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“Maybe.” I bent down and brushed a kiss over her forehead, then turned us toward the windows with my arm slung over her shoulders. A hundred or more of our peers stared back at us. “Now, smile, and act like you like me.”
Chapter 9
SCARLETT
AfterImanagedtoextricate myself from Thorne’s side, I found Penelope at her locker. One glance at the clock and I cursed the time. We had only two minutes left until the warning bell.
“Hey, where’d you go?” I asked her.
P closed her locker and adjusted her bookbag on her back while she beamed at me. “You seemed a little preoccupied, butoh my gosh, please tell me you’re going on another date with him?”
“Let’s walk,” I said, motioning to the clock as P stepped in line beside me and we headed down the hallway.
I inhaled, thinking of what I wanted to say and ignoring the way my insides felt like lead at the prospect of lying to her. But what choice did I have? I only prayed she wouldn’t be angry with me once this was all over and I told her the truth. Certainly, she’d understand. Right?
I chewed on my lip as guilt roiled inside my gut. “Actually, Iamgoing out with him again,” I said.
“Wait”—she stopped dead in her tracks—“what?” She let out a high-pitched squeal and launched herself into my arms. “Oh my gosh,” she said, jumping up and down. “My best friend in the whole-wide-world is dating Thorne Roberts. Kill me now.”
“Would you stop,” I hissed. “Everyone’s staring.”
Holy crap. I knew she’d be excited, but . . .
“I knew it,” she continued. “When he asked you out Saturday night, I could tell it was because he liked you. Lord knows why. You were kind of rude.”
“Iwas rude?” I pointed to my chest. “He was acting like an entitled . . .” I trailed off. Calling him a name didn’t exactly sell our story. “Anyway . . .” I said, forcing down my animosity.
“You realize what this means, right?” Penelope asked, hooking her arm in mine. She started walking again, practically skipping down the hall. “You’re gonna be famous. I mean, look at your Insta already. It’s blowing up, and it’s only been a little over twenty-four hours.”
She was right, and I should be happy about it, but worry needled my thoughts.
“Do you think I made a mistake?” I asked, eyeing her from the side. “I mean, by going out with him? Should I have said no to a second date?”
“What? No. This is amazing. Why on earth would you even ask me that?”
“Well, because . . . it’s a lot, isn’t it? Dating someone so famous. I don’t even know what to expect. And I’m not used to having the spotlight on me. What if it’s awful? What if I lose all privacy? Or it changes things. Or—”
“Of course it’s going to change things, Scar. But in a good way. Look,” she placed her hands on my shoulders, “you need to relax. It’ll be fine. More followers means more eyes on your designs and your style posts, right?”
“Yeah, sure.” I breathed.
“Then that’s a good thing. Even if you end up with a broken heart, at the very least, this will garner you some positive attention, maybe even some connections in the fashion world. So what have you got to lose?”
I could think of a few things. My integrity, pride, and privacy, to name a few. But I just nodded.
Penelope nudged me in the arm. “Hey, what gives? You never worry like this?”
I sighed and raked a hand through my long hair and glanced at the classroom up ahead, the one I was headed to. “What if it makes things worse with the lawsuit? What if Cranky Pants sees and gets it in her head that since I’m dating some big celebrity, I have scads of cash lying around, and she takes every last dime?”
“Or, she doesn’t want the negative press associated with the lawsuit and the potential of it going public and drops it. There are a million ways this could go.”
I mulled over what she said, and I supposed she had a point. And besides, my parents were getting one of the best legal teams in the country out of the deal. It had to be worth it, right?
“Gah, when did you become so half-glass-full?” I asked. Usually, I was the one reassuringher.
P grinned, her eyes ablaze—it was the same look she always got when talking about Topher, and I knew what she’d say before she said it.
“Since Topher,” we said in unison, and I laughed.
