Model to Holywood

"Hahaha~"

Inside the villa, Britney looked at the surveillance outside and chuckled softly.

Roca shook his head; Britney was more playful than he was.

After turning off the surveillance, the two of them headed to the dining room together.

As dusk settled, the dining room was brightly lit.

Britney's dining room had a cozy atmosphere, with a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a U-shaped sofa wrapped around an oval dining table.

The table was set for dinner, with a rich spread: grilled lamb chops, creamy mushrooms, ham with green beans, fried onion rings, and fruit pastries, filling the room with a delicious aroma.

"What a feast!" Roca exclaimed.

"Thanks, I made all of this. Try it and tell me what you think," Britney said, smiling and pulling him down by the arm to sit.

"You made this?" Roca asked in surprise. Looking closely, the ham was unevenly sliced, and the onion rings were burnt, typical of a beginner's attempt.

"Yeah, it's my first time. Give me some feedback!" Britney rested her chin in her hands, watching his every move.

Roca took a bite of the green beans. They were a bit salty, and the lamb chops were overcooked—flaws were obvious. But considering these dishes were made by Britney, even if she had just placed raw ingredients on the table, it would still count as a gourmet meal.

"How is it?" Britney asked nervously.

Roca pressed his lips together and said seriously, "I don't believe it. These dishes are so perfect in color, aroma, and taste—better than anything a Michelin chef could make. How could you have cooked them?"

Britney laughed happily and extended her right hand, showing a white band-aid on her finger. "I really did! See, I even cut my finger."

Roca paused, feeling a lump in his throat. His emotions became complicated. They had agreed to just be friends, but now, how could they keep things casual?

"Britney, you didn't have to do all this," he said, holding her finger and gently kissing it.

"You cook for me all the time. What's wrong with me cooking for you once?" Britney smiled as she replied.

Roca shook his head and quietly cut into his lamb chop.

"Britney, we're still just good friends, right?" he asked.

"Yes!" Britney blinked.

"We're just friends, right?" Roca repeated.

Britney raised an eyebrow. "What are you trying to say?"

"You're too good to me, and it's making me feel pressured," Roca said earnestly.

"I'm too good to you? Am I better to you than you are to me? If I don't feel pressured, why should you?" Britney asked with a teasing smile.

Roca thought for a moment. "I'm afraid our friendship isn't so pure anymore."

"You're afraid you'll fall in love with me?" Britney asked.

"Your charm is impossible to resist," Roca admitted.

"Why resist? Would falling in love with me be so bad?" Britney stared deeply into his eyes.

Roca hesitated, unsure of what to say, so he buried his head in his food. Though the dishes weren't great, he finished them all.

"Did you really enjoy it? If you did, I'll cook for you more often," Britney said happily. Seeing him finish the food she made gave her the same sense of accomplishment as her songs topping the charts. She liked this feeling.

Roca forced a smile. "Britney, please don't cook anymore. If people find out about this, your fans might just kill me."

"I'll protect you!" Britney patted her chest confidently.

"I'm a man. I don't need your protection."

"Ugh, more of that macho stuff. I despise you~" Britney said dismissively.

Roca shrugged. "Aside from being a man, what other advantages do I have as your friend?"

"How is gender an advantage?" Britney questioned.

"Of course it is—because I can easily pick you up," Roca said with a grin, lifting her in his arms.

"Haha, stop it!" Britney giggled.

After some playful banter, they walked around the villa side by side. Though not too large, the villa was luxuriously decorated, with a music fountain, rose garden, small sports field, and home theater.

The villa was set in a high, secluded location, making it difficult for paparazzi to catch a glimpse.

"My concert is this weekend. Are you coming?" Britney asked as they sat on a garden bench, watching the sunset in the peaceful surroundings.

"I bought three tickets. I was planning to go with Kate and Lima, but they're in New York, so I don't know who to invite to your concert," Roca said, gently running his fingers through her soft blonde hair.

"I can get you a seat as close to the stage as possible," Britney offered.

"No need. I'd rather just blend in with the crowd and cheer like a normal fan," Roca said.

"You're my fan?" Britney smiled.

"Of course! No one loves you, your music, or your lasting legacy more than I do. I want you to be the forever-legendary Britney," Roca said softly.

Britney tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Are you really my fan? Then sing one of my songs for me."

"You really want to hear me sing?" Roca raised an eyebrow.

"Hahaha~" Britney couldn't help but laugh, remembering the last time she heard him sing. He was completely tone-deaf, and it was hilariously bad.

"Yes, sing!" Britney insisted.

"Alright, you're a brave girl for asking. Here goes," Roca smiled and began belting out his favorite song, *Sometimes*:

"You tell me you're in love with me,

Like you can't take your pretty eyes away from me,

It's not that I don't want to stay…"

"Hahaha~" Britney laughed uncontrollably, kicking her legs as she listened to him sing.

Roca didn't mind. After last time, his embarrassment threshold had risen dramatically.

After one verse, he even started dancing like in the music video.

"Sometimes I run,

Sometimes I hide,

Sometimes I'm scared of you…"

The music video for this song was beautiful—blue skies, green grass, and Britney in a white dress. Absolutely stunning.

The dance moves were great too. After filming *Honey Dance*, Roca had been practicing for *Step Up*, so he was familiar with the choreography.

"Wow, impressive!" Britney clapped and whistled.

"Britney, come on!" Roca said, pulling her hand.

"No way, I've forgotten it all!" Britney shook her head.

"No worries, I'll teach you!"

"You'll teach me? Haha, I helped choreograph this dance, and you're going to teach me?" Britney laughed and crouched down.

Roca shamelessly continued, taking her hand and softly humming the song as they danced outside the garden.

"Britney, there are two police officers at the gate," the chef and housekeeper, Mary, walked in and said.

"The police? Really?" Britney asked, surprised.

"Yes, they patrol the area regularly. Someone reported seeing blood at the gate, so they came to check it out," the plump Mary explained.

"Go tell them everything's fine," Britney instructed.

"Got it!" Mary left, and the two of them went to the surveillance room and turned on the monitor. They saw Mary leading the two officers out of the villa.

Once they left, a swarm of reporters surrounded them, eagerly asking questions.

The police said a few words, wiped away some tomato sauce, and drove off.

Soon, the reporters left too, and peace returned to the villa entrance.

"Feel better now?" Britney smiled.

Roca shook his head. "This will definitely make the news tomorrow. The headline will be something like, 'Blood Stains Found Outside Britney's Villa—Possible Murder Scene!'"

"This is showbiz. What's wrong with a little extra news?" Britney said nonchalantly.

"The celebrity effect can be overwhelming. You should let your publicist know, just in case. Better to stay ahead of the story," Roca suggested.

"Alright, I'll listen to you," Britney said.

After making the call, she looked a bit upset.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"My manager yelled at me for goofing off. Now I have to practice an extra hour tomorrow," Britney pouted.

"You do goof off a lot."

"Jerk! It's your fault, and you're laughing at me?" Britney pounced on his back, hugging his head tightly.

"Haha, I'm sorry! Don't bite!" Roca laughed, carrying her back inside the villa. The day was ending, and it was time to rest.

(End of chapter)