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“Dad, come on . . .”
When the tense set of his jaw didn’t budge, I glanced at Mom, looking for help. “Mom . . .?”
Sighing, she avoided my gaze. “I’m afraid he’s right. We can’t just let you break the rules.”
I threw my hands up in the air like I couldn’t believe it, though in all honesty, the punishment was probably appropriate. “How long?” I asked.
“Two weeks.” Dad glanced at Mom, and she nodded.
Well crap. Not sure that will help my newly formed couple’s status with Thorne.
“Can we make it like . . . two days, instead?” I asked, wrinkling my nose in the hopes they might consider it.
“No,” Dad said, tone firm.
I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest.
“I’m not so sure you should continue seeing him at all. Like I said, I think he’s trouble, and it would be best to just forget about him.”
Uh, yeah. That can’t happen.
“Well, let’s not be hasty,” Mom jumped in, and all I thought was,Thank God for Mom.“I mean, it’s Thorne Roberts,” she added with barely restrained enthusiasm.
“I don’t care if it’s Gandhi. He’s from another world, another life. He’s used to Hollywood and all that entails.” Dad shook his head like he made up his mind. “He’s trouble. And he’s famous. Famous people expect to get everything they want when they want it,” Dad said, giving me a knowing look, and I wanted to gag. “Just look at tonight. One date, that weknowof,” Dad said like I’d been sneaking off with him for ages, “and he already took her to his hotel.”
“Dad, really—”
“Maybe Dad’s right,” Mom said in a resigned tone. “Besides, we had a meeting with those new lawyers today, and they’re very optimistic. They think we can win this by a landslide. So,” she said, twisting her hands in her lap like it pained her too much to say it, “maybe being in the headlines right now isn’t the best idea.”
“Thank you,” Dad said.
Panic prickled up my spine. If Thorne and I didn’t make headlines, there were no lawyers. “Listen, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll work at the bakery every day for the next month. But I can’t stop seeing Thorne. I won’t.”
Dad’s eyes rounded in surprise. I’d never refused a direct order before, never given them a hard time. “You’ll do what I say—”
“Please, Dad?” I asked, my tone soft.
He sighed. “Give me one good reason I should allow you to see him again?”
“Because”—I shrugged, mustering courage—“I like him. A lot,” I said, hating the lie. Another first.
Dad’s brown eyes softened, so I added, “After filming, he’ll be leaving for LA again. Don’t make me say goodbye. Not yet.”
The moment I walked into school, my peers bombarded me.
People I’d never spoken to before. Kids I’d never seen before. Old friends, teachers, and enemies alike. Some mentioned seeing me on social media with Thorne. Others saw the Entertainment Tonight feature. And a select few acted as though they hadn’t heard a word about Thorne and me. That it was some cosmic coincidence they chose the morning after he broadcasted our relationship all over social media and entertainment news outlets to speak with me for the first time.
So by the time I broke through the throng of butt-kissers, twenty minutes had already passed. Annoyed, I hurried to Penelope’s locker, getting there at the exact moment I accidentally made eye contact with Gabby.
Crap.
“Save me.” I ducked my head inside P’s open locker. With any luck, I’d turn into a chameleon and blend in. Or she’d take a hint. But the latter seemed unlikely.
“What—” Penelope started.
“Hey, girl!” Gabby’s voice rang out like a shot, and I squeezed my eyes closed.
“Please tell me she’s not coming over here,” I muttered.
