Too much shine. Paris dabs the center of her bottom lip. Turns her head from left to right. Leans in. Angles her chin up. Better, but uneven. Smoothes shine across the offending lip. Dabs again.

Nick's face appears in the mirror next to hers. "We're just going to the store," he says.

She rubs her gloss-sticky finger across his lips and grabs her keys. She's out the door before he can even wipe his mouth.

When they climb out of her convertible, there's already a photographer. She grabs his arm and smiles kittenishly at him. He grins back and puts his arm around her waist, pulling her close. Nick whispers in her ear, "I love you."

A flash goes off and they both grin.

She spots Nic Cage sitting with Lisa Ling. Hates that bitch. She sees a photographer watching Nic and Lisa. Tugs at her skirt. Makes sure her belly's showing. Cocks her head to the side. Swishes over.

Lisa looks up. Smiles tightly.

"Nic!" Paris exclaims. Bends down. Touches his arm. Smiles coyly. "You're looking very sexy tonight."

Nic grins. Lisa coughs once. Paris ignores her. Nic pats the seat on the other side of him. Paris sits down. Drapes her legs across him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Nick storm out of the room, Nicky trailing after him. Paris swallows once and thinks about calling out to him, telling him to wait. A flash goes off and she smiles demurely, hopes Nicky can read her mind.

She puts her hand on Nic's thigh. Leans in. Whispers in his ear. He laughs. She leans back. Giggles.

A flash goes off.

Later, Nick's still pissed and doesn't want to spend the night. Her makeup is wearing off and she feels tired.

"I was just having fun," she says, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting.

Nick scowls. "Plus," she adds, reaching out to touch his arm, "It'll totally be a story in Us Weekly."

"I don't want to be a story in Us Weekly," he snaps.

Paris pushes him to the bed and breathes into his ear, "Yes, you do."

Nick pushes her off him. "No. I don't."

"Damnit!" she yells, throwing her shoe against the wall. Nick jumps up in shock as she shouts, "What the fuck is your problem?"

She's going to cry. She hates that. Puts her fingers under her eyes. Tries to wipe off her mascara delicately. Get it before it starts to streak. Looks up at the light. Blinks twice. Three times. Shakes her head. Breathes deeply.

Nick sits back down and touches her hair. "I don't want to be just another story for you, ok?"

Her tears spill over and she leans into him, whispering, "You're not."

He strokes her hair and says, "Ok."

A week later, it is a story in Us Weekly. A week after that, Page Six runs an item about their breakup. An unnamed source says that Nick felt like just another one of Paris' boytoys. The next day there's an item that she's devastated because she thought Nick was really the one. The next day there's an item that she was seen crying to pal Nicole Ritchie at an LA hot-spot over it. The next day there's an item that AJ consoled Nick, who is said to be brokenhearted, over a round of golf. The next Monday, there's an item that they've reconciled, that friends of Nick's made him think she was using him but he realized she was serious when she showed up at his house with a dozen roses and a tearful apology.

Paris pulls her hair back. Poofs out the front. Sprays once. Twice. Angles to see her profile. Sprays again. Leans up close. Smoothes a stray hair.

Nick's head appears in the mirror next to her. "We're just going to the store."

"It's our first in-public appearance since the breakup," she says, poofing her hair again.

Nick raises his eyebrows. "We weren't really broken up, just...taking a...break."

Paris smiles kittenishly at him, sprays in his direction, and swoops up her keys. She's out the door before he can even push down the spikes in his hair.

When they climb out of her convertible, there's already a photographer.