Chapter 4

I solemnly swear that under no circumstances am I condoning cyber stalking.

I repeat DO NOT cyber stalk.

However, I never said anything about honing skills just in case the FBI decides to hire me as a recruit.

I've spent every day this week thinking about some guy I met at a party who drug me into his little bet. I may have also spent all week doing a little practice training. Like posts from a year ago on multiple platforms kind of investigating.

But don't even try to judge me. I already know that girls cyber stalk guys all the time. It's the new pregame for a date, or sometimes it's famous guys you'll never even meet. Trust me, I already know.

Anyways, an extensive Instagram analysis shows me whoever takes his pictures does just fine, so what am I doing here outside his door?

I'm invisible. I'm completely and utterly normal. I'm a science geek and book nerd. We weren't ever supposed to see each other again. No matter how many times I've had dreams about catching the attention of someone like Declan Wilder, they were always just that—dreams.

I knew it would never happen, yet here I am.

Bad news: I can't bring myself knock on this stupid door. Good news: I don't have to because Chris opens the door with a wide open mouth and surprised amber eyes.

"Holy shit! Amelia-Jane!" He yells. "What the fuck are you doing here? Brandon, run! It's Amelia-Jane."

He wraps his arms around me tightly, making it nearly impossible to move, and my feeble attempt to return his gesture is useless, especially when I end up stuck between two guys I've only met once. They're all so affectionate, and if I'm being honest, it's a little weird. Sweet, but weird.

"I'm guessing Declan didn't tell you I was coming today, huh?"

"Fuck no! I can't believe you're here!" Chris yells.

Brandon smiles before adding, "He did tell us allll about you, though."

Leave it to Chris and Brandon to make me feel like a part of the family before I even enter the house. While Brandon opens the door, Chris drags me inside with his arm still wrapped around my shoulder. And on cue, just as if they've been summoned, two more guys glide around the corner from the kitchen.

The shortest one introduces himself as Zack, followed by a precious cinnamon roll with a perm, who is skinny, towering height of 6'3. He's not big on handshakes or curt nods either because when he leans down to hug me, my feet lift up off the ground.

"So, you're the one Declan's been talking about all week."

I'm severely discombobulated and amused at the same time. His name is Tyler. That is literally all I know about this guy. Are any of these boys calm and normal? Is anyone in Los Angeles calm and normal?

Probably, but definitely not here.

Chris is yelling, "Yo, Declan. Amelia-Jane is here. Hurry your ass up."

"You know you guys can call me AJ."

"Aww, that's so cute." Tyler says before letting go of my shoulder and heading towards the couch. "He's probably trying to fix his hair."

Zack interjects. "Yeah, it takes him like a fucking hour to get ready."

Damn. I knew he was high maintenance, but his hair is ten times shorter than my unruly curls. It shouldn't take him that long to get ready, should it? I'm beginning to think I should have plopped down on the couch instead of half leaning, half sitting on the arm with my camera bag slung across my shoulder.

"What's in the bag?" Chris asks, motioning between us.

"Oh, it's just my camera. I Declan and I were just going to take a few pictures today."

"Oooh," Tyler says. "Can you do me, too? Do you have time?"

I may not be the most beautiful starlet LA has ever seen, nowhere even close, but as a female stranger surrounded only by a small group of guys, I seem to have attained all attention at the moment. So much so that everyone in the room is staring at me, waiting for an answer.

I mean why not. I've never really done group shots, especially with a group of guys who have huge social media platforms. This has the potential to be extremely fun.

Or feel like I'm working at a daycare, but I'll risk it.

"Yeah, I've got all afternoon. I can do everyone if you want. Maybe a few individuals and then a couple of group shots or something." I glance at my watch briefly. "Can you guys be ready in like ten minutes? Maybe fifteen?"

There are too many different versions of yes to distinguish exactly what each is saying, but I'm assuming they're all going when I'm left alone in the silence of their large living room.

That is until Wilder sneaks in, leaning against the wall a few feet in front of me.

He's a little more casual today with a comfy, off white sweatshirt, sneakers, and some extremely distressed black jeans. By extremely distressed, I mean gaping holes that I subconsciously shrug off because if anyone can pull it off, it's Wilder.

He looks so perfect standing there just casually leaning against the wall, forcing me to pull out my camera a little earlier than planned.

Click.

"I don't think you know what the fuck you just got yourself into." He says a half second after I lower my camera to view the image.

Is he angry, or is that his model face? The picture is amazing, but he looks as if he's staring into a void of angry self destruction. It's beautifully scary, a tragic masterpiece. Nonetheless, I think he'll be impressed.

He slowly strides towards me, so that when I look up, I'm met with a face that looks much more like my Wilder, that arrogant smile overtaking his face.

"If I can handle you, I can definitely handle them." I roll my eyes before tilting the camera around to show him the picture.

"That's actually really good."

I gasp dramatically. "I told you I was fairly decent. You didn't believe me?"

"No, I believed you. I just didn't know you'd be able to make me look better than I already do. That's almost impossible."

"Wow, handsome." I emphasize sarcastically. "Are you sure that narcissistic head of yours is going to be able to fit out the door when we leave?"

Don't get me wrong. He is undeniably handsome, but he's also one arrogant son of a bitch. Probably to mask some massive insecurity or something. This is Hollywood, after all. However, his head fits through the door just fine, and even into his Jeep, too. He was right about one thing, though. I really did get myself into something.

"Okay, Chris. Turn a little more towards Tyler. Yeah, just like that. Zack, could you actually look at the camera for once today? Thank you. Okay, now look at me and smile or whatever smirky looks you do. No, not like that." I pause and allow the lens to focus.

The anxious photography amateur with six wild boys.

Someone help!