“It’s just…” She takes a deep breath. “Little Birdie has been writing about me having a crush.”
I wave my hand at her. “You should just ignore stupid rumors like that, Rue. Don’t let them affect you.”
“But they’re not stupid rumors,” she blurts. “It’s true. I do have a crush.”
My lips part. “Really? On who?”
Her eyes dart around, and the way she bites her lip makes my stomach feel uneasy. After a long moment, she whispers, “On Carlton.”
“Oh.” A current of thoughts and emotions whirl through me.Rue and Carlton? How long has she been crushing on him? How has her crush affected her friendship with me?
“I’m not going to act on it, so you don’t have anything to worry about. He clearly likes you, not me,” she explains in a rush. “I just figured it would be better for you to find out from me directly, in case Little Birdie really does tell everyone.” She fidgets with her hands.
“Oh, Rue.” I sigh. “I’m so sorry.” No wonder she’s been so frustrated with my inability to settle my feelings toward Carlton.
She offers me a sad smile. “Thanks. What a situation, huh?”
“The worst.”
We enter the twins’ upscale suburban neighborhood, just outside of Boston, and park on the street near their house. They live in a two-story stucco and stone new-build that looks nearly identical to those surrounding it. It’s clear it’s their house from the lights and booming music emanating from inside.
I turn to Rue from the driver seat. “You ready?”
“That depends,” she says. “Do you have a paper bag I can wear over my head if the truth comes out? Who knows how Carlton would react.”
An alert rings on my phone and on Rue’s at the same time.
Little Birdie.
“No,” she cries. “She wouldn’t tell everyone yet, would she?”
I bite my lip. I don’t want to give her false hope, because I know there’s a good chance Little Birdiewouldspill the beans. “Let’s find out.”
We both look at the blast. But Rue isn’t mentioned at all. Instead, several photos fill the screen, the first one a picture of a boy and a girl drinking from steaming mugs, surrounded by an expanse of orange pumpkins and haystacks.
Rue squints. “Is that…?”
My cheeks burn. “That’s me and Zayne.” Us together at the pumpkin patch, hot apple cider mugs in hand. In the photo, I’m looking up at him through my lashes, a wry grin on my face. He’s laughing hard at whatever I’m saying. I scroll down.
And my heart stops.
“Oh, no.” The words escape my lips in a hushed breath. Zayne at my side on the Ferris wheel, the two of us leaning close together in what is unmistakably an intimate conversation.
At the image of the two of us leaning together like I’m a flower and he’s the sun, warmth travels up my neck, spreading into my cheeks and hairline.
I remember the way Zayne’s cool breath touched my face as he whispered about working the corn maze, as he told me I’m becoming a better actor. Complimenting me, telling me I actually have a chance at getting into Underwood Academy.
The moment replays, spinning in my mind, making me feel things I don’t want to feel. So, I shove it all down and focus on what’s important.
I never told Carlton about any of this. And I know exactly how he’s going to take it. That is, if I don’t get in there and explain things myself.
“Come on, Rue.” I step out of the car, not checking to see if she’s following or not. I need to get inside. Now. Because it’s time to fix this mess I created once and for all.
Chapter Eighteen
Rue and I crash through the front door. Not exactly the classy, natural way I envisioned us arriving, but considering the circumstances of tonight, classy and natural will have to wait.
The main entrance of the Evans house opens up to a spacious foyer with high ceilings, chandelier lighting, and a grand staircase. The living room is cozy and inviting, with a plush rug, comfortable-looking sofas, armchairs, and a fireplace. Sprinkled throughout the space are cobwebs, plastic skeletons, bats, and colorful pumpkins.
