going out with lewis

MARGARET'S POV

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a soft glow on Jessie's face as she sat engrossed in the television. I lay sprawled on the floor of her cozy living room, lost in my thoughts.

"Still thinking about it?" Jessie's voice cut through my reverie. "He wants a collaboration, not a marriage proposal," she added, her eyes fixed on the screen.

I pushed myself up, my nightgown clinging to my skin as I stood and sat on the couch with Jessie. Jessie's gaze met mine, and I wondered how she managed to look so effortlessly put together even in her casual loungewear.

"We've got school this morning," I reminded her. Our schedules rarely allowed us to attend regularly, but today was different. Lewis would be there.

"School?" Jessie raised an eyebrow. "We've got an interview at 1 pm," she pointed out.

I linked my arm through hers, leaning against her shoulder. "We can leave around 11 am," I suggested. "And besides, prom is just around the corner. I bet someone at school is dying to ask you to be their prom date."

Jessie rolled her eyes dramatically. "Of course," she quipped. "They'll be falling over themselves to dance with Jessie J. Maybe they'll even die happily afterward."

I chuckled. "Let's avoid actual casualties," I teased. "Too much drama. Plus, reporters would have a field day."

Jessie tapped my shoulder and stood up. "Who knows?" she mused, heading toward the door. "Maybe you'll uncover the coffin part—the secret burial details."

As she disappeared down the hallway, I couldn't help but giggle. "I won," I declared to the empty room, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. 

************************************

OUR VAN ARRIVED IN FRONT OF BFP, the school where young aspiring musicians, actors, actresses, and privileged trainees in the entertainment industry gather. While it's not the only school of its kind, BFP has recently gained more recognition than others.

Jessie's instructions echoed in my mind as we came out of the van and walked through the hallway. "Don't just walk like a regular student," she had said. "We are JessieM. Know your level and just wave as usual."

"I will," I assured her.

The school had a strict uniform policy. Today, we were clad in short black pleated skirts and crisp white button-down long sleeves. As we made our way, congratulations flowed from different people. "Congratulations, JessieM," they chimed, and we graciously accepted their well wishes.

Then I and Jessie went in different directions because our classrooms were different.

Inside the classroom, my friends greeted me with a familiar buzz. "Bzz, bzz, bzz, bzz," they teased. I laughed, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "I was nervous," I confessed as I joined them.

Blake Underwood and Tim Brian, aspiring producers; Sera Smith, aiming to be an actress; and Sophia Timstand, a talented ballet dancer—all my close friends.

Sophia raised an eyebrow. "I almost thought you were going to transform into a bee," she quipped.

"Yeah," I replied, playing along. "A bee that would eat you up." My attempt at humor fell flat, but I chuckled nonetheless.

Blake pulled a magazine from his bag and dropped it on my desk. "This magazine will be released tomorrow," he announced. "Since you're all my close friends, you get a sneak peek. You'll be the first to see it—well, aside from the photographer and everyone involved in the production, of course."

Tim leaned in. "I heard you'll be featured on six pages," he said.

Blake grinned. "And six pages it is." He flipped open the magazine to the spread where he appeared, and we huddled together, eagerly examining the photos. 

We leaned in to look at the photos together, our laughter filling the room. Sophia's keen eye didn't miss a beat. "Great abs," she commented, "but they're edited. Your abs aren't as defined as they appear here."

Blake retorted, "When was the last time you saw them, Sophia?"

Sophia persisted, attempting to raise Blake's shirt. He deftly blocked her. "Let's see them now if there's any difference," she challenged.

"Don't harass me, women!" Blake teased, and we erupted into laughter.

As we continued flipping through the pages, one particular photo caught our attention. "Now, these are real abs," Sera declared. "Who the hell is this guy? He looks like he just stepped out of a fantasy book."

Tim, always the knowledgeable one, raised an eyebrow. "You don't know who that is?" he asked, glancing at the rest of us.

"I believe that's why I asked," Sera deadpanned.

"His name is Aaron Liam," Tim informed us. "Twenty-one years old. Son of one of the country's top business owners. He studies in Country B, but rumor has it he's back in the country now."

"And," Tim leaned in, "he's supposedly a close friend of Lewis Connor." He paused. "Though some say it's just a rumor. None of us are close to Lewis, so we can't confirm."

Speaking of Lewis, I lowered my voice, leaning in toward my friends. "He wants a collaboration," I revealed, my smile tight with excitement.

Sophia's eyes widened. "No way!" she exclaimed, glancing around the room.

"Congratulations," Blake chimed in. "But I thought you were going to say he asked you out."

"Well," Tim interjected, "this is a start."

"Indeed," I agreed, my happiness flowing over.

Just then, someone dropped a paper on my desk as they walked by. I unfolded it, and we all leaned in to read. The note simply said, "It's Lewis. I'm outside your classroom, in front of one of the windows."

I cleared my throat, my heart racing as Lewis stood outside the window. The fact that my friends had read the note with me made my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Gathering my bag, I stood up, glancing back at my friends. "See you later, everyone," I called out, waving as I walked out.

Their smiles and waves followed me as I stepped into the hallway. And there he was—Lewis Connor, waiting patiently. "Hi," I greeted him, my voice a little breathless.

"Hi," he replied, his smile warm and inviting. His next question caught me off guard. "Are you free throughout the day?"

I looked sideways, my nerves getting the best of me. "I have a schedule at 1 pm," I admitted. "And I'm supposed to leave school by 11 a.m."

Lewis's eyes sparkled. "Then let's make good use of the time," he said, extending his hand toward me. "Before time runs out."

My mind raced. What did he mean? But before I could ask, he took my hand, and we ran through the hallway, leaving the classroom.