the kind who kisses boys she barely knows on sidewalks. And certainly not the kind that gets photographed and has her picture splashed across tabloids.
“Tell me everything!” Caroline shoves me into the senior lounge, a cramped, closet-like space filled with old furniture and a decrepit microwave.
“We’re not supposed to be in here, we’re juniors…” I say quietly, unsure why I’m pointing this out. I have bigger problems right now.
“Screw that! I want details.”
She leads me over to the sofa and pushes me. Thanks to my otherwise occupied mind and an already precarious sense of balance, I tip like a drunk girl in stilettos and drop down onto the springy surface of the couch. I wince as my shoulder hits the cushion-less backrest. Instead of looking at Caroline, I run my hands over the upholstery and grimace. It’s old, pilled, and smells. There are stains all over it too. An ink blotch by my left knee and something vaguely orange and tomato scented by my right thigh.
Grant West touched that thigh, in the middle of our kiss, letting his hand slowly creep down my side, brushing his finger tips so lightly...
The sound of the door slamming forces me back to reality. Caroline is securing the lock and yanking down the blind that covers the window.
“How could you not tell me you met, no kissed, Grant West? You know how much I love him! I’m not jealous, I swear, but how could you not call me?”
I try to stand up, but the couch is too low and my legs are too weak. I merely flail a little before giving up. “I didn’t know!”
“You didn’t know? What the hell does that mean?” She looks down at me. Despite the fact that she’s technically half a foot shorter than me, and a good twenty pounds lighter, I feel utterly miniscule beneath her furious, questioning gaze.
“It means I didn’t know who he was.” I fling up my arms and glare at her. I know I shouldn’t be getting mad at her, it’s not her fault. But I can barely deal with my own confusion, let alone hers.
“But...but he’s Grant West. How could you not know? And all the cameras? You had to have wondered what they were there for?
“I didn’t recognize him...and the cameras were all taking pictures of Summer...” I rub my right eye with the heel of my fist.
“You didn’t recognize him? God Sydney, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Everyone recognizes Grant. My four year old sister knows who he is.”
I shrug.
“You make no sense. Tell me everything. Start from the beginning.”
I sag back into the couch and glare at the ceiling. It’s easier not to look at Caroline directly, what with the gymnastics routine her face keeps doing every time I say something she doesn’t get. “We met at this restaurant. I was supposed to be meeting Alyssa but she flaked again. So I was sitting there and I dropped my phone, and when I went to pick it up, I kind of hit him with my chair.”
“You hit him with your chair!”
I nod. “And my forehead.”
“What?”
I look at her. “Well after that we both bent down to get the phone at the same time, and I knocked his forehead with mine...”
“So you hit him twice? How the hell does that lead to him kissing you in front of a million people?”
“It wasn’t a million people...it was like twelve photographers and some passersby, Summer Stone, the cab driver...”
Caroline rolls her eyes and I shut up, getting what she means. The picture is out there for every eye on the planet to see. I go on with my story.
“Then he sat down beside me and started talking to me.”
“And you didn’t recognize him at all?”
“No.” I squeeze my eyes shut and picture his face. Now that I know who he is, I can see it, totally. But at the time, I had no idea. At all. He was just some hot guy who was talking to me. Although looking back now, there were signs. The weird look on his face when I asked him what he did for a living, that panic in his eyes when that woman screamed out after
“Tell me everything!” Caroline shoves me into the senior lounge, a cramped, closet-like space filled with old furniture and a decrepit microwave.
“We’re not supposed to be in here, we’re juniors…” I say quietly, unsure why I’m pointing this out. I have bigger problems right now.
“Screw that! I want details.”
She leads me over to the sofa and pushes me. Thanks to my otherwise occupied mind and an already precarious sense of balance, I tip like a drunk girl in stilettos and drop down onto the springy surface of the couch. I wince as my shoulder hits the cushion-less backrest. Instead of looking at Caroline, I run my hands over the upholstery and grimace. It’s old, pilled, and smells. There are stains all over it too. An ink blotch by my left knee and something vaguely orange and tomato scented by my right thigh.
Grant West touched that thigh, in the middle of our kiss, letting his hand slowly creep down my side, brushing his finger tips so lightly...
The sound of the door slamming forces me back to reality. Caroline is securing the lock and yanking down the blind that covers the window.
“How could you not tell me you met, no kissed, Grant West? You know how much I love him! I’m not jealous, I swear, but how could you not call me?”
I try to stand up, but the couch is too low and my legs are too weak. I merely flail a little before giving up. “I didn’t know!”
“You didn’t know? What the hell does that mean?” She looks down at me. Despite the fact that she’s technically half a foot shorter than me, and a good twenty pounds lighter, I feel utterly miniscule beneath her furious, questioning gaze.
“It means I didn’t know who he was.” I fling up my arms and glare at her. I know I shouldn’t be getting mad at her, it’s not her fault. But I can barely deal with my own confusion, let alone hers.
“But...but he’s Grant West. How could you not know? And all the cameras? You had to have wondered what they were there for?
“I didn’t recognize him...and the cameras were all taking pictures of Summer...” I rub my right eye with the heel of my fist.
“You didn’t recognize him? God Sydney, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Everyone recognizes Grant. My four year old sister knows who he is.”
I shrug.
“You make no sense. Tell me everything. Start from the beginning.”
I sag back into the couch and glare at the ceiling. It’s easier not to look at Caroline directly, what with the gymnastics routine her face keeps doing every time I say something she doesn’t get. “We met at this restaurant. I was supposed to be meeting Alyssa but she flaked again. So I was sitting there and I dropped my phone, and when I went to pick it up, I kind of hit him with my chair.”
“You hit him with your chair!”
I nod. “And my forehead.”
“What?”
I look at her. “Well after that we both bent down to get the phone at the same time, and I knocked his forehead with mine...”
“So you hit him twice? How the hell does that lead to him kissing you in front of a million people?”
“It wasn’t a million people...it was like twelve photographers and some passersby, Summer Stone, the cab driver...”
Caroline rolls her eyes and I shut up, getting what she means. The picture is out there for every eye on the planet to see. I go on with my story.
“Then he sat down beside me and started talking to me.”
“And you didn’t recognize him at all?”
“No.” I squeeze my eyes shut and picture his face. Now that I know who he is, I can see it, totally. But at the time, I had no idea. At all. He was just some hot guy who was talking to me. Although looking back now, there were signs. The weird look on his face when I asked him what he did for a living, that panic in his eyes when that woman screamed out after
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