Royally Crushed (50 page)

As Liv approached the circular desk in the center of the room, she could hear the receptionist chatting animatedly. Peeking up over the edge of the tall desk, Liv could see that the receptionist’s dyed blond hair was formed into a dozen long thick dreadlocks and was pulled back from her face with a hot pink scarf. She was wearing a short strapless dress and an armful of silver bangles that set off her dark skin perfectly. She motioned to Liv to wait, and quickly finished up her conversation.

Looking up at Liv, she smiled. “Welcome to Music Mix. Here to check in?”

Liv grinned. “Yes, I am. My name is Olivia Phillips.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Olivia. I’m Gloria. Here’s the scoop: I give you keys to your flat, and you’re on your own for today. Settle in, meet your flatmates, get some sleep. Just be back here at nine tomorrow morning. Simon Brown can be a bit testy in the morning, so don’t be late—it’s best to stay on his good side.”

Liv recalled that her acceptance letter had come from a guy named Simon Brown—she now realized he must be the one in charge. What a fabulous job.

Gloria shuffled through a box on her desk and plucked out a small yellow envelope. She pulled out two keys and
a card with an address printed on it. Scanning the card, Gloria passed it across the desk to Liv, along with the keys. She pulled a pocket-size London Underground map out of her desk drawer and circled one of the stops in hot pink marker.

“You’re sharing a flat with two other girls,” Gloria explained. “They have both checked in with me already, so they should be at the flat when you get there. Think you can find it?”

Liv nodded again and turned toward the escalator. “Thanks a lot. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Gloria smiled and pushed a button to answer the phone that had just started ringing.

Riding the escalator down, Liv could see that the Music Mix lobby had become much more crowded since she had arrived just a few minutes earlier. She scanned the faces and chic outfits as she passed, wishing she were dressed just a little cuter and didn’t have her bulky wheelie and carry-on—she knew she looked like a tourist.

Liv glanced down to study the tube map as she made her way into the revolving door to leave the building. Distracted, she didn’t notice someone step off Oxford Street and into the door as she exited.

Suddenly, Liv was jolted backward. As she lost her balance, both Liv and her wheelie toppled over onto the
sidewalk. Though she had come out on the right side of the door this time, her bulky carry-on bag had not been so lucky. The strap of the bag was still attached securely to Liv’s shoulder, but the bag itself was stuck on the other side of the glass in the compartment behind her. The revolving door had come to a complete standstill.

Liv pulled her arm out of the bag’s strap to release it and craned her neck around, hoping no one was stuck in the door. Her face reddened as she realized that someone was definitely standing—trapped—in the other glass compartment. The person turned to face her, and Liv’s mouth dropped open.

Staring at her from the other side of the glass, stuck in a revolving door between Oxford Street and the Music Mix lobby, was Josh Cameron.

It felt like hours had gone by. Josh Cameron had quickly freed himself and Liv’s bag from the door and was now standing—staring—at Liv on the ground. And was it her imagination, or had she just shouted “cheerio” to the world’s biggest pop star? Liv straightened her legs, but continued to sit on the sidewalk, stumped and horrified.
Nice first impression, Liv. Suave.

Josh Cameron smiled as he held Liv’s carry-on out to her. “I believe this is yours. . . .”

“Um, thanks.”
Um, thanks? Really great response . . . very witty and charming.

Josh Cameron tilted his head to the side just slightly and looked at Liv with concern. “Are you okay? That looked like a pretty bad fall.” She scrambled to her feet and took her bag from him, groping for the right words.

Come on, supersexy girl within,
Liv begged inwardly,
say something clever and alluring! Oh God, you’re just staring. . . . Say something!
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little embarrassed. You don’t think anyone saw that, do you? Hah hah hah!” Liv laughed too loudly at her own nonjoke, quickly straightening her hair and brushing the cigarette butt off her jeans.

“I’m Olivia, by the way. And I’m really sorry. It’s just that, well, my friends always say this is the kind of thing that I do, uh, you know, when I guess I want to meet celebrities, or, um, make a winning first impression, or uh . . . hah hah hah,”
Shut up, just SHUT UP! What are you talking about?!

Josh Cameron was smiling at her, clearly amused. He patiently ran a hand through his gorgeous curls as Liv stuttered through her ridiculous monologue. By the time she finally had the self-control to shut up, he had begun to laugh.

“Well, Olivia, I better be off. It’s been lovely meeting you. I really do hope you’re not hurt.” As he made his way back through the revolving door, Josh Cameron turned once more and looked at Liv. He smiled his famous smile, and walked into the lobby toward the waiting crowd.

Liv stared after him for a few seconds, then backed away from Music Mix’s front doors. She was pleased to see that her white athletic sock was definitely poking up over the cuff of her jeans.
Really cute, Liv. Very chic.

As her mind replayed the past five minutes over and over—coming up with about twelve significantly more glamorous ways she could have met the biggest pop star in the world—Liv made her way back to the tube and toward her new home. She had been in London less than three hours, and had already managed to fit in a lifetime’s worth of humiliation. And, much as she hated to admit it, Liv suspected this wasn’t the end of it.