“She was tired. She was just trying to support her sister. She wasn’t performing. She was just... being Luna.”
And now the world thinks they’re entitled to it. Her laugh. Her face. Her proximity to me.
JJ shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Public loves it, though. Comments are wild. Someone made a fan edit already. It’s low-key romantic.”
That makes it worse.
Because this thing. This fragile, sharp, still-forming thing between us. It’s real. Or it was. But now it’s content.
I hand him the phone without another word and push past them both. Take the stairs like I’m chasing something. Close my bedroom door with a solid thud that rattles the frame.
I sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, and stare at nothing.
She trusted me.
She let me into her orbit. Let me hold a corner of her chaos. And I told myself I could keep it safe.
Now she’s trending.
Now she’s a headline.
And it’s all my fault.
Chapter 27
The Price Of Gold
Luna
Myhandsareshaky.
I tell myself it’s just nerves, that it’s fine, that all I’m doing is getting dressed and going to a party with my maybe-sorta boyfriend. Except it’s not just a party. It’s this whole black-tie, media-splattered event. I might be able to handle that but throw in a family meet and greet and I’m officially terrified. Especially since his family doesn’t give off the warm and fuzzy energy I’m used to. Mind-blowing that he thought this would be a normal first date. Although to be fair, dragging him to my sister’s dance competition was an equally interesting choice.
“Breathe, Wilder,” Beth says, twisting another section of my hair around the curling wand. She’s exuding a suspicious amount of calming energy. It’s making me more antsy, like when someone tells you everything will be fine. That rarely bodes well.
“You’re not walking onto a battlefield. You’re just attending a nice, fancy little gala with your extremely hot, extremely loaded hockey player boyfriend.”
I press my palms against my thighs, ripping them away immediately when I realize they’re damp. Not your dress, Luna. “Gee thanks, Beth. Really helping the situation.”
Beth shrugs her shoulders. I’m getting zero apologies from her. “You’re a badass who captains a collegiate hockey team, wins over brands with a mere smile, and inspires billions of young girls to pursue their hockey dreams. You can survive a few crusty elites and a passed hors d’oeuvre or two.”
“Billions?”
“Millions, billions. Same difference.”
“Says the one who was born with a black Amex card tucked in her diaper. You’re only proving my point. You were born into this kind of life. Any chance you can go for me?” I bat my overly long fake lashes at her.
“Absolutely not. I hate these stuffy fundraisers. Oh, and I’ve got one more tip for you. Don’t eat the crab cakes. They’re a trap.”
As if I’ll be able to swallow a single bite, my throat is so dry, but a laugh sneaks out, and my shoulders relax.
Maisie plops down on my bed in a cloud of peach-scented body lotion. “Okay, but to be fair, his dad gives off major we own a yacht for our insider trading deals vibes.”
“Very specific,” I mutter, swiping another layer of concealer over the dark circles under my eyes. A faint shadow remains, no matter how hard I try to cover it up. I need more sleep.
“You’ve seen the news articles. He looks like a man who considers smiling a weakness, and judging from the way Beau talks about him, I’m pretty sure that’s accurate.”
Beth drops the curling wand into its heatproof pouch with finality. “Done. One stunning head of understated waves. You look expensive.”
