I say the words I never thought I’d speak. “When can I do it again?” In the overall scheme of risks, it’s a small one, but I feel like I can tackle anything after this.
“Yes, Olivia! That’s what I like to hear.”
Half an hour later, we’re out of the hideous jumpsuits and walking down the city street on our way to head home.
“Let’s stop here.” She points to a corner deli. “I need something to drink after all that wind,” Daisy says.
At the deli, she loads up on drinks and snacks. I eye her growing basket, and she laughs. “What? It made me hungry, too.”
When we get to the register, I purposefully keep my eyes forward, avoiding the tabloid display, afraid to see Cassidy and Chase again.
“Holy shit, Olivia!”
I turn. Daisy holds her basket in one hand, while the other grasps a magazine.
She pushes the magazine toward me. “What’s this?” she asks in accusation. “What the hell, Olivia?”
I look at the grainy photo on the cover. At first, I think it’s a still from The Wanderers movie. The famous scene where Chase dances with and kisses his costar in the rain. But the setting and clothes look all wrong. And then I realize that, though it’s Chase in the photo—the girl kissing him…
It’s me. My heart plummets.
Someone captured our rain-soaked kiss on camera. Maybe one of the hotel employees.
It’s blurry, and the rain obscures a good part of my face, but that’s unmistakably us. Still, I try to brazen it out.
“I don’t know. Who do you think it is?” I ask weakly.
“Don’t play me. You’re a terrible liar, and I recognize you. That’s your lips kissing my brother. And that’s your hair he’s burying his hands in. And your body he’s…” Daisy doesn’t continue that line of thought because, well, his hands had been wandering when we kissed, and the photo shows just how far they’d traveled. Daisy shakes her head, still looking at the magazine in disbelief. “Gross.”
“I’m on the cover of a tabloid,” I mutter in shock.
“Never mind the tabloid. I can’t believe you hooked up with my brother.”
“I didn’t—” and then I stop. Because I kind of did. Not all the way, but still. “He’s your foster brother,” I correct.
“Like that matters. It is so ew.”
“It is not ew. He’s a sex symbol. You can’t say ew.”
“Yes, I can. When did this happen? Are you dating? Why didn’t you tell me?” She fires the questions at me like a machine gun.
“What? No! We spent last weekend together. And it’s your fault. You asked me to drop off that gift at his hotel. I thought maybe you were trying to play matchmaker. But it was just a temporary thing. He’s a star, and he dates supermodels. He’s not interested in me like that.”
The cashier leans across the counter until he can see the magazine Daisy’s holding. “Holy shit, that is you,” cash register dude exclaims in surprise.
“Damn, girl. Don’t get down on yourself. You’re hot, and you’ve got great tits.” He zeroes in on my chest. “Some dudes like a little more to grab, if you know what I mean. Just keep giving him more of that there, and you’ll be fine.”
I glare at the cashier while he rings up our purchases. Daisy presses money into his hand. “Here, for the food, the magazine, and the relationship advice. Keep the change.” She grabs my arm, leading us out of the store.
As we walk, I scan the magazine, speed-reading the article and flipping through the rest of the pages with increasing desperation.
They only got a few grainy shots. But my face is tilted up and at least partially recognizable. I read the salacious headline and then scan down to the first line when my heart stops cold.
I grab Daisy’s arms. “They have my name and where I work. How did they find out? How’d they know?”
I go cold. Then hot. My legs shake, and my face breaks out in a sweat. Is this what going into shock feels like?
This is an international magazine, the most prominent tabloid in multiple countries. My face and name are plastered at magazine stands and cash registers around the world. This must be viral by now. Chase James kissing a girl is a major story.
“I need to sit down. I might be sick.”
“Not on the street,” Daisy says. “We’ll get you home and figure this all out.”
I’m grateful for Daisy’s cool composure. She hails an Uber, though with my mind still spinning, I don’t remember the ride. Daisy insists on coming home with me and makes us two cups of coffee.
I accept the drink, feeling grateful for her presence.
“It’s good. Thank you,” I say. I’m usually the coffee-maker, the caretaker. It’s nice for someone else to take that role.
She sits down next to me. “Care to fill me in on what’s going on?” she asks gently.
I take another sip, giving myself a minute. Daisy waits without saying anything.
“When I got to his hotel to deliver your gift to him, he was really sick.”
“He should have called me! I was out of town, but I could have come back,” Daisy says in dismay.
“He didn’t want to bother anyone. He had food poisoning. I was worried and didn’t want to leave him with such a high fever, so I stayed. Then he got better and…”
“And?” Daisy says with impatience.
“And I spent the weekend with him,” I mumble into my coffee.
“You did what? Why didn’t you tell me?” Daisy cries, as if she can’t decide whether to be outraged or excited.
I gnaw on my lip. “I’m still trying to process it, honestly. Talking about it would make it feel real, and it was just this very temporary thing. I can’t be hung up on a movie star.”
“I suspected something might be between you. I thought it might even be good for you both. But maybe I was wrong. I’m going to kill Chase if he did anything to hurt you. I know you, Olivia. There’s no way you are okay with a one-night hookup. He’s a million times more experienced.”
Hearing that makes my stomach churn, even if I know it’s true. But this isn’t his fault. I meet her gaze. “Don’t be mad at him. It’s also why I didn’t tell you. He never made me any promises. I knew how it would be. He was sweet. He didn’t take advantage of me. If anything, I threw myself at him.”
She snorts. “I doubt that.”
“It’s true. At least, I wanted more, but he stopped us from…” I falter, embarrassed. “He put the brakes on things.”
“Not on everything, by the looks of it,” Daisy says, jiggling the magazine.
“Yeah, well, that was my fault, too. We were playing truth or dare in his hotel room, and I dared him to kiss me in a rainstorm. I thought it would be funny to make him reenact the scene from The Wanderers. It didn’t even occur to me there could be paparazzi or that someone would get a picture.”
“Chase’s life is like that old movie, The Truman Show. You have to accept it if you want to be around him. And you might not have realized someone would take a picture, but Chase knew the risk.”
“I’d accept his life. But he’s not interested in giving me the opportunity. And now, we’re on the cover of a magazine because of my dare,” I say with a groan.
I wonder what Chase will think of the tabloid. Will he be upset?
Daisy stays with me as I work up the courage to do a search of myself and Chase on the internet. I need to know what’s being said about us.
Horror shoots through me as I read the comments on my laptop. Brutal words dissect my every flaw. My vision clouds with tears. It’s like middle school all over again, the year when I was bullied. Only this time, instead of a few nasty preteen kids, it’s thousands of online trolls doing the hating.
Gross. Slut. My middle school bullies called me that because my breasts came in, fast and furious. It hadn’t been long after my mom had died, and I retreated more firmly into my writing and the world of books, into that safe space of dreams and make-believe.
Back then, it felt as if the whole world was against me, but it had only been a small group of girls and boys, led by one boy in particular. Now, the world truly is looking at me, judging me, and tearing me to shreds. Nausea rolls through me.