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Here’s the deal—I don’t want to be told what to do or how to do it. Guidance is okay, but I’ve been on social media for quite a while now. I know how to do this, probably just as well as or even better than anyone on their publicity and marketing team. My only concern is navigating this so-called relationship and making sure my posts and my portrayal of the two of us appear real instead of fake.
It blows my mind how my social media follower count is still growing like crazy. Our very public relationship is totally working. Tate informed me he’s already signed a contract just for “Red” and Irresistible is releasing it as an official single by the end of the week. Everyone loves it, and even I have to admit it’s a great song.
Even if he does sing about me giving him head. Something I’ve never done before in my life.
I’m sheltered, what can I say?
Being seen in public with Tate, kissing Tate. Photos from our conversation out on the city sidewalk started circulating on the web before I even made it back home. Tate sent me a text with the best photo out of all of them, accompanied by a simple, one-sentence message.
Tate: We look good together.
After staring at the photo for so long, I couldn’t help but agree with him.
I didn’t mention the photos to my parents, but I know they knew. The suspicious looks Mom has been sending my way ever since they came out tell me she’s dying to say something, but for whatever reason, she’s keeping quiet. So is my father.
Very unusual for the both of them.
Thankfully, both of my parents went out earlier, leaving me all alone. The moment they were gone, I was texting Rachel and basically begging her to come over. And like the good best friend that she is, she immediately showed up, her hair still damp from a shower and with no makeup on her pretty face.
If you know Rachel at all, you understand this is an unusual circumstance. She pretty much dropped everything and came right over.
“Is everything okay?” she asks as we head toward my bedroom.
“Yes,” I assure her, noting the sympathetic look she sends my way. I’m guessing from the urgency of my message and how quick she arrived, she probably thought I was devastated over this entire situation. My normal behavior is probably reassuring.
Deep down, I know I’m going to confess all to Rachel. I need to get this off my chest, and she’s been able to stay quiet. Sharing it with her will ease some of this tension bubbling up inside of me. It’s eating me up, and I’ve only held on to this secret for less than twenty-four hours.
I would never make a good poker player. Or liar. It’s just too hard.
“I’ll tell you everything when we get to my bedroom,” I suggest, and she increases her pace, which almost makes me laugh. I know she’s eager to hear what I have to say.
By the time we’re in my room and I have the door shut behind me, she’s practically hopping in place where she stands, she’s so amped up.
“Tell me what’s going on now,” she demands.
I clear my throat. “Give me a minute. I need to lead up to it first.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t send me a cryptic text and expect me to ask you how the weather is first.”
“It’s hot,” I say, trying to get under her skin. Also trying to extend this moment as I scramble to come up with the proper way to make my announcement. “Might have to skip going to the Hamptons in August, though.”
That last part is true, after I sign that agreement.
“Ugh. You’re so annoying when you have a secret.” She collapses on the edge of my bed, contemplating me with a scowl. “Justtellme already. Oh, wait, let me guess. That’s way more fun, because I can come up with some pretty wild theories. Did you finally have sex with Ian?”
“Absolutely not.” God, Ian. I should probably tell him that Tate and I are official, especially before it’s announced.
But how is that going to work? When will I ever get a chance? He hasn’t answered my texts lately. Meaning he’s probably avoiding me after that mini tantrum I had at dinner with his family, which is totally stupid on his part. No one could blame me for acting like that, thanks to his bitch of a mother.
He never even blinked an eyelash over her behavior. Never came to my defense once. Maybe Tate is right.
Ian Baldwin is a complete idiot.
“Okay, fine, so you had sex with Tate Ramsey then.” I’m about to shout out a resounding no, but her eyes narrow and her mouth keeps moving. “You’re lucky you reached out to me now. I saw the latest photo of the two of youkissingon the sidewalk, and my immediate thought was, ‘That bitch didn’t even tell me she was going to meet up with him!’ You’ve been holding out on me.”
“I didn’t know we were going to meet up,” I offer weakly. “It just sort of... happened.”
“Yet you didn’t think to call and tell me about it?”
