1. Fallon

Fallon

T he roar of the crowd vibrates through my body as they chant for their favorite Pop Princess to take the stage. I place my hand on my stomach, willing my lunch to stay down. As my famous Pop Princess sister's personal assistant, I'm not used to being on the other side of the curtain. But since she took ill with a bad case of pneumonia three days ago as her identical twin, I was thrown into the chaos of her crazy life, replacing her for television interviews. I even walked the Red Carpet for the latest superhero movie. But nothing prepared me for stepping onto a stage with twenty-five thousand of her screaming fans, also known as Carlys, all chanting my sister's name, McKenna Carlisle.

My sister loves her fans so much that she hated the thought of canceling even one of her events. She convinced me to take her place to finish the last week of her world tour. One concert is all I have to get through until I board her private plane to Cabo and relax for the next week before I go back to being her personal assistant for her biggest show yet, the Super Bowl halftime show.

"McKenna!" A hand grabs my arm, spinning me around, bringing me face to face with Amber, McKenna's manager and an extremely handsome, muscular guy who looks vaguely familiar.

"McKenna," Amber slowly says my name as if to remind me of who I'm supposed to be. She is the only person besides McKenna who knows the truth about my identity. "This is Peyton Mann, the hottest rookie quarterback in the NFL."

That's how I know him. I've seen his face plastered all over everything, from t-shirts to cell phone commercials with his trademark "Peyton, he's your Mann."

I wish. I snort.

"Did you just snort?" He quirks an eyebrow, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

Handsome and charming.

I'm doomed.

"Um, hi, I'm Fa...," I start to say, then correct myself when I realize my mistake. "McKenna. I'm McKenna." I repeat, almost as if I'm trying to convince myself who I am. I can only hope that Peyton didn't pick up on my little slip of the tongue.

"Nice to meet you, Fa McKenna." His boyish smile changes into a devilish grin as he teases me.

My thoughts are no longer with the screaming fans chanting my sister's name. My thoughts are now with the handsome quarterback standing in front of me. The only problem is he thinks I'm my sister.

That clears my head pretty quickly, reminding me this is all an act. It's not me he's interested in, it's my famous pop singer sister, McKenna, "Nice to meet you too. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a show to perform." I step toward the stage, putting Peyton and this interaction behind me.

"McKenna, break a leg," Peyton calls. His deep voice vibrates through my body, and for the first time in my life, I'm jealous of my twin sister.

***

The concert went better than expected. My nerves finally settled, and I was able to perform almost as well as my twin. No wardrobe malfunctions, no forgotten lyrics. It was almost perfect. If only the man watching me from the wings was really here for me, and not my famous sister.

I take one more glance backstage, where Peyton has been standing all night watching me perform, but he's no longer there. I should feel relieved, but I don't. A part of me hoped he would still be there waiting for me.

And what, Fallon? He wasn't here to see you. He was here for McKenna.

After the third encore song, I take one last bow and dash off the stage, slipping into the dressing room. I hop in the shower, scrubbing away the makeup and glitter, watching as it runs down the drain.

Once my hair is somewhat dry, I tie it up into a high ponytail, throw on a black pair of yoga pants, and wear my favorite classic band from the 80s t-shirt. Forgoing makeup, I slide into a pair of sandals, grab my carry-on bag and head to the car waiting for me at a secret side exit to take me to McKenna's private plane.

Seven days in Cabo is exactly what I need. I pat my carry-on bag, holding a tiny pink bikini I plan to wear on the secluded beach. It's not something I would ever wear around other people, but since I'll have the whole private house and beach to myself, I could run around naked if I wanted to.

I sigh back into the soft leather of the limo. This is life—well, maybe not every day, but for the next few days, I'm going to relax, enjoy the sun, and forget about a certain sexy quarterback.

Luckily, the runway where McKenna's plane is located is on a private strip of the airport, so the driver is able to pull right up to the plane, and I don't have to deal with the paparazzi.

"Welcome aboard." Emma, our flight attendant, greets me.

"Thanks, Emma. I'm more than ready for a vacation." I flop down in the closest seat, fastening the lap buckle around my waist. I close my eyes and sigh, leaning back into the comfortable leather seat.

The roar of the engines is oddly soothing, helping me to forget a pair of deep brown eyes that lightly crinkled at the corners as he teased me about fumbling my name when I was pretending to be McKenna.

"Everyone, please take your seat. We are getting ready for takeoff." Emma's words crackle on the loudspeaker.

Perfect. I'll soon be hundreds of miles away from Peyton.

I wait for the relief to lift off my shoulders, knowing I'll never see Peyton again, but it never comes. Instead, a little voice in my head wonders what it would have been like to have met him as Fallon and not McKenna.

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. It's a silly dream for a silly girl. And I'm the practical twin, so I need to stop fantasizing about something that will never happen. A sigh escapes my lips at the thought.

"Is this seat taken?" a deep voice I thought I'd never hear again asks as his warm body slides into the seat next to me, conveniently blocking my escape.

"Um, no, but what are you doing here?" I hope he can't hear the panic in my voice. Both from having him sit next to me on my sister's private plane and because of my irrational fear of flying.

"I thought I'd take a little vacation before the Super Bowl. Amber said you wouldn't mind if I tagged along." He laces his hand with mine, entwining our fingers.

"It's perfect for publicity." Amber's overly cheery voice comes from above my head as she leans over the top of the seat. "The Pop Princess and the Golden Boy Quarterback—it's a PR dream."

I'm going to kill Amber. She knows how much I hate lying about being McKenna while she's sick. But this is asking too much to deceive Peyton like this.

"Peyton, I um." I lose my train of thought as the airplane takes off. I've flown hundreds of times. I should be over this fear, but my stomach drops as the plane rises higher and higher in the night sky.

"It's okay, McKenna. I'm right there with you." He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. That's when I realized our fingers were still laced together.

Damn. I could really fall for this guy.