I raised my right hand to the door, my white knuckles quivering only inches away from its daunting surface. Would she actually invite me in if I just knocked? Could it be that easy? No, of course it couldn't. The sheer fact that I was here was enough to get me arrested...it would only be a matter of time before someone figured out that I swiped the backstage pass from a lethargic crew member. If I knocked on that door, Selena would open it, take one look at me and--

*Chk-chk, creeeeaakk...*

The sound of a door opening echoed down the hallway, simultaneously causing my stomach to twist and my heart to leap into my throat. Without hesitation, I bolted in the opposite direction, frantically searching for a place to hide. I hung around the corner of the hallway, nearly skidding into the back wall...faced with nothing but another corridor of drab wooden doors and a lone, half-full laundry cart that someone had apparently forgotten about. I was stuck. Any room I chose to duck into would surely be occupied with studio personnel, and I was not about to get caught now that I had abandoned my mission entirely.

*Click, clock, click, clock, click...*

Panic had rendered me motionless. The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder and louder...I only had a few seconds left to make a decision. Grabbing an armload of dirty linens from the laundry cart, I stepped in and curled myself inside of it, piling the dirty linens on as a disguise. I knelt still and silent in the cart, hearing the footsteps turn the corner, and hoped they would simply walk on by. To my dismay, the sound ceased about two feet away from the cart.

"Ugh, again?" I heard a male voice groan, "I've told her a million times not to leave her dirty laundry out in the hallway! So unsanitary..."

All of a sudden, I felt the cart begin to lurch forward as the man advanced to push it out of sight. My breathing became short. What was I gonna do? The guy was bound to find me when he emptied the cart of dirty laundry, and I knew there was no chance he’d leave it unattended anywhere for me to escape.

"Good *erg* grief…" the man grunted as he pushed, "What are that girl’s clothes made of, concrete?"

It was hopeless. One way or another, my attempts to leave the studio unscathed would soon be thwarted. Forget the fact that I never got a chance to meet Selena. Sweet, sultry Selena…what a sight to behold she was tonight. I was so entranced with her performance that I barely made any effort to laugh along with the rest of the studio audience. All I could think about was how wonderful it would be if I could just talk to her…to be graced with her - dare I say it - magical presence. I clenched my fists in frustration. Why didn’t I just knock on that damn door? So what if she had called security on me? At least I would have seen her face-to-face for once in my miserable life…and, at that distance, possibly caught a whiff of her lovely perfume. Hell, at this point I would settle for the aroma of her suede fringe boots after a long night of recording…

*Ca-thunk!*

My thoughts of Selena Gomez’s foot odor were interrupted by a door slamming shut, when I noticed that the cart had stopped moving. Had the man left me alone? I listened carefully for any sound of movement, but whatever room I was in was completely silent except for a strange mechanical whirring sound, the source of which I could not readily identify. This could be my only chance to escape…if anyone else was in the room, at least I could try and flee from them. I poked my head slowly out of the cart, examining my surroundings. I was in a large, sky-blue room, the walls lined with washing machines and dryers, and a long wooden bench that ran down the middle of the room. Of course, I thought, shaking my head and chuckling softly, he brought me to the laundry room. With a refreshing sense of security, I began to climb out of the cart…when my leg, entangled in a mess of dirty clothes, caused me to lose balance and fall forward, bringing the entire cart crashing down to the floor.

"Unnh, son of a…" I groaned, pushing myself up off of the cold tile. I knew what a dumb mistake I had just made…the noise of the cart falling down would almost certainly draw attention to my current location. I had to get out. Haphazardly tossing the dirty clothes back into the cart, I lifted it to stand upright again, and froze when I saw what was written in giant letters across the front…

SELENA GOMEZ