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I offer her a small smile, then she looks away again.
“Besides, it’s not all bad,” she continues. “I run two support groups down at the town center, did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t, actually.”
Leah looks happy with herself. “When I figured out how to get my PTSD under control, if I evendohave it under control, all I knew was that I wanted to help other people. I want to make sure that nobody feels the way I did. It may not always work, but there are generally a good amount of days where I feel like I’ve made an actual difference in people’s lives.”
I’m impressed. “That’s amazing. Seriously, good for you.”
To my astonishment, Leah gets a shadow of a smile across her face.
Derek may have messed her up, but from what I can tell about her, there’s no way Leah is completely ruined, despite what she may think.
14
GISELLE
Iimagine having a boyfriend is a lot more fun when you actually like boys.
Going out in public with Steve, holding his hand, and acting all lovey-dovey around him—it makes me want to run back inside and hurl into my toilet.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” Steve says happily beside me.
We’re out and about in public, for the first time, letting the whole world see our relationship status. We are together. Steve is my boyfriend, and I am his girlfriend. Despite my previous rejection, somehow Steve still got a hold of me. And now, here I am.
I look up and give his face a fake smile, hating his stupid bright blonde hair, hating his stupid pretty blue eyes, and hating the way his eyebrows are so low on his forehead that they are nearly covering his eyes and making him look permanently pissed off.
Oh, and his ears stick out really far, too.
“Me, neither,darling,” I say to him. Then I try really hard not to roll my eyes in case the paparazzi get a picture of it. I would hate for there to be a headline, “Trouble in Paradise? Giselle Cosgrove Seems to Want to Spend More Time with Eliza Leon than Her Own Boyfriend.”
Because if that happens, I’m pretty sure I might die.
We are walking around the neighborhood outside of my apartment, one of the not-as-nice places around LA. My apartment building itself is nice; it’s newly renovated and was one of the only locations where I could financially afford the penthouse. But it isn’t the best place for walking around.
Steve gives my hand a squeeze. “So, what are you doing for Christmas? Have you decided?”
“I’m going home,” I say quickly, hoping he drops it.
“We’regoing home, you mean.”
I shake my head at him. “Absolutely not, Steve. There’s no way I’m taking you to meet my parents.”
I told Eliza I was going to bring him home, but it was only to make her jealous! I don’t actually want to!
Steve lets go of my hand and stops walking. My stomach dipping, I turn around to face him.
“I really want to make this work, Giselle,” he tells me. “I know you want to make it work, too. Or else you wouldn’t be here right now. Right?”
I chew the inside of my cheeks so hard that I think I might actually taste blood.
I look around to see if anybody can see us. But those who are around us don’t seem to know who we are.
“I’ll let them see that we’re having a fight,” Steve says to me. “I’ll even give an interviewpersonally.”
I walk back over to him and throw my arms around his neck, my heart racing. Then I give him a hug and kiss him on the cheek. “Okay, okay. Of course,you can come home with me for Christmas.”
He resumes holding my hand and walking down the street with me. Just like that, he’s back to smiling happily like he’s the luckiest guy in the world. He keeps shooting me wide eyes like he’s in love with me or something. It will make for great photos.
