I felt Ethan stiffen. Meanwhile, I began to wonder if a sinkhole would appear and swallow me if I prayed hard enough. With each second that that didn’t happen, the room got quieter. Finally, I gritted my teeth and raised my hand as Buzzy said, “Ethan, hon, where are you?”
Next to me, I could almost feel Ethan’s energy joining me in my silent sinkhole prayer. To his credit, he wasn’t foolish enough to raise his hand when mine was already in the air. The most desperate part of my brain hoped that BamBam didn’t have her contacts in and therefore wouldn’t be able to see who was sitting next to me, even though I knew that was impossible. She wouldn’t have even made it into the room without—
“There she is. That is my brilliant granddaughter Jamie…” BamBam trailed off as she registered the exact thing I feared.
“And there is my handsome grandson Ethan.” The generally chipper tone of Buzzy’s voice died off somewhere around the second syllable of Ethan’s name as she processed what BamBam had figured out roughly two seconds earlier. While I can’t prove this scientifically, I’m almost certain that my heart stopped, and my entire body went cold for a full minute. When I finally heard BamBam’s voice, it was as if I were outside of my body. Like she’d already murdered me, and I was a ghost hearing her words.
“Young person, you want to tell me why you are sitting next to my grandbaby?” BamBam arched an eyebrow. As if suddenly remembering she was in front of an audience, she put a you-know-better smile on her face and said, “Jamie, this is like school. You gotta watch out. He’s probably trying to copy off you.”
“Ethan would never.” Buzzy’s voice was miffed, like she’d just missed out on a good flash sale. “No one in this family has ever copied anyone.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” BamBam grumbled. “You were wearing my outfit last night.”
Half the room erupted into chuckles as Buzzy sputtered. Ethan glanced over at me, as if we had received the same telepathic message. The only hope we had of salvaging this panel was to separate and pray that they got distracted. Giving me a quick half smile, he feigned complete surprise and jumped up. Raising his voice loud enough for the room to hear, he said, “So that’s who you are! I won’t copy your outfit if you don’t copy mine, okay?”
“I’ll be watching you,” I called, pointing two fingers at my eyes and then back at him as the room laughed. Ethan slowly backed away.
“I didn’t copy your outfit,” Buzzy said, still clearly irritated by my grandmother’s accusation. “Lady and House sent—”
“Oh, Buzzy, don’t get your nose out of joint. We all know it was an accident. We’re joking around.” Gregory frowned. “You two are so dramatic, and I say that as someone who is an expert in drama.” He rolled his eyes. “Evelyn, what’s the next question?”
Evelyn laughed, then cleared a dirty sock from their throat and asked, “So, as about everyone here knows—other than the two grandchildren in this room—we get tired a little more easily as we age. How do you all manage your energy and your filming schedule with the needs of an aging body?”
The space next to me felt surprisingly empty without Ethan. I tried to fight the urge to see where he was in the room. If he was badgering some other poor unsuspecting grandchild in a different row or if he’d snuck out entirely. I waited until BamBam, Buzzy, and Gregory were thoroughly engaged in a discussion about managing their energy levels—they were all big fans of the micro-nap—then threw a quick glance over my shoulder.
As soon as I did, I regretted it. Ethan was standing at the back of the room, staring directly at me. Feeling my face flush, I mouthed the one thing I knew would give me the upper hand.I told you so.
Ethan raised an eyebrow and leaned against a wall, a small smile crossing his lips, before he mouthed back something that looked suspiciously likeWorth it.
He turned his attention back to the front of the room, leaving me with more questions and absolutely no upper hand. I started filming BamBam again but couldn’t focus. By the end of the panel, I realized that the only thing I knew about him for certain was that there was more to Ethan Wyatt than I’d anticipated. And that I’d just agreed to something that could get us both into a lot of trouble.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I sat in the TrendConchartered party bus as we hurtled toward Kart World and tried not to feel sick. When I’d agreed to Ethan’s proposal, I’d been peak desperate. Now, with a few hours and one absolute disaster of a panel behind me, I was starting to second-guess our plan. It wasn’t that I didn’t want the money; I just wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to pull this off.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Nittha said, turning around in her seat to grin at me as the bus’s party lights twinkled above her head. “I was so sad Cricket wasn’t allowed to come, but then you surprised us, and BamBam clearly needed an emotional-support pup after this morning’s ‘incident,’ so this all worked out perfectly.”
Nittha put air quotes around the wordincidentas if that would somehow soften the blow of mentioning what the internet was already calling #GrannieGate. What Nittha didn’tknow—and I had no intention of telling her—was that while BamBam was upstairs with a cold compress on her forehead and Cricket snuggled at her side, drafting a rage email to the con organizers about including Buzzy without telling her, I was preparing to go behind her back with Ethan.
I glanced in Ethan’s direction. He was sitting a few rows up from us, crammed between the window and Sterling James, who was chatting with him a mile a minute. It struck me as strange that Sterling wasn’t sitting next to Emmie, but then again, if Sterling was as savvy as Ethan said, he was probably trying to avoid being in too many pictures with Emmie while hoping to be seen supporting her jilted ex. Empathy was good for brands. Messy friend drama, less so.
“We’re here,” Gabby sing-songed, an uncharacteristically large grin spreading across her face as we pulled up outside a small, tired-looking purple-and-red building labeledKart World. Next to the building stood a zigzagging racetrack with a few karts already running around it. Nittha and I exchanged surprised glances as Gabby popped out of her seat, nearly knocking other people out of the aisle. Briefly looking over her shoulder at us, she waved. “Hurry up. Fun awaits.”
“It’s only fun if you know how to drive.” Nittha sighed and pushed herself out of her seat.
“I’m not sure it is that fun for anyone other than Gabby, even if you do know how to drive,” I whispered.
Nittha stifled a giggle as the two of us stepped off the bus. Unlike literally everyone else who lived in Los Angeles, Nittha didn’t drive, which meant she was here strictly as moral supportfor me and Gabby. Okay, Gabby mostly. I wasn’t planning on doing much driving. Catching sight of Gabby at a coffee cart, she perked up and pointed. “I’m gonna get one. You want?”
“I’m good, but thanks.” I smiled and waited until Nittha had bounced off in Gabby’s direction, then scanned the crowd of people for Ethan and Sterling. I spotted Sterling almost immediately, his bright-red shirt billowing as he gestured emphatically at a group of people, including Emmie. Like the last time I’d seen her, she was perfectly made-up. Even sitting on the edge of a picnic table in the parking lot of a fun complex, she looked stylish. She didn’t seem upset this time, though. If anything, she appeared to be in her element, surrounded by people who looked equally flawless.
Not that Emmie’s feelings were any of my business. Hell, Ethan’s business wasn’t even my business if it didn’t have to do with this video. I shook my head to clear my mind, then spotted him. He was alone in a quieter corner of the outdoor complex, leaning against the go-kart track railing with his back to the party. He was standing mostly in the shadows, wearing a tie-dye gym tank top that had big armholes, white shorts, and sneakers with bright-green high socks. This was what he wore when it was hot outside?
His outfit looked ridiculous, but with the dappled sunlight filtering through the racetrack’s shade overhang playing across his face, he was cast in the kind of glow that was typically reserved for people in art house films. His jaw and cheekbones took on a harder edge while the breeze tossed his hair around carelessly. Watching him from this distance felt different. Lesslike he was the boy next door and more like he was the kind of forbidden fruit that you were desperate to taste.
Then he turned, and recognition crossed his face as he aimed that casual smile at me. A thousand butterflies in my stomach tried to make me sick. Taking a deep breath, I waved at him in a weird, jerky little burst, then immediately stopped. Why was I waving? It wasn’t like I was on a ship going out to sea. Ethan could clearly see me.
Exhaling, I started walking toward him, weaving my hands together in front of me and demanding that the butterflies in my system pull it together. I didn’t need to be nervous. This was a business deal, nothing more.
