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“Friend. I’m joining your secret rendezvous in the great state of PA.”
I smile. “We’ll dance in the corner.”
“To Def Leppard.”
“And drink all the green shots.”
“Onlythe green ones,” he emphasizes.
“Right off my belly button.”
He lets out a wanting breath. “Girl, hit me up already.”
We’re both grinning, but my heart pangs. “Why does that sound like fan fiction?”
“Because we’d both write it.”Isn’t that the truth.“Yours would be better written though,” he adds. “I’d read the fuck out of it too.”
“You think we’ll ever get to live it?”
He canvasses me, up-down. “You losing hope?”
It’s been one of the longest weeks of my life. I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this for months on end. “Maybe just a morsel.”
He nods, understanding.
“But I’m trying to stay hopeful,” I add now, wanting him to know that I’m not giving up that easily. I won’t.
His chest lifts, and we go to the register together.
“You can put your stuff up there with mine,” he says, digging out his wallet. His eyes signal for me to please let him, and I’ve started realizing buying me food means something to Donnelly, so I go ahead and combine my snacks with his. He adds a couple packs of cigarettes to the pile.
The cashier eagle-eyes me, and I catch sight of the nearestCelebrity Crushtabloid. The headline:Who’s the Baby Daddy?!
It’s a picture of Sullivan coming out of Lucky’s Diner with Banks and Akara. They’ve circled her barely noticeable baby bump and drawn an arrow with the word,Preggers!
Sulli hasn’t announced her pregnancy or marriage yet, but the tabloids are rampant with speculations, especially since the three of them wear braided strings on their ring fingers.
“Hun,” the cashier says, smacking gum. Nametag reads,Ash.“Is this yours?” Ash lifts the Four Loko.
“Nah, it’s mine,” Donnelly tells them before I can answer. He hands over his ID, saving me from the possibility of being declined.
“Thanks.” The cashier returns the ID, then scans the alcoholic drink. “Keep your heads up.” I follow Ash’s gaze to Boom Box loitering outside. “Some people feel important when they’re harassing others, but a lot of us can see who they really are.”
It’s nice to be reminded that Philly isn’t full of haters and bad paparazzi. There are people who genuinely wish us well, seeing that we’re human too.
After I thank Ash, I hook one plastic bag on my elbow and Donnelly carries the other. He pushes open the door.
Boom Box swarms us, but I tune out their questions.
Theclick, clickof the camera burns my cheeks. It’s obvious they’re capturing pics of me and Donnelly together. Two minutes pass, and I’m safely inside the car. Donnelly is putting away the pump and screwing the gas cap, still on anignoresetting with Boom Box. I release a bigger exhale once we’re on the road.
“You think tabloids will post about me and you?” I wonder.
“They might.” His voice sounds tight. “Your dad is gonna fucking kill me.”
“No, he won’t,” I assure. “I’ll tell him it won’t happen again.” I don’t say why, but the answer is clear: we won’t go out in public together anymore. My stomach is in knots at this idea, but I can’t let Donnelly’s fake feud with my dad become real again.
His eyes flicker over to me while he drives, tension escalating like the ascension of magma in a volcano. He’s about to speak, but his hand flies to his mic at his collar. “What was that?” He pauses and mumbles, “Ard.” He lets go of the mic, and as soon as he can, he does a U-turn.
