Total Heartthrob || Chris McLean

Season 1: Not So Happy Campers: Part 1

"Shit! Sorry, Cake!" Cake, the twenty pound, 7 year old, orange and white tabby I had had since she a kitten, hissed at me after my foot crunched on her tail. I halted my run toward the balcony to chase her, give her an apology pat-pat-pat on the forehead, then continued my sprint. I needed to find my brother, direly. So direly, in fact, that it felt catastrophic; if I didn't speak to him soon, I would implode.

I knew he would be on the patio. He usually was. With the door cracked and smoke breezing by with the wind, it only confirmed my assumption. "Quinton!" I screeched as I threw the door open, causing him to jump and nearly drop his cigarette.

"Jesus, Lilia!" he snapped, catching his cigarette. His head whipped over to me as he wiped the cigarette ashes off his shirt. Faded blue hair with overgrown brown roots fell over his forehead, damp with sweat, and startled green eyes flared up at me. "What the fuck?!"

"Sorry!" I wasn't. "Quin, I need your help with something. Like, urgent. Life or death urgent." That was an exaggeration, and he knew. By the way he took another long drag of his cigarette, I could tell he knew. "Come on – okay, life or death was a bit of an exaggeration but this is important. Remember Chris McLean is hosting that new show? Total Drama Island?"

Of course he remembered. I hadn't shut up about it in the past month since Chris McLean announced it over Twitter. Not only did I love reality TV — how couldn't I love the romance? The drama? The tension! I ate that shut up like chicken friend rice — but I loved, even more than that, Chris McLean.

My celebrity crush ever since I saw him on his ice skating show a few years back. And when I say crush, I mean in love. Completely enamored by the man. Hooked on his very presence. Watching every movie and show he's stared in since, interviews over such topics. Quinton called me a freak or a stalker, saying my obsession was downright insane. Listen, I knew a girl — her name was Sierra — who had a full blown shrine dedicated to Chris McLean, and she's in jail now.

Needless to say, when Chris McLean announced he would be hosting a reality TV show, I freaked out. Majorly. Quinton gave me crazy eyes when I ran into the living room to tell — very loudly — him about the show. "Get this. It's a sign." I helped my phone up, my Instagram app hovering over an advertisement for the Total Drama Island application. A wide smile was plastered on my face.

Quinton, however, had the opposite expression. He squinted through his thin framed glasses, leaning in his white plastic chair, before he sat back with a disbelieving expression. "Don't tell me you fucking did."

"Oh. I did." I smiled mischievously. "I absolutely fucking did."

A heavy sigh escaped him, his hand coming up to wipe down his face to scratch the stubble on his jaw like a stressed father. Basically, he was. At 18, our asshole parents kicked him out, then he got custody over me once he got a job and it's been us two ever since. After moving around consistently for two years, him balancing work and school, we found a permanent apartment when he was twenty, just a little before my 12th birthday, and we figured it out from there. "I thought you were looking into college?"

"Sort of. Yes. But this is only 8 weeks, so I'll be back before school starts," I explained. Quinton seemed persistent on not accepting my words. "I just need help with an audition tape. Who knows, I might not even get on, but it'd be fun to try."

Another heavy sigh, another long drag from his cigarette. I smiled at him. He knew I wouldn't take no for an answer, especially with meeting Chris McLean being on the line. This was the most important decision of my life. That might've been an exaggeration, too, but I stand by it. Quinton looked at me, and I smiled wider. "Jesus, fuck, where did I go wrong in raising you?" he grumbled before pushing himself into a stance. His cigarette fell into the ashtray, a small billow of smoke emitting before fading into the wind.