#famous(73)

It was hard not to look at them. I could have been wrong, the light wasn’t good, but it seemed like Emma was watching me.





chapter fifty-one


RACHEL

SATURDAY, 10:22 P.M.

I was actually panting, tongue half out like a dog.

I like dancing as much as the next girl, but the cameras following us around the floor meant everyone wanted to pull us into their group. Girls I’d never met were faux-karaokeing with me, bros who hadn’t known my name a few weeks ago were picking me up and twirling me in the air, and every song was someone’s “favorite EVER.”

It was kind of awesome at first—I’d never felt in-demand like that—but it was also exhausting.

I grabbed Kyle’s hand impulsively, pulling his ear down to my level.

“Do you want a break?”

He turned, a leftover smile stretched across his face.

“Yeah, for sure. Let’s get a drink.”

I pointed at the cameraman. Currently he was aimed at the walls, getting more scenery shots of the blue paper covering every square inch, glittery seaweed, mermaids, and tumorous octopi suspended on its surface.

We crept off, slightly bent over, toward the vending machine alcove, where tables crepe-papered in different blues held huge icy buckets of water and pop. Kyle grabbed two dripping bottles in one hand and my hand in the other, then started running, pulling me after him into one of the half-lit hallways that spidered away from the cafeteria. I laughed, gasping as we turned left past the history classrooms, then left again down the narrow hall where Speech, Econ, and Sociology lived in an ugly, low-ceilinged little outpost of misfits. Kyle didn’t stop until we were all the way at the end, near the narrow glass fire-exit door overlooking the loading docks.

“Charming scenery.” I stared at him, deadpan.

“I liked the contrast of grim industrial landscape against the frenetic energy of the preceding action.”

“Jesus, you really are starting to sound like one of the weirdos.”

“I told you. I like weirdos.” He passed me a bottle, suddenly unable to meet my eyes. I breathed in sharply. Now I couldn’t look at him either.

“Are you having a good time?” He busied himself with the top of his bottle.

“I’m having an amazing time.”

He smiled shyly.

“You deserve it,” he said, finally looking up. “All the attention I mean, the cameras. Like, I’m just some random guy. But you have so many ideas. You actually do things.”

I shook my head, too overwhelmed to respond to that. Is that what Kyle thought? It sounded so much more impressive than I actually was. But hearing him say it made it sound real. Like this so-much-better version of me wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. I took a drink of soda to steady myself. It was too fizzy and the bubbles tickled my nose. I set it down on the floor carefully, not making eye contact.

“That’s not why I’m having a good time.”

“What do you mean?”

A wave of nerves rippled through my body. Don’t risk it, Rachel. What are you thinking?

But why was I avoiding it? To make sure nothing painful happened? It was too late for that. I felt like Kyle had cracked something open in me and shined so much light inside, and now I couldn’t shut the door again. I’d never known anyone like that, able to see the good in everyone, to bring out the good in everyone. Telling him was risky, but saying nothing—resigning myself to sitting alone in the dark again—felt scarier somehow. I wanted his light.

“I mean, the reason I’m having a good time . . .” I swallowed hard. Suddenly it felt like I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. “It’s you. You’re the reason.”

I could feel blood pounding through my head, rushing into my cheeks and neck and chest and ears—I probably had flame-red ears right now, like some kind of Willy Wonka experiment gone wrong.

Then I felt his hand find mine, his fingers weaving in and out and over my skin, and all the worry washed away like writing on beach sand.

“For me too,” he said softly.

“Really? I thought you were with Emma.” Good one, Rachel. How about you remind him about the extremely gorgeous girl the moment he says he’s into you. I barely kept myself from rolling my eyes.

“Emma?” He looked genuinely confused. “No. She’s still a friend, I think, but we’re done. We’ve been done for a while.” Was this an act? He couldn’t have gotten that good that fast, could he? He’d never even taken a drama class.

Emma’s words rattled around in my head, whispering that I was making a fool of myself, she was the one he wanted.

Screw that. I wasn’t listening to that voice right now.

“So tonight wasn’t for the cameras?”

“Tonight was for you. I think this entire thing has been about you, at least since that first time we hung out.” Kyle shook his head, smiling. “I’ve never met someone who’s so . . .”

“Strange?”

“Sure of herself.” Kyle leaned in closer, just inches away now. I could sense his breathing—his chest was almost touching mine—alternating with my own, you in, me out, you out, me in. “You know exactly what you want. Exactly who you are. You don’t care what anyone thinks about you.”