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Rome grabbed my hand, pulling me to a stop. “Wait, this isn’t the same Molly you’re living with now, is it?”
“The one and the same. We’ve been best friends since fourth grade.”
“You guys didn’t have a blow up when she started dating your crush?”
I shrugged uncomfortably. “She wasn’t going to, at first. We agreed that no boy was worth our friendship. But then she confessed she’d always liked him too. She had a chance with him, and I didn’t want to lose my best friend over who liked a boy first. That’s stupid.”
“That’s pretty awesome. Of you.” Rome brushed a few strands of hair off my face, and I caught my breath. He looked so intently serious.
It was one of those moments that felt suspended in time. I didn’t want to break it. And I didn’t want to think it was something that it wasn’t. But he was cupping my cheek in his hand. His achingly beautiful face was hovering so close to me I could feel his breath on my lips. And he was looking at me like I was…special. We’d both been so authentically open with each other. This wasn’t pretend. But I didn’t know what he was thinking now. He was so intense and focused on me like he was going to—
“Sophia, I—”
“Oh my god!” A woman squealed behind me. “Is that Roman Grier?”
Rome closed his eyes and sighed before dropping his hand and stepping away.
I turned and found three women about my age standing there beaming and holding their phones up. Pointed at us. Actively recording us.
Was I ever going to get used to this?
I tried to smile as Rome stepped over and did his humble actor thing. All the women squealed and talked a mile a minute. Rome accepted a few selfie requests and smiled as they took pictures. They all looked at him like I was sure I had just a few minutes ago—like he was so freaking special.
He was America’s Boyfriend after all.
And I was the pretend girlfriend. I had to stop forgetting that part.
“And is this her?” One of the women shrieked.
I blinked back into the present and the crowd of women suddenly around me. Tossing Rome a panicked look, I shook my head. I didn’t know what to do—what to say. This wasn’t my reality. They were supposed to squeal over him, not me.
“The very one.” Rome stepped up to my side and wrapped an arm around me. “Ladies, this is Sophia.”
They all shrieked again as Rome beamed down at me.
I felt like I’d fallen into an alternate universe. Why were they looking at me when he was standing right there? What was going on?
“Oh, they look so in love.” One woman cried.
Like legit cried. Tears and everything.
“Um, it’s nice to meet you all.” I looked from our adoring crowd to Rome. “But we should get going before Pongo gets adopted by a new family.”
“Right.” Rome beamed down at me then turned to his audience. “As she said, it was nice to meet you all.” He grabbed my hand and deftly pulled me through the crowd that had formed as we headed up the path.
My hand felt sweaty in his grasp, and I was sure it had everything to do with me and my discomfort. Or lack of exercise. But anyway, I was the sweaty one. Not him. And it was mortifying.
As soon as it was acceptable, I pulled my hand out of his and made a show of cupping my hands around my mouth to yell at the dog.
“Pongo!” I shouted as the Dalmatian darted out of sight up the path. “Come on back, boy. Pongo! Come!”
Pongo bounded back down the hill toward us, all happy and joyful and totally the opposite of how I was feeling inside.
“Yes!” Rome hissed as he grabbed my hand again and pulled me back to his side. “That was everything I knew it could be. I freaking love it when a plan comes together.”
The plan. Right. Because that was all this was. A plan to distract the public and the media away from Kingston’s pain.
His other hand came up and cupped my cheek. He grinned down at me while brushing his thumb against my face and whispered, “Are they still looking?”
