The back of my neck burns. Damn. I hate having brothers sometimes.
I stalk away, but they both jog to catch up with me. Thankfully, they don’t ask any more questions or try to pry about what happened in my bedroom last night.
Even if I was the sharing type, I wouldn’t know how to say it without sounding like a lunatic.
J is definitely Jinx, and she’s been terrorizing some guy named Shawn, according to his wife Kelly. She’s here to manipulate us somehow, and I’m playing right into her hands by letting her get closer and closer.
By the way, even though I know she’s Jinx and shouldn’t be trusted, we cuddled last night. And then she kept touching me in her sleep, and I kissed her, and things got out of hand, and I almost killed her by accident.
Not exactly something I can share on our way to investigate my mom kidnapping my sisters-in-law.
Or something I can shareever.
“Which one of these is Mom’s company?” Zane points to the floor plan station.
My fingers curl into fists when I notice people staring at us. At first, it isn’t too obvious, but now that we’ve stopped moving, it’s undeniable.
“I think it’s this one.” Dutch points to the penthouse.
The crowd parts as we head to the elevator, and it reminds me of when we’re at Redwood Prep.
“Is it just me or are people following us?” Zane whispers.
Dutch looks around.
A camera flashes in our direction. I lift a hand to shade my eyes. Maybe we should have come here in disguises.
Zane quickens his stride. “Do you think we can make it to the elevator without being mobbed?”
Dutch grunts. “Don’t jinx it.”
“Ooh. That’s Finn’s girlfriend.” Zane points at me.
I glare in response.
“Um, excuse me.” A woman in a white shirt and short black skirt approaches us. “Do you mind signing my book?”
I glance past her to the elevator. We were so close.
“I’m ahugefan.” She looks between the three of us. “Your songspoketo me. It was so emotional. Like what music is supposed to feel like, you know?”
Dutch shakes his head. “We’re not doing autographs right now.”
“It’s fine,” Zane says, nudging Dutch in the side. “But just one. We really gotta go.”
Zane is an idiot if he thinks signing “just one” will satiate a crowd like this. The moment people see that we’re obliging the girl in the white shirt, they rush forward.
We’re surrounded in an instant.
The crowd doubles in the span of five seconds. Shouts erupt from people calling our names. Camera lights flash all around. Not all of these guys are fans. Some are just curious onlookers. Others are taking our picture, thinking that they can look us up later. A few more are simply enjoying a distraction from their daily routine.
All of it makes me grit my teeth with impatience.
We don’t have time for this.
However, I scribble my signature over books, T-shirts, book bags, and phone cases. Thankfully, this isn’t a concert but a placeof business, so no one is brazen enough to offer their bras for us to sign—something I’ve done plenty of times before.
“Back up! Back up!”
