V is for Virgin (21 page)

Isaac looked me in the eyes. “You’re going to be great,” he said and then gave me a quick kiss.

I guessed it was official then. If Isaac was kissing me in front of everyone, including my parents, then that had to mean he was my boyfriend. I thought it over quickly and decided I was okay with that.

When Isaac pulled back and smiled tentatively I beamed at him and grabbed his hand. I didn’t plan on letting go of it all night either. “Okay,” I said letting out a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

With a smile, Isaac dragged me out into the crowd.

The event took place in the main common area of the mall that was usually reserved for talent searches and Santa Clause. Tonight it was set up with a stage for Tralse to play on and they’d brought in extra security for crowd control. The mall was open to the public, but you had to have a special pass to be allowed into Margret’s jewelry store, which was a sort of base of operations for the night.

The first part of the evening was just a meet and greet. While Tralse played in the background people mingled and asked me all kinds of questions. I couldn’t understand it, but it seemed everyone wanted to meet Virgin Val. Even the Mayor was there and told me I’d been nominated for some teen do-gooder award. It was mind blowing.

Then it came time for the unveiling of the new Virgin jewelry line. All the press gathered to hear the speeches from myself, Mr. Cartwirght and Mr. Jackson, and, even though I’d already given the money I’d earned at the festival to Darla, someone had one of those giant checks printed up and they made a show of me handing it to Darla.

After that was the press conference. That was the part I’d been dreading the most, but it turned out to be not so bad. More cameras, more people staring at me, but most of the same questions I’d been answering since all this madness started.

Everything was going smoothly until some reporter from a celebrity gossip magazine brought up the inevitable topic of Kyle Hamilton. “I noticed that Tralse is here this evening,” she said with a ridiculously smug smile. “Does that mean the rumors of your feud with Kyle Hamilton are exaggerated?”

“Feud?” I repeated a bit incredulous.

I couldn’t stop myself from glancing Kyle’s direction. He met my eyes and smiled a smile ten times more smug than the reporter’s. I wanted to smack it off his face. We’d see how smug he felt in a minute.

“I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about,” I said, turning my attention back to the reporter. “I’m very grateful to Kyle. No one has helped spread the word about V is for Virgin and the abstinence challenge more than he did when he wrote that song. Without it, none of us would be here tonight. Now, Tralse will be featuring the Virgin necklace in their next music video. It will be wonderful publicity. In fact, you could argue that Kyle Hamilton is V is for Virgin’s biggest supporter.” I made a point of turning toward Kyle then, with a smile so angelic it was borderline evil. “Really, I can’t say thank you enough.”

Every eye in the room was now on Kyle. His smile never wavered, but I could see something in his eyes as he stared at me. Surprise, anger, amusement, I couldn’t say, but there was definitely something. Something that made me wonder if I’d just made a huge mistake goading him like that.

Kyle looked out over the sea of curious spectators and then, without a word, made his way up to the podium where I was standing. My heart sped up as he got closer. He had that gleam in his eyes again—the animalistic one he’d cornered me with in the school a few weeks back.

He stopped inches from me, radiating enough testosterone that the people watching us could see it rolling off him in waves. I braced myself, trying to match his confidence.

Kyle brushed his fingers over my necklace. Heat surged through me when his fingers came in contact with my skin. “It really is a cryin’ shame,” he said earning a few chuckles from the audience.

He looked out at the crowd of people taking our picture then flashed a wicked grin. “Actually, there is one way you could thank me,” he said loud and clear into the microphone.

Kyle didn’t give me the chance to reply. He pulled my face to his and kissed the hell out of me in front of everyone from my boyfriend to CNN.

I forgot about the cameras. I forgot about my parents. I forgot about my campaign. I forgot that I was supposed to be a role model. In that moment the only thing I could think about was Kyle.

And how much I wanted to kill him.

I pushed him off me and slapped him so hard my hand stung. His cheek welted almost instantly. I was glad to see it. “Don’t
ever
do that again,” I hissed, shaking with fury.

Kyle smiled, more than pleased to break through my control. “You know why you’re so angry right now?” he asked me, laughter in his voice. “Because you liked it. You
want
me. You’re going to get tired of this pointless no-sex crusade of yours Virgin Val. You’re gonna break, and I’m going to laugh when you do.”

“You’re a pig!” I yelled.

“You’re a prude!” Kyle shot back.

“I am not going to
break
,” I said, lowering my voice but still growling. In that moment I made the decision that had been plaguing me for days. “I’m joining the Not Everybody’s Doing It Foundation as their new spokesperson, and I am going to do whatever I can to convert every girl in this city to abstinence—every girl in the whole world—if for no other reason than to make sure you never get laid again.”

Kyle glared at me with a hard, angry smirk. “Good luck with that,” he said and then stalked off through the sea of people, ignoring all the questions being flung at him as he went.

I didn’t just make national news. With our shocking performance, Kyle and I went global. Somehow overnight I’d become more popular than a Kardashian.

After Kyle stalked off the stage that night Misters Cartwright and Jackson wrapped up the press conference while Darla and Margret whisked me back to the jewelry store where I locked myself in Margret’s office until my parents could take me home.

I hadn’t spoken to anyone, hadn’t checked my email or turned on my phone, and I’d refused to let my parents turn on the television for the rest of the weekend. I’d thrown myself into complete seclusion. I even went so far as to nail a big fat dark blanket over my bedroom window despite the blinds, because the paparazzi were camped on my front lawn with their telephoto lenses.

Cara was the first to penetrate my fortress of solitude Monday morning before school. I was surprised it took her so long. “Well it wouldn’t have,” she told me as we climbed the stairs to my room. “Except your parents were pretty determined. They said you needed a day at least.”

“I did, but I’m glad you’re here now.”

“I take it you’ve avoided the news?”

“The news, yes. Kyle? Not so much.”

Cara gave me a questioning look, but I just shook my head as if to say, “Just wait.”

I threw open my bedroom door for Cara to witness the monstrosity within. I would have warned her, but there was no way I could prepare her for it.

Cara walked in my room and gasped. “Holy crap! There must be fifteen dozen!”

She was close. There were twenty dozen. Twenty dozen of the most beautiful red roses I’d ever seen taking up every inch of available desk/dresser/shelf/nightstand space in my room. Two hundred and forty flowers in all. My bedroom had been transformed into a full-on flower shop.

Zach gave me a dozen long stem roses on my birthday this year before we broke up. Those had been impressive. This was…this was…

“Crazy,” Cara whispered reverently as she completed my thought.

“I think he cleaned out every florist in Huntington Beach.”

Cara pulled her nose out of a bloom. “They’re
all
from Kyle?”

I sighed when Cara’s face light up. I knew what she was thinking. “V!” she squealed. “This is so insanely romantic! How can you still be mad at him?”

I handed her the card that had arrived with the truckload of roses. She read it out loud. “Shane said I had to apologize, so here goes... I’m sorry you’re mad at me. Love, Kyle. P.S. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you kissed me back.”

“Did you?” Cara asked automatically.

“Did I what?”

“Kiss him back?”

“No,” I said.

Cara folded her arms across her chest and waited for the truth.

“No!” I insisted. She still raised an eyebrow at me. “I don’t know, okay? Maybe. I was ambushed! It was a reflex!”

“Right,” Cara said with a sly smile I didn’t appreciate. “Just tell me one thing. Was it as hot as it seemed?” She handed me a stack of tabloids from her backpack. “Because it looked like you guys were on fire.”

Maybe. But even if we were, I was never going to admit it. Not to myself. Not to Cara. And definitely not to Kyle.

I sifted through the stack of magazines in my hand. All of them had my story on the cover. Most showed Kyle kissing me, but one had a picture of me slapping him. It was a good shot—very humiliating for Kyle. My lips quirked and Cara giggled. “That one’s my favorite too.”

“I think I’ll have it framed.”

Cara cracked my dark mood and we spent the next little while reading tabloids and magazines. When we had to leave for school there were still a handful of paparazzi waiting in my yard. They started filming and snapping pictures the minute we came outside, shouting questions at me that I refused to answer.

Cara pulled me to a stop next to her car and forced me to face my public. They were blocking her car from leaving the driveway. “Just smile,” Cara whispered. I forced a smile for her sake and she shouted, “All right. Take your stupid pictures and then get out of our way. I have no qualms about backing over anyone that makes us late for school. I am not getting detention because of you people.”

The reporters all laughed, and continued to snap their photos, but they skirted aside so that we could leave.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” I asked Cara as she drove away. “Thank you so much for being my best friend. I seriously would not survive this without you.”

I was trying to break the tension between us that my friendship with Robin had caused. Cara could tell, and even though she hadn’t forgiven me entirely, she sent me a begrudging smile and said, “You’re my girl, V. You know that.”

I did know that. I was more grateful for it than she’d ever know when she played the role of my guard dog all week.

I’m not sure who was more annoying, the paparazzi, or the students of Huntington High. All I wanted was a moment’s peace and I could never seem to get it. Even the teachers would pull me aside to chat when they saw me walking in the halls. Teachers who’d never even been
my
teacher.

By Friday things were starting to settle down. I’d fallen into a bit of a routine with my new life that consisted of new friends, a new boyfriend and my own annoying gaggle of groupies. Cara continued to pick me up for school, but Robin began driving me home because we had to spend a little time every afternoon trying to keep up with the website stuff.

Cara declined my offer to stay and work with us, but at least I’d managed to talk her into joining the A-list table with me at lunch. She’d wanted to keep sitting just the two of us like we always had, but we both realized it was better to sit with Stephanie and her clique.

The school seemed to accept my shift in popularity, and since the A-listers were as untouchable as ever, when I sat with them my groupies were too scared to approach me. Plus, Jeff and Mason were entertaining enough that I was never the topic of conversation among them. They were simply my friends now. Like Robin was, and like Cara always had been.

Lunch was starting to feel like the only time of day I felt somewhat normal. It was becoming my sanctuary. It figured Kyle Hamilton would choose that time to show up and wreak havoc on my life again.

I knew it was him when the cafeteria erupted into a chorus of shrieks and squeals. It took him a few minutes to push his way through the mob of giddy high school girls, but when people realized he was heading my direction they parted for him like the Red Sea, desperate to see what drama Kyle and I would create this time.