Brandon rests his arm on the table, entirely too close to a drying patch of ketchup for my comfort. “You still like the boy band guy.”
“Mason,” I correct, morbidly amused that Brandon seems to be the only one I can talk to about my ruined relationship without feeling like I’m drowning.
“Why don’t you call him?”
I toss my hands in the air. “Just call him? Just call Mason Knight out of the blue?”
“Yeah.” He looks at me like I’m five. “You still have his number, don’t you?”
“It went to voicemail.”
Did I leave a message like a sane person? No, of course not.
“So youhavetried to call.”
I glare at him, but he smiles.
“Once,” I admit.
I’m drawn out of our conversation by the two girls at the counter. They’re giggling like hyenas, and their eyes are plastered on the silent TV.
I shake my head, and I’m about to return my attention to Brandon when I hear Riley shriek from halfway down the bowling alley.
And yes, I know it’s my sister because I’ve heard her dulcet tones more times than I can count while growing up. I watch, bemused, as she comes tearing toward us, practically tripping in her tri-colored bowling shoes.
“Harper!” she squeals.
“Riley,” I deadpan.
Then she grabs myheadand forcefully turns me toward the television.
“You’re going to break my neck…” My complaint fizzles out.
Mason’s right there, on the entertainment show. It’s not a clip of his concert, nor of him galivanting about LA with some enhanced blond. He’s at a studio, doing an actual interview.
He’s holding something, but I can’t tell what it is.
Riley leaps over the counter, showing off her former cheerleading skills, and raises the volume on the TV until it’s practically blaring.
The young man working in the kitchen runs out, hollering at her, but he shuts up as soon as she motions for him to be quiet.
“You can’t read it now!” Riley whines. “Wait—just wait. Keep watching, Harper.”
“Shush,” I hiss because it’s been months since I’ve heard him actually talk.
“What day do you begin your national tour?” the pretty interviewer asks.
Mason lets out a slow exhale. “In a week. I play one concert in LA to kick it off, and then we’re heading to Europe.”
My heart clenches. Europe?
“And you’re hoping to win her back before then? Do you think it’s possible?”
He faces the camera, his familiar gray eyes piercing. “I don’t know. But I made her something, and I wanted to share it with you all today.”
The interviewer smiles, obviously confused, as Mason holds up a huge white piece of poster board.
It’s covered in pink puffy-paint hearts and glitter, and it reads,I’m your #1 fan, Harper!
