything in this business didn't matter, though. No, I didn't want to sing sappy songs about having my heart broken, but it would keep my name out there. It would keep the money flowing. It would keep me busy.

"Alright, brother," Dustin said, taking the second controller in his hands. "Let's do this."

—

Fuck interviews.

I hated them with every fiber of my being. It was always either plastic women lacking any substance or fake ass dudes who saw me as a kid, asking questions that no one actually gave a shit about. I hated having to fake a smile and answer questions about if I'm dating anybody or if the girl I was accidentally sitting next to at the movie premier was my new girlfriend or if the song I just released was about someone in particular.

One time I told them my biggest hit was about Dustin. He cried.

The answer was always the same. I had never had a public girlfriend. The song was to be interpreted by the listeners. No, I had no idea who the girl was, but she shared her popcorn with me.

"So, Theo, we loved Rarities," the interviewer said. I looked at her with a fake smile. Her lipstick was in her teeth. "Do you have any interest in doing more horror films?"

I shrugged one shoulder, glancing at the camera. "Well, Rarities was seven years ago," I laughed, fumbling with the strings on my hoodie. "I'm not sure I have the scared face down anymore."

The woman cackled, throwing her head back dramatically. I quirked an eyebrow. It wasn't that funny, lady.

"Who could forget the famous Theo scared face?" she exclaimed, pinching the notecards in her hands tightly. "I guess you had that down pat when you were pretty young, right? In Road to Serendipity!"

I gave her a curt smile. "Sure did."

"Now, tell me," she said, dropping her voice down a decibel like we were about to share some juicy goss. I knew what was coming. "You and co-star Noah Russo were pretty close when you were kids. Do you still keep in touch?"

A sigh threatened to come out. I hated when they asked about Noah. If a celebrity goes off the grid in the middle of their peak, it normally means they don't want you talking about them anymore. Noah hadn't done interviews or any gigs, for that matter, in nearly ten years. His flame had gone out and he didn't need nosy journalists trying to reignite the fire.

"I haven't spoken with Noah in years, but I hope he is doing well," I said, giving her a charming smile that surely would divert the topic. The producer off screen signaled to the lipstick lady to change the subject, per instructions from Joey.

She asked about the tour, my album, and of course, my love life. I dodged the question, as she knew I would do. When we finished, I dropped the act and walked off set. Joey was standing by, talking with one of the channel executives. I grabbed a handful of chips off of the snack table and headed towards the dressing room to get my stuff.

"Why do they always ask you about Noah?" Dustin asked from one of the leather couches.

I shrugged, grabbing my phone off the charger and checking if I had any missed calls. "They want me to tell them he's off the deep end again or something," I mumbled. "Which I don't know if he is, but I wouldn't tell them if I did."

He hummed. "When was the last time you even saw him?"

Blowing air past my lips, I looked at the floor in thought. I couldn't even remember, honestly. It was probably when I was drunk. I did remember seeing him at a club a few years back, but we didn't speak. He was a bit preoccupied by some chick rubbing her ass all over him, so we didn't have much time for catching up.

I felt like I'd seen him since then, though. Maybe at a party? I had no clue anymore.

"Long time," was all I said.

Joey came into the dressing room with his phone to his ear, closing up a phone call with someone. I responded to some tweets from fans, liking and retweeting some while I waited for whatever he had to say to me.

He clapped his hands together. "I had a thought."

"Did it hurt?" I smiled, making him make a face.

"Ha. No, thank you. What if, and hear me out, superstar," Joey grinned, "you rekindle your friendship with Russo?"

I cringed. "Good luck with that."

He pursed his lips, pulling out his phone and tapping away. It was stupid to think I could just text Noah after all this time and ask if he wants to be besties. We went in different directions after the movie and, if anything, associating with him now might give me a bad rep.

"I just emailed Harriet about scheduling a meeting with his manager when we're in LA, I'll see what we can do to get you together," he said, making me grimace. When seeing my expression, Joey tried his best to make this seem like a good idea. "Think about it, Theodore. The fans will eat this shit up like I eat cranberry sauce straight from the can. You post a picture or two, maybe a video, and suddenly America's favorite boys are back."

Dustin nudged me with his elbow, making me drop the last chip on my shirt. "I see fans posting old pictures of you guys all the time, begging for a RTS reunion."

It didn't matter what I said, this was going to happen either way. I just had to hope and pray that Noah wouldn't be up for it.