She placed her order, and then we grabbed a table.
“So, what’s new with you?” I asked.
She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “Spill.”
I glanced around before lowering my voice. “What if I told you I modeled for a life drawing class the other day, and he was the professor?”
“You did not,” she gasped. She leaned forward, pressing her palms to the table as she eyed me.
I nodded, still not quite sure I could believe it myself. “I did. It was one of Professor Tate’s classes, but Xander subbed in.”
“Xander, huh? You’re on a first-name—no, anickname—basis?”
“He’s seen me naked, B. I think I can call the man Xander,” I joked. “Everyone does.”
“Wow.” She leaned back in her chair. “You’re surprisingly chill about all this.”
I lifted a shoulder, sipping my chai latte. “What can I say? It was surprisingly empowering.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Interesting.”
She was silent a moment, but I could see the wheels turning. I cupped my mug with my hands, bracing myself for what she’d say next.
“Does this mean you’re finally going to tell your parents about dropping out of UCLA?”
“Whoa. Whoa.” I held up my hands. “Let’s not get crazy here.”
“Kate.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “How much longer are you going to try to keep up this double life? You’re not attending the school they expect. You’re not even living in the apartment they think you are. It’s going to catch up with you at some point.”
“I’m—” I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “I’m going to tell them.”
“You’ve been saying that all summer. The longer you lie, the harder it will be when you finally tell the truth.”
“I know. I know.” I hung my head.
I knew she was right, but how could she understand? Her parents were supportive of her graphic design career. Mine…mine were too focused on my father’s political aspirations to care much about anything other than their image.
“When are you going to send Cynthia Valentine your cover design?” I gave her a pointed look, needing to divert attention from my own cowardice.
Brie was studying to be a graphic designer, and she was a voracious reader of romance novels. She’d taken on some freelance design projects during school—mostly small jobs. But her dream was to design covers for romance novels and to have some of them end up on the best-seller lists.
She stared at the table as if the pattern of the wood grain were theMona Lisa. “Never.”
“B, if I can stand naked in front of a room full of classmates, you can send Cynthia Valentine an email with a cover design.” Never mind the fact that I couldn’t fess up to my parents, but I was working on it.
She shook her head quickly. “No. I can’t.”
“There’s nothing to lose. She’ll either open it or not. She’ll see it and pass on by, or maybe she’ll love it and respond.”
Brie snorted a laugh. “Yeah. Right.” But then she narrowed her eyes at me. “Nice attempt to distract me, but we’re not done talking about you and Xander. What’s up with you two?”
“Nothing.” I felt my cheeks heat, and I knew she knew I was lying. We’d been friends too long—she knew my tells.
“You know…” She tapped a finger to her lips, glancing toward the door then back at me. “He wouldn’t be a bad choice for your first.”
I stared at her, waiting for her to tell me she was joking. “He’s a professor. I’m a student.”
“He’s notyourprofessor, though. Is he?” She waggled her eyebrows.
