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I hate feeling like this. Cranky and unsettled and more than anything... disappointed. Those three feelings swirl within me, growing bigger and bigger, until I finally give up trying to lie in bed and indulge in my weekend-morning routine, which is scrolling my favorite gossip sites. I can’t enjoy it. Especially when I’m actively involved in one of the top featured headlines.
What’s happening to me is so big, so completely unexpected, I’m just...
I don’t know what to do.
By the time I’m walking into the breakfast nook connected to our kitchen, I’m desperate. Ready to ask for any sort of advice on how to navigate this unfamiliar situation. My parents—my father—will have something to say. He’s been through this sort of thing before. I’m sure he’ll know what to do.
I come to a stop in the vast open doorway and stare at my parents sitting at the table, their heads simultaneously swiveling in my direction.
“Good morning, darling! Want some coffee?” Mom smiles at me, always cheerful, appearing ready to spring out of her seat and take care of me like I’m still a little girl.
The temptation to run into her arms and let her protect me is strong, but I hold myself back. I’m a grown woman of eighteen now. Officially an adult.
I can handle this.
Right?
I put on a brave smile, hating how false it feels on my face. “I’ll grab it, thank you.”
My mother’s gaze trails after me as I go to the coffee bar and make myself a cup, carrying the mug with me to the table and settling in across from my parents. My dad has his head buried in the newspaper, while Mom watches me expectantly.
“Did you sleep well?” she asks when I remain silent too long for her liking.
A shrug of one shoulder is my answer. I don’t know how to broach this. Do they know what the media is saying? Have they seen the fallout from last night?
I’m mortified. Vaguely humiliated but also... excited? Is that the right feeling to have after being caught kissing a celebrity?
My mother continues with her questioning.
“Have you spoken with Ian this morning?”
Scowling at the thought of Ian, I shake my head. “I didn’t even get a chance to talk to him much last night. He left my party early.”
A crease appears between my mother’s eyebrows, her sign that she’s distressed. “Oh dear.”
“Oh dear, what?” I take another sip of coffee and tell myself to calm down. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal to kiss Tate in front of a photographer. Who cares about us anyway?
Apparently there’s not much going on in the world, because it feels like everyone freaking cares. So many articles and posts about how great Tate Ramsey sounded. How healthy he looked. How amazing his performance was, and where has he been anyway? When did he get so sexy?
And speaking of sexy, our innocent kissing moment has caused quite the... scandal?
It wasn’t just a single photo taken by that lingering photographer, either, but all kinds of photos of us locked in an embrace, plus videos. None of them catch me making the first move, thank goodness, but we definitely look... into each other. I look as if I’m enjoying that kiss.
He seemed to be enjoying it too. He held me close, his fingers drifting across my back. I clung to him as if I might float away if I didn’t.
There’s no denying I look really into it. I’m the one who kissed him, after all, so this isn’t surprising.
There are even reaction videos to our kiss. Women picking apart our body language and acting like I’m the luckiest girl alive, kissing Tate Ramsey like that. All the comments on those particular posts, I can’t figure out if they’re supportive or rude.
Get it gurl.
OMG I DIE FOR HIM. FOR HER. FOR THEM.
She’s so lucky, ugh I wish I was her.
Who the f* is she?
Her dress! Look at how he’s touching her. *heart eyes*
