Love Songs & Other Lies(48)

Cam sits in the seat across from me in the booth. “You don’t, no.”

I flip open the laptop without looking at it, and push it toward him. I can hear the background noise of the Ferris wheel as the video clip starts.

“Fuck.”

“Yep.”

“So those girls earlier?” he asks.

“Yep.” I click the notification symbol that’s now showing “672” and shove the computer back toward him. “Seems I’m everyone’s favorite tour slut.”

“Vee—”

“Don’t, Cam.”

“I shouldn’t have—” Cam’s hand is an inch from mine on the table, and usually I’d make a big show of pulling it away, but I don’t even make the effort. He drums his fingers next to mine. “Where’d they even get all that stuff?” he says.

“Someone’s phone, obviously. It’s not like they were frisking everyone.” I focus on the table. “And you know where the video came from.”

“Ten seconds after this, you were pushing me away.” He runs a hand over his head. Cam looks behind me, toward the front of the bus, and suddenly he’s out of his seat, striding down the aisle. Tad is standing by the bunks, his camera trained on us.

Crap.

I get to Cam just as he pulls the camera out of Tad’s hand.

“What the hell?” Tad’s face is twisted in shock as the camera crashes down to the floor.

“You’ve got some nerve, getting friendly with her.” Cam pushes Tad in the chest, not nearly as hard as he could have, but hard enough to make me nervous. “Acting like you give a shit.” My hands are on Cam’s forearms as I try to calm him down. “You said you wouldn’t air it.”

Tad picks up the long lens lying by his feet. “I said I wouldn’t mark it, and bring it to anyone’s attention. And I didn’t. But you know I don’t choose what gets used.” Tad pushes his sleeves up, revealing his colorful forearms. “You should be happy they’re giving you so much coverage.”

“Happy?” I ask. Why would anyone want this? “Why would we be happy that we look like some kind of twisted love triangle?”

Tad sets the three pieces of his camera onto the couch. “Whose fault is it that people think you’re dating Logan?”

He has a point.

“Listen, when it comes to shows like this—reality contests—all coverage is good coverage. You guys interest people, and as long as there’s a good story, people are going to keep you around to see how it ends. And the producers like you, so they’re going to do what they can to sway things your way.”

“Sway things?” I ask.

“You honestly think these things are left completely to the public?” Tad rolls his eyes as he grabs his camera up off the couch. “You can’t be that naive.” Tad is still shaking his head in disbelief as he stomps down the steps of the bus.

*

Two hours later, the guys are at another rehearsal, and I haven’t stopped thinking about that video or those comments. I’m standing in front of my bunk, stuffing my clothes into my bags. The next plane to Chicago will have me on it. This is nothing like how I pictured my summer going; I’ll take my chances with boring Riverton.

I hear the breathy squeal of the bus door, and Tad steps on, with our second cameraman, Dave, behind him. When Tad sees me, he waves Dave away. Dave crosses the parking lot toward another bus while Tad makes his way down the aisle toward me. “What are you doing?”

“Packing,” I say, as I shove my laptop into my bag.

He sets his camera down, and—surprisingly—it isn’t pointing at me. It’s facing a nondescript wall. “I can see that.” He rolls his eyes. “Why are you packing?”

“Didn’t you get the memo?” I ask.

He stares at me blankly.

“I’ve been cast as the tour slut.” I pull my notebooks off the tiny shelf.

He grabs the strap of my bag and pulls it down the bed, toward him. “The memo I got didn’t say anything about you leaving,” he says.

I pull the bag back to me, and position myself between it and Tad. “Well, I’m not just waiting around for some crazy fan to jump me at the next show.”

Tad crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. “That’s a little dramatic.”

It is. I’m feeling very dramatic at the moment. I zip up my bag, and sling it over my shoulder.

Tad steps in front of me, blocking the aisle. “Listen to me. This will blow over. The fans will get over it.”

“They won’t even let us break up.” My voice catches in my throat as I try my best not to cry. “Jenn said they’re not ready for that yet. Jenn, the producers—everyone but me—is obsessed with keeping this thing with me and Logan going. It’s sadistic.” And I’m over it. If they won’t make the call to end it, I’ll do it for them. It may be the coward’s way out, but at least it’s my decision.”

“This hasn’t been about you and Logan for a long time, if you haven’t noticed—”

I’m confused, because this is all about me and Logan and this stupid lie.

Hands on his hips, he tips his head back, like he’s talking to the ceiling and not me. “And apparently you haven’t. God, Vee, I know you’re not this dumb.”