“You’re telling me,” I reply, sitting down gingerly on the bed, my head still throbbing. “It’s started to feel a bit like a prison, to be honest. How did you know I was here, anyway?”
“Aww, my heart bleeds for you, being stuck in a dump like this,” Summer says, rolling her eyes. “And I saw the same way everyone else knew: by reading about it on the Internet. Seriously, Lexie, what the actual fuck?”
Her eyes are wide circles of indignation, and she looks like she can’t quite decide whether she’s hurt or just concerned.
“God, Summer, I’m sorry,” I groan, rubbing my aching temples. “I can explain, I promise.”
I stop, remembering the NDA I signed promising not to tell another living soul about my arrangement with Jett.
CanI explain? Am I even allowed to?
I groan again, as memories from last night come flooding back. Right before he dropped me off at the hotel, I told Jett the deal was off: that I couldn’t handle the lies any more — and Idefinitelycouldn’t handle the thought of flying back to Scotland to continue the charade there — so I was officially calling it off.
I don’t remember what he said in reply to that. I’m not sure he said anything, actually, from the moment we got back into the car — me having been thoroughly checked over first by a doctor, who helpfully confirmed that my underwear was too tight — until the terse goodnight outside my room. He insisted on making sure I got back okay, but made it clear he didn’t want to stick around… and, of course, I can’t tell Summer any of this, because I have no idea whether the NDA still applies now that I’ve decided I don’t want to do this anymore.
“Um, I’m waiting, Sexy Lexie?”
Summer’s still watching me, her leg jiggling back and forth with impatience.
I really want to tell her the truth. I know I can’t risk getting into any more trouble than I am already, though, so I decide to go for the easiest option I can think of.
“I had to sign a non-disclosure,” I tell her, putting my hands over my eyes and peeking through my fingers at her. “So I actuallycan’texplain. Please don’t be mad.”
“Fuuuck,” Summer says, her eyes widening even more. “That’s wild. I’ve heard of celebs doing stuff like that,” she adds, getting up and crossing the room to rummage through the mini bar. “Like, making their girlfriends sign NDAs so they can’t spill all their dirty little secrets if they break up.”
She comes back to the bed holding a tub of Pringles, which she pops open.
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I say quickly, still hiding behind my hands.
At least that’s true.
“Sure, sure,” Summer nods, stuffing a stack of crisps into her mouth. “It’s just casual. I get it. But look at this place.”
She gazes around the room, her face a picture of awe. “He must think a lot of you, Lex. Like, alot. So, what’s he like? I’m going to be needing aaaall the details here, just so you know.”
Summer goes back to munching on her snack, and I look uncomfortably down at my hands.
“He… he’s nice?” I venture at last. “He has this really cool pantry in his house. Like Khloe Kardashian’s, only moremanly.” It’s the only thing I can think of, but thankfully Summer is used to me by now.
“I can’t believe you’re seeingJett Carter,” she squeals, punching me in the arm. “This is just wild. You should’ve seen Amy’s face when she saw the photos! Oh my God, it was hilarious!”
“Has it been bad?” I ask cautiously, not sure I want to know the answer to this. “The coverage, I mean? I haven’t looked. They advised me not to.”
Summer bites her lip and looks away, finding something really interesting to look at on the other side of the room.
“I mean, I probably wouldn’t bother Googling yourself,” she says at last, popping the last Pringle into her mouth. “And definitely don’t go onto Twitter, whatever you do. That would be a really bad idea.”
“I won’t.”
“I tell you one thing, though,” Summer says, brightening. “The bar’s never been busier. All of these people coming in all of a sudden, all hoping to bump into Jett. Joe’s made up about it. Oh! And you’ll never believe it, Lex, but it even got Weird Ben out of his room. Some journalist came round asking to interview us all, and Weird B was right there, asking more questions than the journo. Wild.”
“Seriously? You got to see Weird Ben? I kind of wish I’d been there for that.”
“We did.” Summer licks the salt off her fingers, grinning. “He was surprisingly normal looking, actually. English. Blonde. Not bad looking, in a verycleankind of way. It was a bit of an anti-climax, really. He asked loads of questions about you, though. Where are you from, what do you do there, who are your friends… It was like he thoughthewas the journalist. Maybe he’s going to try to write a tell-all book or something. ‘Living With Lexie’. ‘Staying With Steele. I could go on.”
“Please don’t,” I say, grinning. “He wouldn’t have much to tell, anyway. He’s never even met me.”
“You’ll probably be surprised by the number of people who come out of the woodwork now that you’re… well, semi-famous,” Summer says, suddenly serious. “Amy was chatting away to that journo like you two were besties, and we all know you wouldn’t even piss on each other if you were on fire.”
