Julia sat up quickly and looked at the clock. Almost 8! She'd almost missed it! She quickly shoved her bookmark into her book to mark her place, tossed the book aside and rushed out to the living room.

Her little brother was still watching his show, so she sat on the couch, her eyes closed, until she heard the annoying music of the show's closing credits. Her eyes snapped open and she got up.

"Okay, my turn. Move please," she said while reaching for the remote.

"No way spaz," her brother replied. "I want to watch something else."

"Oh no, you don't! The rule is that we each get the TV for our own show. Come on, move!" she cried, pushing him.

"Daniel, move, it's your sister's turn," her father's voice called out.

Grumbling, her brother relinquished the remote. Julia deftly switched the station, grabbed a pillow, and plopped down in front of the TV. And then, there he was. Nicholas Pruitt, the man of her dreams. Well, her dreams and every other red-blooded teenaged girl's.

As she watched the show she marveled at how at ease he always seemed. He was incredible. "And incredibly hot," she thought with a wry smile.

Too soon though, the show was over until next week. She got up, tossing the remote to Daniel, and headed back to her room. Flopping down on her bed, she turned over to gaze at the posters of Nicholas that she'd hung up. They were all a bit cheesy, being from the magazines and all, but she didn't care.

As she started to space out, wondering what it must be like to be him or to even be around him, she was brought back by a feeling of light-headedness. The tell tale sign that let her know that her grandmother was coming to visit.

Her grandmother had passed away when Julia was just seven, but Julia remembered her fondly. Her grandmother had always believed in the supernatural, the spiritual, the occult. She'd imparted these beliefs to Julia as well, and had taught the little girl all she could, so that Julia would be ready, and able, to accept her when visited from the other side. Julia believed everything that her beloved grandmother told her, and so, when the time came and her grandmother first came to her in a dream, she wasn't afraid.

Her parents, of course, hadn't believed her, until she began relating the details of her father's childhood home right down to the furniture and its exact placement. It was a home she'd never seen and that no longer existed. After that, they no longer questioned her.

Julia got up and changed into her night clothes. Crawling into bed, she looked over at her posters one last time.

"Goodnight Nicholas," she said, switching off the lamp.

The fuzzy headed feeling began to take her over, and as she closed her eyes, she saw her.

"Hello grandma," she said.

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"Nicholas! Hello? Are you in there?" the older man called out.

The young man snapped back to attention. "Huh? What? Yes, sorry, I'm here."

The older man laughed and shook his head. As a cast mate of Nicholas' he felt drawn to the boy, in a watchful guardian sort of way. This kid was something else. "Where were you this time?"

"I, uh, I don't know. I was watching the girl again," he replied.

"Really," said the older man, intrigued. "You seem to watch her a lot. Anyone you know?"

"No, but I wish I did, she seems nice," he said with a sigh, but then he angrily shook his head. "Besides, I don't think she exists, I think she's all in my head. Maybe just a vision of a person I wish existed because she's not like the girls who come around here to watch and take pictures."

Nicholas reached for his bag and pulled out a candy bar. He'd unwrapped it and was about to take a bite when it was snatched out his hand.

"Hey! That's mine!" He yelled, giving a furious look to the older man.

"So? You ought to concentrate more on learning those lines than eating another candy bar."

"Fine," Nicholas spat. "But you owe me a candy bar."

The older man laughed. "Let me tell you something kid, in relation to your mystery girl. She could very well be a figment of your imagination, like you say. But you never know, you could be catching glimpses of someone else's life. Stranger things have happened, and any thing is possible!"

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Julia pulled the tape gun across the last of her boxes. She'd made it; she'd finally graduated from college. But to do what, work in an office? She'd spent $80,000 on an education for that? She couldn't hide her frustration.

She sighed and picked up her bag. Scooping her journal off the floor, she opened it and looked at the picture of Nicholas that was tucked away inside. She felt a little foolish; she was 22 years old and still kept a picture of her favorite actor. She'd not forgotten Nicholas in all of this time, this picture was recent. She smiled at the thought of him. He'd grown from a beautiful boy into a stunning man. His recent movies had been very good, though a little off the beaten path.

She heard a knock on her door. She shut her journal quickly and stuffed it inside her bag. Time to go and face the world as something she hadn't the foggiest idea how to be: an adult.

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Nicholas walked in the door and tossed his keys onto the table. He walked across to the refrigerator and grabbed one of the bottles of Starbucks Mocha Frappuccino he kept for these occasions.

He walked into the living room and dropped into a chair, exhausted. A long day of auditions had him beat. It was hard work, and he'd challenge anyone who thought otherwise to try it for a day. He opened the bottle and took a swig. With a big sigh, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the relative peace and quiet of his apartment.

It was nice to be out on his own. His original popularity had, of course, died down, but he was still recognized when he went out. For the most part though, he was enjoying just being normal. Well, as close to normal as he could get anyway.

The phone rang. He ignored it. Some of the guys probably wanted to go out tonight and he didn't really feel like it. He wanted to just hang out alone and do a little writing. Then he saw her. Julia. His "mystery girl." He'd never stopped thinking of her and flashes of her life came to him at moments like these. He imagined that what he saw was flashes of the life she'd be leading were she real. It was in one of these flashes, years ago now, that he'd heard her name. He'd incorporated her into the script he was writing now. In fact, she was in just about every piece of writing he'd done, in some form or other.

At 25, he felt more than a little childish in having an imaginary friend, but she calmed him like no one else could. She calmed him with her soft voice when she was reading Shakespeare or poetry (he loved it when she did that), or the way her eyes always lit up when she saw something she liked or someone she knew. He was always going a million miles an hour and Julia, had she existed, could have stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Good evening Julia," he whispered. "How are we this fine evening?"

She looked lovely. She was dressed to go somewhere formal. Her cream colored dress was beautiful. Then something quite unexpected happened. A man, dressed in a tux, came up beside her and took her arm. Nicholas sat up like a shot.

"What the hell? Where'd he come from," he puzzled, as the last strains of her voice came to his ears.

"You look great, Ryan."