Kiss & Sell (28 page)

“Why don’t you go find someone else to harass, Kristi?” I asked, growing tired of her. “I’m sure your minions are waiting for you to return to your lair.”

a devilish smile spread across her lips. It was the eeriest sight and filled me with icy fear. “Aw, are you and the rest of the Musketeers fighting? What? Did
McCartwheel
borrow your clothes without asking or something?”

“I’m serious, Kristi. Why don’t you just leave,” I hissed, my blood beginning to boil.

“It must suck to be rejected—again,” she sneered.

“Let’s dance?” Ryder swooped in, just as I was weighing the pros and cons of going all WWe on my nemesis.

I felt Ryder take my hand, and then he was leading me out to the floor where a slow song had begun to play. When we were safely on the opposite side of the gym, Ryder pulled me toward him and linked his arms behind my back loosely. After a few minutes of swaying to the music, I felt my shoulders start to relax and my anger subside.

I rested my head against Ryder’s chest and exhaled deeply, letting go of the last five minutes.

“So…
that
was intense,” Ryder interrupted, when I’d had a chance to calm down. What’s up with those two? she’s straight out of
Mean Girls
and he’s—did you two date or something?”

“Me and Cade? no way. We’re just on Homecoming Committee together. Why?”

“Hmmm? nothing,” Ryder mumbled into my hair. “Just a vibe I got.”

I closed my eyes and let myself get lost in the music. In the moment. I imagined all the drama of the weeks before melting away and tried to focus on the fact that I was experiencing one of the coolest nights of my life. A grin grew across my face without me even realizing it.

Then, I opened my eyes and saw that Cade was twenty feet away, staring at me while he danced with Kristi.

“MIND IF WE
sit this next one out? Between drinking all that soda and dancing around, I feel like I’m gonna pop,” Ryder yelled over the music.

“Sure. I have to go to the bathroom, anyway,” I answered. Realizing how unromantic it was to announce to your very cute date that you needed to pee, I quickly backtracked. “I mean, I think I need to check my makeup.”

Ryder just cocked his head at me and smiled. “Okay. You go…check your makeup. And I’ll meet you back here in ten?”

“Sounds good. But remember, you promised to show me the dance you did in
Tiki Torch
. All of it. Even the ending 360 to a split.”

Ryder’s face grew serious as he started to back away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shouted, innocently.

“You’re such a liar!”

I laughed as he motioned that he couldn’t hear me over the music. When he disappeared into the men’s room, I headed in the opposite direction. I was still riding my Ryder-high when I pushed open the heavy door and slipped into the brightly lit girl’s bathroom. As it closed behind me, the music lowered to a dull thumping, and was replaced with a high-pitched ringing in my ears.

Appreciating the relative quiet of the room, I walked over to one of the porcelain sinks and rested my hands on the basin. As much fun as I was having with Ryder, being “on” in front of all these people was exhausting. I mean, I knew that most likely everyone was watching Ryder. But even if they weren’t watching
my
every move, they sort of were, since I was with Ryder as he took his every move.
Except for right now, while he was in the bathroom, and I was lucky enough to be in here, alone.

I jumped as I heard the toilet flush in the last stall and turned to see who was there. The door opened and my stomach sunk as I saw who it was. I had to look down at my hands on the sink to steady myself.

“Hey, McCartney,” I said, hoping she’d had a change of heart.

No response. Unless you counted the glare she shot me in the reflection of the mirror. Guess she was still mad after all.

“Come on, Cart. Can we
please
call off the Cold War, already?” I asked, facing her as she washed her hands.

Nothing.

“Fine. You don’t have to talk to me, but you
do
have to listen. Look,
I’m sorry
that I couldn’t go with you guys in the limo. You have no idea how much I wanted to be there with you. But the truth is, MTV is taping our date for a segment they’re producing, and they told me that I couldn’t tell anyone about it. I think they were worried that the paparazzi would find out and ruin the night…I even had to sign a contract promising I wouldn’t tell you or anyone else about it.”

“Oh, well, if you signed a contract…” McCartney said, sarcastically.

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry for you to believe me? all I’ve wanted to do tonight is hang out with you and Phin,” I pleaded. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“If that were true then you should’ve been honest with us from the beginning. Contract or no contract,” McCartney shot back as she stalked over to the door to leave. “Face it, Arielle. You’ve changed. And
not
in a good way.”

Her comment hit me like a punch to the gut. We hadn’t fought like this since the great santa debate of 2008: “Is he real or is he really our parents?” that one had lasted five days. At the time, I was sure we’d never talk again. But we had. This time, however, was a different story.

Because I was currently
furious
.

Practically on her heels, I stomped after McCartney huffily, rejoining the thumpa-thumpa sounds of the dance floor.

“Have you gone mental?” I screeched at her, thankful the music was playing loudly enough to drown out most of the scene I was about to make. “You’re just
jealous
because for the first time in the history of our friendship, people are paying more attention to
me
than they are to
you
!”

As soon as I said it, I regretted it. McCartney grew quiet with shock.

When she recovered a few moments later, her eyes narrowed, looking angrier than I’d ever seen her before. It was then that I noticed the camera crew posted just a few feet away from us. And they were capturing our entire confrontation. I looked over at the round lens nervously and then back at McCartney.

I need to get us away from these cameras before we say anything we regret…

Too late.

“Do you
Really
think I want to be like you? you’re famous for your
Inexperience
. And the only reason anyone is paying attention to you tonight is because you’re here with
Ryder
.”

Her words were harsh and powerful. I’d never thought McCartney was capable of hurting me like this. I knew the tears were coming even before they started to fall. Fighting the pain that was building in the back of my throat, I fled from McCartney and the cameras.

By the time I got back to our table, I was out of breath and out of time. Tears were streaming down my face, taking my makeup along with them. I snatched up my purse, telling Ryder that I had to leave, and then took off toward the door without looking back to see if he was following me. The throngs of people around me were a blur as I passed them on my way to safety. Someone called out my name, but I was so focused on escaping that I didn’t turn to see who it was.

The cool night air hit my wet cheeks, making me instantly frozen. But I didn’t care. As I tore through the parking lot in search of where we’d parked, I knew that things would never be the same. not just because McCartney was mad at me, but because I knew that in a way she was right. I
had
changed. Still, I couldn’t imagine my life without her and Phin as my best friends.

I replayed everything McCartney had said that night. If I was such a horrible person, then why had they been my friend in the first place? and hello? The whole kiss-selling project was their idea! It’s not like I would’ve come up with it on my own. It wasn’t my style. My friends had created this situation, so how could they be upset with the outcome?

“Arielle!” Ryder called out from behind me.

I slowed down, but didn’t stop. My chest and head were throbbing, and my body shaking, but all I could think about was getting home—as far away from McCartney, Phin, Crazy Kristi and Cade, that I could get.

“Arielle, slow down,” Ryder pleaded, grabbing my hand to force me to meet his pace. “What happened back there? are you all right? Why are you crying?”

I sniffled, not quite able to take a full breath on account of my extreme sobbing. If my brain hadn’t been so messy, I might’ve been embarrassed that I was having a mini-breakdown in front of a movie star. But acting wasn’t my strong suit.

“Thanks, Ryder, but I don’t really want to talk about it right now. Do you mind if we go home?” I managed to get out as we reached the limo.

“Of course,” he answered, looking concerned. He held the door open for me, taking my hand as I stepped inside and collapsed onto the nearest seat. Speaking quietly with the driver, and then exchanging a few words with the camera crew and producers, he somehow got them all to leave us alone. Sliding into the car behind me, Ryder gently put his arm around me and pulled me into him protectively.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said soothingly. “I promise. Everything will look better in the morning.”

I wanted to believe him, but I had the sneaking suspicion that things might look even worse in the light of day.

For about twenty seconds after waking up the next morning, I was happy. My lips formed into a smile and I lingered on the memory of the dream I’d been having before I’d woken up.

Then, I was drop-kicked back to reality as I recalled the events of the night before. My grin quickly disappeared. I contemplated forcing myself back to sleep so I wouldn’t have to deal with everything. But it was sunday, and that meant Mom was making her signature double-stuffed French toast; the kind she insisted weren’t considered junk food if we ate them together. I usually ignored the lack of logic and happily scarfed down the desert-as-breakfast meal, but as my nerves started to pick up, so did my nausea.

As I pulled myself up into a sitting position and glanced around my room, it was hard to ignore the collateral damage of my emotional breakdown the night before. My dress lay in a heap on the floor beside my bed, collecting wrinkles on the already wrinkled material. It was too late to save it now, so I left it there, and surveyed the rest of the mess. I located my heels over by the door, scuffed up from where I’d thrown them against the wall after prying them off my throbbing feet. My purse somehow made it onto my desk, but the contents had all spilled out.

The familiar ping that alerted me to new e-mails came from my computer. With a grumble, I threw my covers off and trudged over to my desk. Sitting down, I pulled my knees to my chest before clicking on my screen and looking at my inbox. As I scanned the list, I began to feel sick to my stomach for the second time that morning. There were e-mails from McCartney, eBay, and one from Cade.

Without even bothering to look at them, I closed out of my e-mail and turned my back on it all. Why would I give McCartney the chance to tell me off again? Or force myself to deal with Cade’s brooding, even though he had no good reason to be upset? and eBay? That stupid site had brought me nothing but frustration. Just
thinking
about kissing someone after all of this made me want to forget the whole thing. Let’s put it this way: Becoming a nun was starting to look like a viable option.

If kissing was going to cause this many problems, then maybe I was better off without it.

I forced myself to go through the motions of getting up, heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I noticed with horror that I had huge bags under my eyes. Probably a result of all the crying I’d done. In short, I looked scary.

Pulling on an old sweatshirt and slipping my feet into my softest pair of slippers, I followed the familiar noises of my mom bustling around the kitchen. She didn’t see me right away, but eventually turned around when she heard me pull out a chair and sit down.

“Hi sweetie! I hope you’re hungry. I’m making triple-stuffed French toast this morning. I figured you might need a little extra sugar burst after boogying down last night,” she said, grinning at me as she threw the dirty mixing bowls into the sink. “I can’t wait to hear all about it!”