“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.