Whatever It Takes (Bad Reputation Duet #1)(39)

I struggle holding everything else, and I almost drop my laptop again.

“I’ll carry this,” he tells me. “You take that.” He pockets the tampons and sets the comics on his cardboard box.

How can he be okay with pocketing my tampons? I’m about to refreeze and solidify all over again.

“Put your backpack on mine,” Loren says, drawing my attention up to him. He pats the top of his box, and I rise, reluctantly letting go of my possessions, too afraid I’ll spill them all.

“Thanks,” I mutter, having trouble even looking at Ryke now.

“Does your cousin have a name?!” a camera guy shouts, his words dizzying me.

“Yeah.” Loren uses one hand to hold the cardboard box, and the other sets on my shoulder, guiding me forward. “Her name is Willow Hale.” He gives them one lasting dry smile before we enter the glass double doors.

As we ride up to the fourth floor in silence, I regain some consciousness that I typically lose in embarrassing moments. It’s like a blackout, a fog, an out-of-body experience—my mind so stunned that it decides to abandon my body for a quick second.

I inhale, first and foremost. And then I look up. Ryke and Loren stand on either side of me, so tall that they make my 5’5’’ height feel short. I catch Ryke glaring at the space above my head, eyes narrowed on his brother.

Lo never looks towards Ryke as he says, “I had to lie. So you can stop glaring at me now. And in case you’ve forgotten, bro, I have the heart of Hades, so you shouldn’t be surprised anyway.”

“She’s not a Hale, Lo.”

Loren lets out a short, frustrated breath and meets his brother’s darkened gaze. “Yeah? But I couldn’t say she’s a Moore and have press digging up her little sister’s name. This is the better option for more than one reason. You know why?”

Ryke stays quiet and shakes his head, more like this is wrong.

“Now they think you’re related too,” Lo explains. “No tabloids are going to start rumors that you’re hooking up…or whatever.” Lo cringes at the idea.

I block out everything, internally dying and too overcome to concentrate on any other words or details. The elevator slows and beeps, and I nearly race off down the hall to my room: 458. I unlock the door with my keys—well, almost.

I drop them. I pick them up. And then I clumsily drop them again. It takes four tries before my joints work properly, and I turn the lock.

I have a very neat roommate, the tiny kitchen clean and pretty bare of appliances and food. Maya mentioned how she has a dining hall meal plan at Penn. The living room has a couple Avengers posters, Battlestar Galactica and Final Fantasy—plus stacks of anime on the coffee table.

Maya Ahn is cool. The Superheroes & Scones store manager had a roommate opening after her friend left for California, and it worked out in my favor.

I definitely can’t afford the whole rent by myself, and I start working at Superheroes & Scones soon, thanks to Lily’s kindness. Hopefully I’ll be able to pay off the first month’s rent that Lo loaned me.

The apartment splits off into two hallways; the left is hers, claimed by a Darth Vader poster on the door that says: I want you for the imperial forces!

The right is mine, unclaimed and bare. I open the door to a dorm-sized room, a simple built-in desk, a wooden dresser, a half-window, and a short single bed.

I take a seat on the slightly stained mattress, the wooden frame creaking. I hear footsteps as Ryke and Loren follow my shadow. I toss my phone from palm to palm, and it suddenly buzzes.

Maggie: Are you with Loren Hale right now?!?!?!





I balk. There’s only one way my best friend from Maine could know this that quickly. I log onto the Celebrity Crush website.

“Oh my God,” I mutter. A giant photograph of me snatching tampons off the sidewalk fills the landing page. Ryke has my panties on top of his box, and they’ve drawn a circle around them.

The headline: Loren Hale’s Cousin Has an Accident in a Parking Lot!

I type back to Maggie: it’s me…unfortunately.

Maggie: YOU’RE WITH LOREN HALE & RYKE MEADOWS!!!! WHAT IS UNFORTUNATE ABOUT THAT??? Also… why didn’t you tell me you’re his cousin? HELLO!





I knew that she might notice, but I doubt anyone else in Caribou will put two-and-two together and stir trouble for me. So I just text back: I just found out… please don’t tell anyone. My mom doesn’t want Ellie caught up in this.

Maggie: I won’t tell a soul. Skype me soon… I need LOTS of details!





After her last text, I dazedly skim over the article, catching the part where they mention how my “visit looks like a permanent one”—and of course, they point out every single item I dropped.

“This place is small.” Lo’s voice emanates from the living room.

I set my phone on the mattress and stare at my hands, a little more numb and hollow than before the car ride here. I can’t discern whether these feelings are from the severe lack of privacy…or just a normal bout of embarrassment.

“My first year dorm room was fucking smaller than this,” Ryke retorts.

“She’s not in college yet. She shouldn’t live in a shoebox until she has to.”

Ryke sighs heavily, their footsteps nearer. “I’ve already said what I’ve had to…” he trails off, and I sense them towering in the doorway, their hot gazes on my immobile body.