A locker door clangs shut—Rae’s. “Shut up, Mel.”
Mona’s fans leaked pictures of the encounter all over social media before we even left the Landmark, so I shouldn’t be surprised people are talking about it. Rae saw the pictures, of course, which led to alongphone conversation about why I’d kept it a secret.
One of the cheerleading twins asks, “Is that even allowed?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Rae snaps.
“I’m no lawyer, but hello? Conflict of interest?”
“You think knowing her son gives her some sort of advantage?” It’s Laney who comes to my defense. “That’s just stupid.”
“No, it’s not,” Mel says.
“Shut up, Mel!” Laney and Rae both snap at the exact same time.
Mel’s perma-tanned skin turns a fiery orange. She scowls at me. “You think you’re better than everyone else, Angie. Well, news flash, you’re not. And dating the son of someone famous isn’t going to make you better either!”
“Stop it, Melanie.” This time, it’s Ten who says it. He doesn’t look at her. Just stares at his dark loafers.
“It’sMelody,” she hisses, before stomping off.
Rae glares at her, then at the crowd gawking at us. Most scamper away; others huddle in groups to whisper. As she makes her way to us, her gaze runs over Ten as though it’s the first time she’s seeing him.
She leans her shoulder into the locker next to mine. “I can’t believe you’re Mona’s son.”
Ten finally raises his gaze off his shoes. “That makes two of us,” he says quietly.
The bell shrills, and the hallway starts emptying.
“We should…” I gesture toward a classroom.
Rae squeezes my hand. “I’ll catch you guys later.”
As bodies move around us, carving the tense air, I touch Ten’s wrist. His arms are crossed so tightly in front of his chest that tendons jut against his tanned skin.
“Ten, I’m sorry—”
“It was just a matter of time until everyone found out.”
I’d been about to apologize for participating in his mother’s contest, not to offer my condolences for his lost anonymity, but I go with it.
“Are you going to be okay?”
He shrugs. “As long as no one asks me for free tickets to her concerts or backstage passes, I’ll be good.”
I give him a rueful smile. “Damn. How am I supposed to get backstage passes, then?”
“You’ve got to pay for them and contribute to the trust fund I plan on donating to charity at some point.”
“Which charity?”
“A couple of different ones. Mostly health care. The system sucks so much in this country.”
“That’s sweet of you.”
“Appearances can be deceiving, huh?”
“I always thought you were sweet.”
