PART ONE

Marisol was tired of smiling.

She slammed her hand down on the steering wheel, gritting her teeth. Outside the car, cameras flashed and clicked.

She'd really come to hate the noise of a camera shutter clicking. It kind of haunted her nightmares.

Marisol just really, really wanted to go home. But she physically couldn't.

The paparazzi surrounded her car, raising their torture devices that stung without ever touching you. Once Marisol retired, she never wanted to see a camera again.

She rolled the window down. "Hey," she shouted. "I'm trying to drive."

Marisol was really starting to regret coming to the restaurant.

First thing that had gone wrong: the cashier had recognized her. Who wouldn't?

Next: the waiter had insisted on a selfie and an autograph, promising her a discount. Everyone wanted a picture and her signature, as if proof she was real.

Would their friends just not believe them if they said "ohmygosh I saw Marisol Ainsleigh at Chili's!!"

Then the family next to her had stared at her the entire time until the oldest girl had come over and asked for a photo with her entire family.

There went those freakin cameras again.

Then, as she was walking out, a twenty year old girl had gushed about how much she had loved Marisol in [fill in the blank].

And now? The paparazzi had surrounded her car and weren't letting her leave her parking spot.

She could've moved, of course, but that would require driving over one of them.

At this point, she was considering revving the engine just to scare them.

She didn't care that they were filming.

Hello? Boundaries?

Marisol rolled up her window and hit her fist on the dashboard. All she was trying to do was get home so she could cry in peace.

After honking her horn about ten times, she lost her patience. Marisol opened the door and stepped outside, folding her arms and planting her stance.

"Move. I'm trying to drive," she repeated firmly.

When they stood there, ignoring her and capturing more photos, she really snapped. "WILL YOU MOVE? I AM TRYING TO DRIVE."

They still didn't move or respond, earning some curses from her. "Go ahead. Post this on the internet. Capture your headlines. But I have the right to call the police."

Was she going too far?

One guy moved the camera away from his face. "Calm down dude," he called. Then he raised the camera again.

Nope. Marisol was done with these guys.

Marisol cracked her knuckles once at a time and pulled out her phone, pretending to dial.

Immediately, the Paparazzi scattered hurriedly. She got in her car and drove away, furious with the world.