Dex clears his throat. “Anyway. We’ll pick you up at five.”
They all exchange the kind of look that says they’ve been plotting something. But I don’t have the energy to argue.
“Whatever,” I mutter. “Dinner sounds fine.”
Except it isn’t dinner. Obviously.
***
At five sharp, Gabriel’s SUV pulls up and the doors fly open before he even stops.
“Get in, loser, we’re helping your love life,” Dex says.
I pause. “Absolutely not.”
He grabs my arm. “Absolutely yes.”
They shove me inside. The SUV smells like cologne, fries, and chaos.
Everyone is vibrating with excitement.
“This feels illegal,” I say.
“Not yet,” Eli answers. “But we’re trending in that direction.”
I look out the window. We’re heading downtown.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Dinner,” Dex says.
***
“Dinner at a TV studio?” I deadpan as we pull up to a massive venue with a huge banner:
LIVE TONIGHT: MARK CUMMINGS PERFORMS HIS HIT HEARTBREAK SINGLE.
My stomach drops. “We’re not doing this.”
Dex unbuckles. “Correction: YOU’RE not. WE are.”
I stare at him. “What does that even mean?”
Colby grins like a man who loves poor decisions. “Field trip.”
“I hate all of you.”
“Love you too, buddy,” Eli says, slapping my back.
The plaza is packed. Camera crews everywhere. Fans screaming. It feels like a concert merged with a stampede.
I pull my hoodie low over my face and pray no one recognizes me.
Mark is onstage warming up, posing into the lights like a dramatic peacock.
Dex taps my arm. “Brace yourself.”
“For what?”
