Friday night finally arrives, and with it, summer vacation. I skip my usual set at the Night Owl, because we were planning on going to the movies to celebrate – Zee, Jamie, Grace and me – but Jamie has other plans at the last minute.

For reasons I can't even begin to fathom, all four of us got invited to a keg party at Aaron Young's house. He's undeniably cool, and a senior, but both Alix and Micah think he's a jerk (and he goes through girlfriends faster than a hot knife through butter).

Still, the lure of popularity points and cute seniors is too much for Jamie. She and Grace end up going to the party, while Zee and I skip it to watch a Frozen rerun at the cinema near my house (for about the fifth time since it came out).

It works out pretty well – Zee will spend the night at my place, then tomorrow we'll go together to band practice at her house in the afternoon.

It's as if none of the stuff with Fable even happened in the first place.

For a few days after they left, I had this weird feeling. It was like Felix, and Alastaire and the others had smashed into my orbit and passed by as quickly as a comet, and now I was floating unanchored watching the light fade away and waiting for my gravity to return.

It did return, little by little, and things are starting to feel normal. Or at least, as normal as things ever get for me.

The boys have moved on, and are on holiday in different spots all over the world, taking a break between the tour and their next album. It's time for me to move on too.

As we walk home after the movie, Zee and I debate for the millionth time whether a relationship between Elsa and Jack Frost would work out. I don't see the problem with movie crossovers, but Zee thinks it's crazy. I turn on my phone to Google some fan art and change her mind.

Very important stuff. Worrying about OTPs and whether Jelsa has canon potential. Life is well and truly back to normal.

When I turn on my phone, I find two missed calls from home, and three from an unknown number.

The ones from home are obvious – the movie ran a bit longer than I thought it would, and ever since the accident, mom gets extremely freaked out any time I'm back late from anywhere.

And as for the calls from the unknown number, that'll probably be yet another journalist who found my contact details online.

They've been hassling me non-stop since Saturday.

I quicken my pace anyway, and we reach my house in just a few minutes.

As Zee and I walk into my driveway I notice an unfamiliar black Jeep parked next to my mom's Kia.

Mom didn't mention anything about having people over for dinner.

As I walk through the front door a chill runs down my spine. It's gone in a flash, but I get the feeling that something bad is about to happen.

*****

"Darling! Close the door and come on through!" My mom's voice rings out across the house.

As Zee and I step from the hall into the kitchen, we're met with a scene that knocks the air right out of my lungs.

First I take in my mom and dad sitting at the kitchen table with a pile of files and a half empty bottle of red wine.

Nothing out of place about that. It's Friday night, after all.

What is out of place however, is the dark haired boy elbows deep in the kitchen sink, his back to me as he passes dishes to the blonde boy on drying duty next to him.

They don't need to turn around for me to know who they are.

Zee doesn't need a hint either – she shrieks so loudly that Felix and Alastaire whip around to face us, dropping a porcelain bowl in the process. Everyone's silent as the bowl smashes on the floor, sending bits of foam and dishwater flying into the air.

"F... F... Fe..." Zee stutters in between hyperventilating. She grabs my shoulders, eyes as large as saucers, and speaks very slowly and seriously. "Ashling. Why are Felix Lockhart and Alastaire Cassiel-Kensington in your kitchen?"

I'd like to know the same thing.

"About time," Felix says.

Even wearing my mom's lumo pink washing gloves, he looks like he walked straight off the set of a music video, dressed head to toe in black with his dark hair falling over his hazel eyes.

And of course Alastaire is as stunning as ever. As usual, he's Felix's polar opposite, the light to his dark. He’s dressed in skinny jeans and a white v-neck sweater, the light glinting off the burnished gold of his longish wavy blonde hair.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

I currently have two of the most beautiful, most famous boys in the world washing dishes in my kitchen.

The thought alone makes me feel a little dazed.

Alastaire winks at me as he scoops up the shards of bowl scattered on the floor, then places them on the kitchen counter.

"Nice of you to join us, Cupcake."

Oh. My. God. He called me Cupcake. Does that mean... did they see it?

There is a series of framed photos hanging on the wall in our entrance hall. My dad took them on my third birthday, when my mom decided to throw a ridiculous cupcake-themed party, complete with the birthday girl, i.e. me, dressed in a puffy dress shaped like a cupcake, complete with beaded sprinkles and organza icing. In every single photo, I have icing and crumbs smeared all over my face, my hands, my hair, so thick you can barely see my skin underneath.

I've asked my mom about a gazillion times to take the photos down, but she says I look cute dressed as a cupcake and smeared with food, and they're her favorite.

Gotta love parents.

I can't believe Felix and Alastaire have seen the wall of shame. Or maybe I'm reading too much into it. It could just be a coincidence. Maybe they didn't see it.

"We kept some dessert for you," Alastaire says, placing a bowl of apple crumble on the table in front of me. "Just try not to get it all over yourself."

They saw it.

"Are you ok sweetheart?" My mom asks. "You look a little shaken."

"I'm fine," I lie. "What's going on?"

"Probably best to let these two young gentlemen explain that," my dad says, rising from his seat. He emphasizes the word gentlemen as if challenging the boys to dare try anything ungentlemanly on his watch.

"We'll be in the living room," my mom says as she heads for the door.

"Right next door," my dad says, still glaring at the boys.

"You too sweetie," my mom says as she drags Zee out of the kitchen. I hear Zee's protests as my mom closes the door behind them.

I watch them leave the room with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

A week ago I would have been overjoyed in this situation. Two members of Fable, my favorite band in the world, in my home, wanting to speak to me.

But after fainting in front of them in the dressing room, and then passing out in front of Felix in my own bedroom, my embarrassment eclipses everything else.

It's obvious why the boys are here. They feel sorry for me after seeing what a loser I am. They think I'm a charity case. Or maybe their management pressured them into checking up on that one crazy fan who clearly has a heap of issues. Maybe it's like the last time Felix came to my house, and they need to check there isn't going to be a situation after everything that happened.

I want the floor to swallow me.

I wish mom and dad had called me and given me some warning. I would have slept over at Zee's instead. Although that's probably what the missed calls were about. Damn.

"What do you want?" I ask. I know my voice sounds sharp, but right now I just want them to leave before I start crying out of sheer humiliation.

"Wow, to the point," Alastaire says as he flops down into a chair at the kitchen table. "I can't believe you're not thrilled to see us. Are you sure you're actually a fan of ours'?"

"No... I am happy to see you. I mean, I'm really happy... and grateful. I'm just... confused. And I can't believe my mom made you do the dishes," I say. "I am so, so sorry."

"We offered," Alastaire replies. "It's only fair, after we ate supper with them. And a really amazing dessert... you mum's a great cook".

"You ate dinner with my parents?"

"Yeah. We've been here since six," Felix says. "You sure know how to keep a guy waiting."

"But... this doesn't make any sense," I say, searching Felix's face. "You're meant to be skiing in Switzerland, not washing dishes in my kitchen. And Alastaire's meant to be in the south of France, and Ben's in..."

I catch myself and stop mid-sentence. I've just given away that I'm stalking them on Twitter. So awkward.

I expect the guys to laugh at me, or be a little creeped out, but they don't seem to think there's anything weird about me knowing their travel schedules.

"Yeah, that's what the tabloids think," Alastaire says.

"And our idiot manager," Felix adds. "It's what would have happened if I hadn't met you the other night."

His hazel eyes stare intensely into mine.

My knees are shaking so I pull out the chair next to Alastaire and sit down at the table. I don't want them to see that I'm feeling faint from the shock of finding them in my kitchen.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I'm still totally confused. Why are you here?"

"I'll explain everything," Felix says. "But first, where do I put these?" He waves the pink washing gloves.

"Just leave them on the side of the sink," I say.

I glance over at the dishes the boys have washed. There are two broken bowls and a cracked wine glass, and everything looks soapy. One plate still has a strip of tagliatelle glued to it. It's as if neither one of them has ever washed a dish before in their entire lives.

Although, that's probably about right.

Like most of the boys at the prestigious boarding school where they met, both Felix and Alastaire come from immense wealth. They grew up in mansions and manor houses with butlers and maids and gardeners and who knows what else, so it figures that they don't know how to do simple stuff like washing dishes. In one vlog on the Fable YouTube channel, Lyall and Ben found out that Alastaire had never made a cup of tea, not even once in his whole life, and had no idea how it was done. They teased him about that for ages.

Oh my god. The other boys. Are they here too?

"Are you... alone?" I ask.

I'm met with blank expressions.

"I mean, are the other guys... the rest of the band... they're not here, right?"

I'm imagining Ben, Lyall and Elliot sprawled out on my bed upstairs laughing at my poster-covered walls.

"It's just us," Felix says. "The others are nearby."

"Nearby?"

"They're... somewhere close. We don't need them here right now."

"What Felix is trying to say," Alastaire cuts in, "is that he tried to sneak away without telling anyone, so that he could see you alone. Luckily I caught him as he was leaving."

Felix glares at him and I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Scary.

Alastaire ignores the murderous stare and reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his bright blue eyes flickering around my face. "And we couldn't have that, now could we Cupcake?" He says. "Why should grumpy old Felix get to see you all alone?"

Felix glares at him with narrowed eyes. "Cut it out Alastaire. Ashling, we don't have a lot of time to talk. We came here because there's something you're going to do for us."

What the... WHAT?

I gulp down my anxiety. Try to sound confident.

"Okay then," I say, leaning forward in my chair. "What do you want?"