She’d have to be blind not to see the plan’s positives, but there were also a boatload of cons, most of which would befall Cashshould the relationship go south. How was it Rosaline had put it? The higher you climb, the harder you fall? The more serious the relationship appeared, the more Lyric’s fans would be crushed for her if they split. The blame would fall squarely on Cash’s shoulders, and he’d have to face the fallout of breaking the heart of America’s sweetheart pop star.
She couldn’t help but worry.
Cash took a seat on the edge of the bed. “I know you’re upset. That article blindsided all of us, but we talked, Lyric and I, and she’s on board with this new plan. She doesn’t want to hide—not me, not this, not any of it. And honestly? Neither do I. She’samazing, Poppy, and she deserves someone who isn’t afraid to be all in with her. To—to walk in the sun with her.”
Walk in the sun? “Have you been listening to Cyndi Lauper?” she teased.
He ducked his head, trying to hide the blush that crept up his jaw and turned his ears red. “Lyric likes her.”
Her heart squeezed, affection swelling up inside her. Listening to new-wave pop? He really must be smitten.
“That’s sweet.” She squeezed his fingers. “And I’m not trying to discredit either of your feelings. I’m just nervous? It’s—it’s been less than a month, Cash, and you’re already planning on going public.”
He tugged his hand free and scowled petulantly. “It’s a football game, not a marriage proposal. Would you be telling me I was moving too fast if some regular girl was coming to one of my games?”
“But that’s just it. She’s not a regular girl. She’sLyric Adair.A football game isn’t just a football game—it’s a declaration. You’re going to be inviting the whole world into your brand-new relationship,” she warned. “Are you ready for that?”
“This isn’t a game to me,” he swore. “Or if it is? I’m playing for keeps. I appreciate the concern, I do, but this is something Lyric and I need to figure out. Together. Because you’re right about one thing—she’s not a regular girl. This is her life and if I want to be a part of it, I need to get used to everything that entails, the good and the bad, the hard and the messy. Our relationship won’t be real if we build it in a bubble. If we’re gonna make it, we’ve got to learn how to drown out the noise.”
When Cash put his mind to something, there was no deterring him. She knew better than to try. “If you say so.”
“I do.” He gave her a chuck on the chin and smiled. “Chin up, Pop-Tart. And don’t let Rosaline Sinclair get in your head.”
She rubbed her eyes and groaned. “You didn’t hear the way she spoke to me on the phone. She thinks I’m a total hack.”
A strange look passed over his face, his mouth opening and closing without saying a word.
She straightened and frowned. Nothing good ever came from a quiet Cash. He was kind of like a cat or a toddler that way. Silence usually spelled trouble. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, too breezy to be unfeigned.
“Cash.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Okay, I didn’t want to make it weird, but you work forme, Poppy. Not Rosaline. And for what it’s worth, I couldn’t be happier with your performance.”
She snorted. “Right, sure. My inability to protect your privacy and keep your relationship hidden from the press reallyscreamscapable.”
“I know you’re not apologizing for something we both know damn well wasn’t your fault. What’s this really about?”
She gave her smoothie a stir, jabbing the straw through a pieceof fruit that hadn’t been totally obliterated by the blender’s blades. “It’s stupid.”
“Lucky for you I’m fluent in dumbass.” He gave her a lopsided smile and bumped her shoulder, jostling her lightly. “Come on. Lay it on me.”
Can’t say she didn’t warn him. “I just wanted her to be impressed, you know?”
“Rosaline?”
“No, the Easter Bunny.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Rosaline.”
His brow furrowed. “Since when is the Easter Bunny a girl?”
She stared. “God love you, Cash, but when you said you were fluent in dumbass, I didn’t need you to prove it.”
“Off topic, right.” He winced. “I can’t say I love this, Pop. You twisting yourself in knots to win someone’s approval.”
She looked away, fiddling with her straw.
No one had ever taught her how to make friends and she’d definitely not been a natural at it. Eventually, she’d learned a cheat code, a way to fake it until she made it: mimicry. All she had to do was look around and imitate the people around her, do what they did. Watch the same shows, feign interest in the same silly gossip, shop at the same stores, and wear the same clothes. After a while, it wasn’t too hard to secure invitations to the same parties where she learned to drink the same beer and play the same drinking games and fool around in the same closets. She’d learned how to fit in, but it had required constant vigilance. Poppy had never not been thinking, never not analyzing the behaviors of everyone around her and weighing her own against them. She could never drop her guard, never be herself and, after a while, she’d forgotten what being herself even looked like.
