His gaze sweeps over me, inwardly calculating, but he eventually nods his understanding. “It pains me to say this, but maybe you should avoid me today. We’re not technically doing anything wrong, since you’re paying for your own meals and we’re sharing hotel rooms, but I didn’t tell my boss you’d be here so—”
I give him a salute. “I’ll be scarce.”
He hands me one last heated gaze before ripping off the wall and walking away.
“She’s a government spy,” Penelope suggests.
“A paparazzo,” Misha throws out. “Sent here to find dirt on Penelope and sell it to TMZ.”
“She’s Penelope’s long-lost sister,” Henrietta adds.
“That would track.” Penelope sprawls on one of the daybeds in the Etta Girls’ dressing room. “My father left when I was two.”
“I’m not your long-lost sister,” I promise. “And I’m not a pap, or a spy.”
“She’s a superfan!” Gretta pumps an index finger in the air. “She’s been collecting our hairs and dirty napkins to sell on eBay!”
“For a bunch of quasi-famous people,” I say, “none of you seem the least bit concerned aboutanyof these scenarios.”
“I’moutright famous,” Penelope says.
“And humble to boot,” Gretta says.
“Paige.” Misha rolls her eyes. “I’ve known you for years. I’m just reallynotthat concerned your big secret is going to change my opinion of you.”
That’s exactly how I’d phrased it right before they started speculating.
“Well,I’veknown you for a month,” Penelope adds, arm going over the back of the daybed, “and same.”
I clear my throat. “I’ve gathered you all here today—”
“You came intoourdressing room,” Henrietta interrupts with a snort.
“—to come clean about something,” I go on, shooting her a glare.
“She’s an alien,” Misha whispers.
“An immortal,” Gretta jokes.
“The truth is,” I proceed, willing the shaky words off my tongue, “Liam and I have been lying to you about our relationship.”
A beat of silence.
“Oh my God!” Penelope rises to her knees, mouth open in awe. “Are you guysfake dating? I fuckinglovethat trope!”
Note to self: Keep Penelope away from Zara. They’d get matching tattoos before the coffee went cold.
“No, we’rereallydating,” I say.
“Nowyou are,” Penelope replies with a smirk. “Because you realized your fake feelings were all too believable.”
“Hang on.” Henrietta’s brow scrunches. “I thought they were second chance?”
Misha shrugs. “Why not both?”
“We were never fake dating,” I say. “We were alwaysreallydating, but like, with abstinence?”
Misha blinks. “You two are abstinent?”
