It's been two whole days since I lost the competition, almost kissed Ryan, was instead kissed by Brad, was approached by a talent scout, and also propositioned by Très.

I have definitely had enough drama to last me for a long time.

I'm still trying to keep up with my schoolwork, but as I sit here at my desk watching the hands of the clock on my wall tick just past 9pm, I find that I can't concentrate on anything; there is too much white noise in my head.

I lazily tugged the talent scout's business out from under my pencil case and held it between the tips of my fingers.

Nina had asked me what my plans for college were and she seemed delighted when I'd told her my first preference was NYU. But I could visibly see the shock on her face when I told her I was applying for media journalism, not theatre and performance as she had assumed.

"Ava, forgive me if I'm being too bold but I really believe you need to switch courses immediately." She told me frankly.

"Oh, but I've had this plan laid out for as long as I can remember." I had always wanted to be just like my dad...hadn't I?

"But do you really love journalism as much as the feeling of being on stage?"

"..." I couldn't give her a straight answer.

"Being a performer? As a career? The percentage of those that actually make it all the way is so low...my original plan is safer." This was a risk...but the reward was big.

"I can't refute that statement, but I also feel like you are immensely talented and I can't in good conscience, let that potential go to waste without at least trying to convince you otherwise. This is my job; to be cut-throat and scout for the best, and I think with even more training to hone in on your natural skills, you would be a real asset to NYU."

I was a little dumbfounded by how passionate she sounded about my future, and I couldn't help but feel shivers of excitement humming from deep within my bones.

"Even if I wanted to...isn't it too late to switch now though?" I asked with uncertainty. It was an opportunity that had presented itself to me out of the blue, and even I knew that this kind of thing didn't happen very often.

"You can write a letter of appeal to change your application. It happens more often than you'd think. And if you do decide to go through with it," She said as she handed me her business card, "please give me a call first. I will write you a personal recommendation and then we'll wait and see what can be done."

I just nodded blankly. I couldn't believe what I was hearing; it was a lot to process and it was sprung on me quickly and unexpectedly.

"I can't guarantee you anything at this point, but nothing in life is guaranteed. I understand I can't force you to change your mind and that you'll need time to think about things."

Well that was an understatement.

"All I can say though, is that I just can't shake this feeling I have that you were born to be on stage, not behind the scenes."

And with that, Nina Suarez had shaken my hand firmly, adjusted her glasses and departed.

Flipping the card over and over with my fingertips, I deliberated on a decision that I felt would dictate the course of the rest of my life. How could anyone expect 18 year olds to be able to know all the right choices to make or exactly what to do with their lives at all...

What would I do if everything fell through and I had to go with my next preference which was UCLA Berkeley? What was I going to do if my best friend and my boyf- ...the boy I'm in love with, got into Columbia and were all the way on the other side of the country, 2441 miles away from me?

Were we just going to end up being separated even after all of this shit we've been through? Fighting so hard just to almost be together?

I had initially hidden the card out of sight so I wouldn't be distracted by it. But I'd rather think about what Nina had to say to me, than try to guess what Rose and Ryan have been doing with Melissa...

I promised Ryan that I wouldn't interfere with whatever plan he, and evidently also Rose, were executing. He trusted me when I left him in the dark about the competition, and so I would trust him with whatever it is he was doing now.

With that being said, I never promised anything about not being incredibly confused and frustrated.

After what I've seen over these past 2 days, it seems like they are trying to get into Melissa's good books. But exactly why? I have no idea.

On Monday Ryan walked Melissa to every class, carrying her books and her handbag for her. I felt her eyes on me all day but I refused to give her the satisfaction of meeting her gaze and showing her what she was looking for; hurt, exhaustion, jealousy. Then this morning I saw them pull up to school car park in Ryan's shiny, black Porche, all eyes on the two of them as they got out; just the way Melissa liked it.

Then there was Rose, who had somehow grovelled and gotten herself back into the Bumblebee squad, also following Melissa around all day long, inflating her ego to astronomical heights.

At least I still had Kim, Luke and Alyssa to sit with me at lunch. But if they noticed anything strange about the fact that we were missing two members of our group, or that I was feeling restless, they didn't let on. In fact, their conversations were all focused on our Senior Prom this Friday.

Kim and Alyssa were going over their game plans for getting ready for the big night. But as much as they tried to engage me in their conversation too, I just felt my mind wander involuntarily back to Ryan, Melissa and the future of my Mom's career; I was entirely too distracted to share their excitement. And this was supposed be one of the most memorable times of my high school life.

By the end of today I had more than half a mind to go after Melissa and rip her hands off the bicep of the boy that belonged exclusively to me. Despite whatever façade Ryan was trying to put up, I could see the twitch of discomfort in his face as my red-headed nemesis did her best to press herself up against his side seductively. I caught Ryan's eye and he registered the scowl on my face as I clenched the strap of my shoulder bag in my hand.

I arched an eyebrow high, challenging him to stop me from coming over to them where they stood at Melissa's locker and not yank the door off its hinges. But the slight shake of his head and the firm look he gave were enough to set me back. Whatever it is he was doing, he definitely didn't want me to interfere. I pursed my lips, feeling the sharp sting of the emotional cut I'd just received. And then, to make matters worse, Melissa had turned her head and seen our wordless exchange, interpreting it as a cold snub from Ryan. A pronounced smirk dimpled her cheek as she revelled in my apparent dismissal, pouring more salt into the wound.

Bitch.

As if I wasn't salty enough already.

The stress didn't stop when I left school either. My mom was preparing to head off for the night shift when I walked through the door and I saw a bunch of grocery bags in the kitchen, as well as a bouquet of flowers.

"Mom who are those for?" I asked, trying to sound casual as familiar dread started to settle into the pit of my stomach. After the competition, I had almost convinced myself Melissa's threats were just bluffs, and besides, she 'won'. From her perspective she would have no more need to prove that she was better than me anymore...right?

"Oh, the director of the oncology ward. Tomorrow is her last day at the hospital..." She replied wistfully as she packed her bag. "She didn't want to leave, but in the end she couldn't really refuse to either..."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

'The hospital really is cutting jobs!' I panicked internally. Maybe Melissa's threats were more dangerous than I'd like to believe.

"So...any news yet about the promotion? I asked.

"No. We haven't heard anything new yet, they'll make their final decision by this Friday anyway."

"Is there like a list of criteria that they're looking for or something?" I questioned further, trying to get some kind of information that might suggest that she had a better chance than the other candidates.

"Well they need someone with a lot of experience," She began after pausing to think for a moment.

"Which you have plenty of." I stated confidently, earning a laugh from her.

"I suppose I do." She agreed. "I guess they need someone who can manage people well."

"You order me around all the time." I huffed cheekily.

"Yes, but in the end you do whatever you want regardless." She shot me stern look.

"Err, and what else are they looking for?" I quickly asked, moving away from the topic of my lack of obedience.

"Probably someone with a good track record in terms of doctor-patient communication. They'll most likely look at the hospital database for any complaints against the candidates that might have occurred in the past." She replied thoughtfully, planting a big kiss on my cheek as she passed me to get to the door.

F*ck. This was way more serious than I thought. Melissa's father had a substantial amount of influence and power at the hospital, with staff from each department or ward vying to get into his good books so that he might decide to benevolently donate a new dialysis machine or repair the old MRI scanner. I had no doubt that somehow, some way, Melissa would be able to convince someone in IT to do her bidding.

'I can MAKE those complaints suddenly real and appear in the database...' Melissa's scathing words rang out in my ears once again.

Shaking my head and bringing myself back to the present, I dropped the business card onto the very empty page of my notebook and picked up my phone instead.

I needed to talk to Rose about this; Ryan's plan aside, she needed to know about this for her Mom's sake.

Hey Rose, I know you and Ryan are up to something I'm not allowed to know about, and I'm not asking you to tell me. I just need to talk to you tomorrow; it's about our Moms.
I'm worried.
And I need to talk to my best friend.

I texted her, wondering how she would reply. But lo and behold, a minute later I found out:

Sure thing Ava ❤
You know I'm always here right?
I hate this feeling of being torn between you and Ryan. On the one hand I want to tell you everything so badly. But in these circumstances, I have to side with Ryan in his reasoning.
I promise you this though, it'll all be over very soon.
Trust him. Trust me.

P.s. Let's meet in the library tomorrow morning; I have it on good authority that Melissa is calling in 'sick' for the first half of the day (which actually means she has an appointment with 'Dr' Spray-tan!)

I laughed out loud thinking about the possibility that Melissa might waltz into school at lunch time looking as orange as her hair.

I do trust you Rosie. You know I do ❤

I texted back, a nostalgic smile tugging at my lips as I typed in her childhood nickname. She never really liked anyone calling her that other than me, her family and....Darcy.

Rose was truly the loveliest girl, I just hoped she would get over her dream of Darcy coming back for her. She deserved a Prince Charming, and if the rumours I'd heard about him being expelled from school and shipped off to boot camp were true...well I kind of hoped maybe he wouldn't come back. I don't think I could stand watching her get crushed if they did meet again and her esteem of him shattered to pieces.

Whatever the case, he wasn't the boy we grew up with anymore. We'd seen no recent pictures of him at all. We could pass him by in the street tomorrow and probably not recognise him! He didn't even have Instagram, or Facebook or-

Wait, maybe by now he'd made an account?

'No no, now is not the time to be stalking childhood friends, you have WAY too much studying to do!' I reprimanded myself.

Well, for like 5 seconds at least.

A little procrastinating on social media never hurt anyone...right?

Wrong.

Logging into Facebook, the very first thing I saw was a picture of Melissa in a glittering white dress fit for a princess. She held a tiara atop her head with one hand while she used the other to blow a kiss to the camera.

The caption read:

Melissa Proud with Ryan Haywood at Mariposa Boutique Beverly Hills
Ready to grace society with my presence. Bow down peasants! #debutante #queen #bowdown #sorrynotsorry #youwishyouwereme #mariposa #ARC #anastasiaramsaycarlisle #90210 #rodeodrive #hautecouture #blessed

I felt my blood begin to boil as I recognised the familiar boudoir-styled interior of Anastasia's boutique; a place he had previously only taken me to. It felt like she was invading a precious memory.

Evidently Ryan had been the one to take this picture. And how many other pictures had he taken of her, or allowed her to take of the both of them together, that weren't posted on Facebook?

"Do we even have that many photos of just the two of us?" I muttered under my breath as the excruciating realisation set in; we really didn't. The secret folder in my phone gallery was a compilation of candid shots of him, and various group photos where we happened to be next to each other. But then again, there were a couple of silly selfies we'd taken way back when we were 'just friends'. They brought a bittersweet smile to my lips as I flicked through them.
Back when we had no idea what we were in for.

Back when I had no idea how hard I was going to fall.

I was past denying that Melissa was getting to me; I am quickly being driven insane with jealousy even though my brain is telling me so clearly that all of this sucking up to her is somehow part of Ryan's plan.

I was going crazy talking to myself. I couldn't talk to Ryan about his plan, and I didn't want him to think I didn't trust him. I couldn't talk to my Mom about Melissa's threats because I really didn't want to give her any more stress than she already had. I felt like I couldn't talk to Kim or Alyssa or Luke about my encounter with the NYU talent scout because I was afraid that the advice they might give, would lead me to face a risk I wasn't sure I was prepared to take.

I don't want to think about any of this anymore, and I can't stand another moment of sitting idly by and doing nothing but make wild guesses about what was really going on.

I need to be distracted.

And Tres' proposition was the first thing that popped into my head.
It might not be the wisest thing I've ever done, but hey it's me, I've had my fair share of reckless behaviour.

My mind flew back to the conversation we had in my dressing room on Sunday, when he barged in with all the airs and graces of a pompous prince.

"Your secret's out. I know you and Haywood aren't really dating. It was all a pathetic plea on his part to try and make himself look better than me but it backfired." He accused haughtily, a smug look playing out on his (undeservingly) handsome features.

"You know nothing about our relationship." I bit out harshly.

"I know enough to realise that you're single and fair game." He shot back, undeterred...and strangely somehow turned on by my constant wrath.

"Come to this party with me as my date. Pretend that you're my girlfriend and then by the end of the night...well, we'll see if you want to stop 'pretending'." His hand had slid around my waist, before I gripped it hard and twisted his arm painfully until he released me.

"Not a chance in hell. F*ck off Très." I snapped back.

"Ouch, feisty as always I see." He recoiled, shaking his arm out.

"Just say I was hypothetically even stupid enough to agree to this, what would I get out of this? What could possibly be in it for me?" I asked sarcastically.

"Whatever you want." He replied suavely. "I can make anything happen. I'm Très Walters."

I struggled to form a coherent response to the amount of arrogance oozing from that statement.

"This is my number." He said as he unceremoniously grabbed my hand and closed my fingers around a small piece of paper. "Consider it, I the end I know you'll say yes to me."

In some weird, twisted trick of fate, Très was actually right; I was going to say yes.

And here's why:
There is nothing material Très could give me that would make me happy, and therefore going to this party would only benefit him. He was so confident he was giving me an offer I couldn't resist, but I was about to flip his deal upside down to ensure someone else's happiness; Ryan's.

Like they say, when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. I was going to be smart and use this opportunity to my advantage.

I dialled the number scrawled on the piece of paper I had previously scrunched up and thrown in my waste paper basket.

After 5 rings he picked up, and I rolled my eyes. I could just imagine him thinking he was so damn mysterious and nonchalant by making me wait.

"You said I can have anything right?" I got straight to the point and didn't even bother with 'hello'.

"Ava Maxwell, I knew you'd call me sooner or later." Came that familiar, obnoxiously narcissistic voice. "Gucci, Prada, Versace, Chanel. You name it and it's yours." He replied, the smirk on his face evident in his tone.

But I had neither the time nor patience to beat around the bush with him.

"I want you to leave Ryan alone. Forever." I demanded.

"What!" He exclaimed, choking on his bruised ego. "I could give you anything and you want that! Don't tell me you're actually into that loser?! What does he have that I don't?"

I pursed my lips hard and willed myself not to launch a verbal attack back at him.

He's everything you never could be or could ever hope to be. I don't want anything more from him other than to be himself. All I can think about is what I could I possibly give to him? What could I do for him?

"So the party is tomorrow night, right? Text me the address, I'll be there at 8pm. I'll pretend to be your latest 'conquest' for 2 hours and that's it. No kissing or trying to feel me up either." I laid out the terms of agreement firmly.

That's all this was; a business transaction.

"Only 2 hours?! But I already told the boys you'd end up staying the whole night – "He whined, the inner spoiled brat within revealing himself even more. He must be the biggest F*ckboy I have ever met. Me staying the night at his place? I think the f*ck not.

"I'll wear a backless dress." I negotiated dryly.

"Now we're talking," He conceded narcissistically. "So does that mean you're not going to be wearing a br–"

"So don't look at him, don't speak to him, don't you dare lay a finger on him ever again." I cut him off ruthlessly.

"Excuse me?" He asked, as if he was appalled we weren't talking about him anymore.

"Promise me this Très or I will not hesitate to publicly ditch you at the party and leave you hanging in front of all your 'boys.'" I threatened menacingly.

"Geez alright. No looking, no talking, no laying of any fingers on Haywood." He finally accepted.

"Good."

"But–"

*Click*

I hung up on him without another word.

This is purely a distraction, a business contract, a way to do something for Ryan, nothing more...

And how bad could going to a party be?

_________________________________________________________________

That was the WORST party I have ever been to.

All those pretentious prep school snobs, designer clothes, way too much food, and bottles and bottles of champagne. Judging eyes assessing and undressing me with every step I took.
And what Très and the other 2 Stooges did?... I don't even what to think about THAT incident right now.

I should have known Très was always prepared to play dirty. He just couldn't take no for an answer; he couldn't handle the fact that not only was I not attracted to him (or his money), but that I also have feelings for Ryan instead.

I shuddered and did my best to keep the anger bubbling within me down.

It's all over now though, and nobody needs to know about what happened tonight.

*************************************
Hello my lovely readers!

If only Ava knew how wrong she is.
It's not all over. 
And the last person she wants to find out.....will discover the truth sooner or later.

Can you guess what happened at the party?? Leave me a comment about what you think about the story right now.
We are now entering into the final frontier of this story so stick with me for a little while longer!

Take care, 
Cerise xx :)