Nate expels a harsh breath and shoots me a disgusted look. “And you believed all his bullshit?”
“I didn’t see any reason not to.”
Either Dylan is the world’s greatest actor and con artist, which is admittedly possible, or he was telling the truth. There were too many raw emotions scrawled over his face that night he shared this with me. Dylan’s story was also full of detail, whereas Nate’s was more like piecing bits together and taking the word of Miranda’s stepdad, who clearly had it out for Dylan from the start.
Nate bites hard into his bottom lip. “This is gonna be a problem for me, Jade. A very big problem. In fact, if you’re going to be my girlfriend, then you’re going to have to stay away from that prick. And that is not a request. You want to be with me? You don’t talk to him anymore. End of story.”
I blink at Nate, my eyes running over his agitated face.
But Idon’twant to be with you. I wish I did because it would be…simple. Easy.
But sometimes simple and easy don’t cut it.
“Yeah, I think itisthe end of the story,” I say, feeling genuinely disappointed. “This isn’t working for me, Nate. I’m sorry.”
He flinches like I slapped him. “Are you serious? You’re ending this because of that fucking loser?”
Anger builds in my chest. “He’s not a fuckingloser.If you just try talking to him about this—”
“Oh, fuck off,” Nate snaps. “And fuck you, Jade.” He dumps his plastic plate onto the ground, sending remnants of whipped cream splattering across my tennis shoes before he storms off.
I watch him go with my mouth hanging open, registering that this is the first time in my life that I’ve ever been told to F-off. Talk about a milestone. It doesn’t feel great, so I twist back to the stage, my eyes burning. When I’ve composed myself, I brave another glance at Dylan and Ella, finding Hayley’s brother standing alone. He’s craning his neck, watching Ella with the group of children huddled in front of the stage. They’re laughing at one of the high school kids attempting to stack a tower of tin cans.
A war breaks out within me to either leave this shitshow of a talent contest or walk right up to Dylan and say hi. To be the one person in this town who doesn’t believe everything that’s said about him, and to give him the time of day.
He turns his head, and our gazes catch, my cheeks heating.Ugh, he caught me staring.
He looks past my shoulder like he’s wondering where Nate went. When our eyes find each other’s again, he gives me a half-smile that steals some of the breath from my chest. I smile back, and we take a step toward each other before a small, shapely woman brushes right past me and latches onto Dylan’s forearm.
“Dylan?” she says with a blindingly beautiful smile. Holy shit, that’s Sunny Gillespie.
Dylan shoots her that same sexy smirk he just gave me. A sharp feeling pinches my throat, and it presses harder when he reaches an arm around Sunny’s waist and pulls her in for a hug like they know each other.
I force my eyes to the stage, my mind whirring.That. Is. Sunny. Gillespie. Go and introduce yourself, Jade!
But the reporter’s still clinging to Dylan like a vine, now standing on her tiptoes and molding her body to his. His gaze flickers to mine over her shoulder, and I quickly look away.
My hands need something to do, so I pull out my phone to check if Ruby’s called. But of course she hasn’t because the reporter’s standing right in front of me, gripping Dylan’s arm and bringing it closer to her nose like she’s appreciating the artwork.
I pretend to type into my phone and listen hard so I can hear bits of their conversation.
“…Heard about your mom and dad…” Sunny says.
“…Rather not talk about it…”
“…Here to do a big feature on the town…”
“…Heard that. My sisters would love for us to have some involvement…”
“…Perfect, I’m looking for one local business to feature…” she says, and the earth falls out from under me.
No, no, no! The Kings don’t need the exposure. They don’t even have a booth at this festival—shecan’tpick them over us.
My fingers quiver as I slide my phone into my back pocket, contemplating whether I should just bound over there and crash Sunny and Dylan’s little reunion, even if that makes me look desperate.
A trio of giggling young women push past me, nearly knocking me on my butt. They make a beeline for Dylan, interrupting him with Sunny the way I should have. It takes me a second to place one of them as Cindi with an “i,” and I’m not sure who the other two are, but all three are looking at Dylan like they’re ready to devour him for dessert. Make that the four of them.
As I watch Dylan engulfed by beautiful women—those who either haven’t heard about or don’t care about his reputation—the message rings loud and clear.
