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I thought Liam might have still been at practice, but when he answered, my stomach dropped. Crap, I was going to leave a vague message to get myself off the hook… now I actually had to be honest.
"Hey babe, I'm just leaving the fields. What's up?" His voice was smooth and it almost erased all of my anger from Tara. But not quite.
"Hey. I think I'm going to call Tara and see if she wants to meet me for coffee or something..."
Silence hung on the phone line as I heard him fiddling with his keys and getting into his car.
"Why would you want to do that?"
I took a deep breath, collecting my thoughts into coherent sentences. "Because she's still out there leading a hate campaign against me and maybe if we meet up and talk, some of the things between us can be settled. She obviously didn't respond to my parents, but maybe I can figure out why she's doing this."
"For attention, Kinsley. She wants the limelight and you know it. She can't get there on her own, so she's dragging your name along with her."
I sighed. "Well I still think it could help."
He started his car before answering. "I'm not going to stop you, but I'd like you to go during the day and somewhere that will have a crowd."
"She's not a murderer, Liam."
"Maybe not, but she's certifiably insane, and I'd rather not have to worry about your safety," he sighed. "I still think this is bad idea..."
I paced across the floor of my room, thinking the plan through. "Okay. I promise to do that, and I'll keep you posted. Okay?"
"All right. Call me later. I wish you were going to be at my house when I got home."
I smiled against the phone screen. "I know, but Becca and I promised we'd spend some time together today. Tomorrow, I'm all yours," I promised.
"All right, love you. Good luck," he said before hanging up. My heart fluttered like it still did every time he said those words. I'd been counting. That was the tenth time he'd said it to me and it still didn't feel real.
The next phone call wouldn't be quite as easy. I scrolled through my contacts until I came to the "T's". Tara's name was first and I pressed send before giving myself time to back out. Each ring that passed seemed to last a lifetime, and I wondered if she'd actually pick up or not.
Then the phone clicked into the call.
"Kinsley Bryant." She dragged out my name like it was something disgusting stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
"Tara. Hi. Do you have a second to talk?"
She sighed with an exacerbated air. "Not really, but I'm already listening, so whatever."
Stay calm. Stay calm. "Okay, well I was actually calling to see if you would meet me for coffee tomorrow."
"Why the hell would I want to do that? You got me kicked off the ULA soccer team because you couldn't keep your slutty hormones under wraps."
All right. So she hadn’t had a personality transplant since we last spoke. Bummer.
"Tara, I think we both know that you want to meet with me as much as I need to meet with you. Think of the photos they'll take of the two of us. I'll even sit outside so they get a good one of your face."
I was being a bitch, but we both were at this point.
"You think you're such hot shit, Kinsley. I'll meet you tomorrow, but only because I want to see that dumb expression on your face one last time."
"Great. I'll let you pick the place. Let's meet around three." Then I hung up before she could protest.
Dumb expression? I paused for a moment, realizing what I'd just done to myself and instantly regretting it.
"Becca!" I called, and a second later I heard her footsteps in the hallway. When she pushed my door open I turned to face her with a solemn voice.
"I'm meeting with the devil tomorrow at 3."
Becca narrowed her eyes, nodded, and then stepped into my room. "Welp, I guess we better watch the rest of Game of Thrones tonight then just in case you get offed.”
…
Downtown LA was bustling the next day so I had to park quite a few streets away. The Coffee Shop Tara picked was mostly empty which made it easy to spot her bright blonde hair as soon as I stepped up to the outdoor seating.
I was joking about sitting outside so the paparazzi could photograph us, but apparently Tara couldn't pass up a golden opportunity like that. It made me all the more happy that Becca had helped me curl my glossy brown hair. We'd picked out a cotton dress that I paired with a light, summer scarf and my favorite pair of designer flats. For once, the paparazzi would snap photos of me when I didn't look like crap after practice.
