“Emo … pop … rap?” Killian grips his forehead like it’s painful just to wrap his head around. And Iconcur. Jett is impossible to put in a box.
A few hours later and while many photographers have left, most of the twenty five have stayed and even invited their entourages to join us. Aformal sitting room has been transformed into a packed dance floor where neon lights and fog machines invade our senses. The cute ginger that asked Jett for a kiss is now spinning me around until I'm dizzy enough to nearly twist an ankle.
I rest a hand on the shoulder of Mikayla ‘Mickie’ Anders, begging for a short reprieve. Not only is she the daughter of Gemma, one of the biggest pop stars of the ‘90s, which means she can relate to me in ways basically nobody can. But also, she's dressed as my childhood idol, Daphne from Scooby Doo, and is eye level to me, even with those purple platforms on. Basically, she could be my new bestie … but Idon't wanna jinx it. She’s the same age as Jett and a complete prodigy in the world of fantasy novelists. She's telling me about her dragons and different types of fae when Jett appears out of nowhere, having ditched his silly hat and brown suit jacket. His hair is a fright and it makes me giggle. He grabs one of each of our hands and spins us around until we're on the other side of the dance floor.
He ducks down, close to my ear. “That greaser was gawking at your arse. Thought I'd be a gentleman and get ya some distance.”
I frown and turn my head, my stomach turning at the thought. Itry to catch Kill in the act but it’s too packed to see him. Mickie gives Jett a peck on the jawline and that thoroughly distracts me from my search. “Aw, so sweet, Jett! Defending her honor like that. Good thing, too, because Maddy was just telling me she doesn't wantanyguy getting in the way of her career. Isn't that responsible of her?”
Mickie winks at him and he nods, taking a sip of her cocktail as she tilts it towards his half open mouth in offering before turning his attention back to me. “You don't date actors, Mads?”
His hand skims over my hip briefly while we half dance, half talk. “No actors, noboys, period. Imade a rule, no dating till Iwin an Emmy.”
His brows furrow momentarily before some sort of light bulb pops on in his brain, looking back and forth between Mickie and me. “Oh! Iget it. So, you only shag birds, then?”
Mickie giggles and Ihuff. “Shag- no! Idon'tshaganyone, Jett! I'm not dating right now so Ican focus on my career. Don't you find all the drama … distracting?”
Jett releases a boisterous laugh. “Try listening to my album, Mads. If Iwas like, a celibate priest, I'd have fuck all to write songs about!”
Now I'm just plain annoyed Ididn't bother to stream it when Ifirst saw that article about him. Mickie runs over to request the DJ play one of Jett's songs, while Imake a mental note to have Leah play all of them for me on the way home. He leans into me and his whiskey scented whisper sends shivers across my skin.
“Wouldn't kill you to be a bad girl for once, Miss Morningstar.”
The traitorous goosebumps annoy me further so Iexplain them away, deciding it’s hot in here and his breath is just, cold from iced cocktails or something. Boys are off the table, and even if Iwas allowing myself to date, Jett is not and will never bemy type.
Shut up, stupid, obviously confused nervous system! You don’t date so you don’t need a type and if you did, it would clearly be Chad Michael Murray!
I roll my eyes at him again, but his stay stuck on me. Sparkling and full of trouble, the kind Iwant absolutely nothing to do with. “Wouldn't kill you to be good for once, either,Jett.”
Chapter 3
Maddy
A week later, I’m in a makeup chair in an all-white walled and high-ceilinged, lofty warehouse-style building where our Seventeen photoshoot and interviews are happening. Endorphins buzz through my veins thinking how much this25 under 25thing is going to help put my name on the map for something other than being Maxwell Morningstar’s daughter. I’m getting blush applied when a red vine whizzes through the air and hits me in the head.
“Jett!” Ishout without needing to look, but Ilook anyway, that bugger is getting his cute little nose powdered. His crazy orange hair is gone, replaced with a prettier, deep blue. His roots are still my exact shade ofpractically black. He sticks his tongue out at me and yep, tongue stud.Ouch! This boy is mad.He lights a cigarette and his stylist immediately puts it out.
“I’m bored! Entertain me,Miss Serious Actress!”
My stylist comes at me with a hot curling iron. “You want me to throwthisat your head next?”
“Yes! Please! Anything to get me out of this bloody chair!”
“Can someone stick an Adderall in Jett’s mouth, please? For the sake of my sanity!”
The room chuckles, and next a wine gum goes flying. Itbarely misses my head.Hey! Iwould’ve eaten that!
“That shit stifles my creativity!” The way that word sounds in his accent makes me snort. Ithink Jett is allergic to the sound the letter T makes.
I’m whisked away to get dressed and come back to the big mirror to check for mascara specs, but Iend up with a jump scare. Jett’s behind me, “Boo!”He squeezes my hips playfully, in the most ticklish way possible, and Iwhip around to face him.
I don’t ask the obviouswhy you are touching mebecause Idon’t mind it; Icome from an affectionate family. Butwhat the fuck is he wearing?
“Jett, why the hell are we matching?”
He laughs, “Mads, Iswear, you are so myopic, this obsession you have with me. It’s like you don’t see anyone else in the room. Look around you!”
Jett spreads his arms wide, and Iplan to smack him, but Ipeek around the corner and he follows me. Isee the twenty-three others dressed the same as Jett and me: white ribbed tank top, baby blue distressed jeans, gold chain, and bare feet.
