How had she caught us? No one else had been in the park. We’d made sure of it. Then I remembered the car that was parked up the road. My gaze shifted to the parking lot to find the same Volkswagen Bug sitting there. Damn.
I glanced at her, her brown eyes staring me down. “What are you going to do with this?”
“Well”—she turned the phone off and shoved it in her pocket, then smoothed down her Zelda T-shirt—“that depends on you.”
“Look, I’ll do anything. Please, just don’t show anyone.” My voice cracked. Great. I was showing weakness—which meant she’d probably pounce on me like a lion.
She nodded. “When’s your break? I—I don’t think we really want to go over all the details right here.”
No shit. I peered around the restaurant to make sure no one was within listening distance. I pulled my sleeve back to check my watch. “I get a break in about an hour.”
“Fine. I’ll wait here and eat my pizza.”
“It should be ready. I’ll bring it right out.” She glared, pinning me with her gaze. Damn, I’d really pissed her off. I wondered what would’ve happened if I’d actually shown for the interview. Would she have brought up the video? Or maybe this was about more than the video. I tried to think if I’d said or done anything else to her recently. But to be honest, she’d never really caught my eye before. I mean, I knew who she was, but we didn’t talk or anything.
As I put her food in a box for her, I thought about how much money I might have to bribe her. Crap. Was that what she wanted, money? Money I didn’t have. My last name might be Pressler, but we didn’t live in a mansion on the hill like my grandparents.
The next hour seemed to drag by. Every time I glanced up, I found Ayla watching me, and not in the adoring way that some girls did. When it was time for my break, I went to her table. “Okay, I’ve got fifteen minutes.”
“Right. Follow me.” She stood up, carrying her leftovers to the parking lot and to her car. She unlocked it, slid inside, then gestured for me to get in the passenger side.
My long legs didn’t fit very well in the small car, so I adjusted the seat back then turned to face her. “So, about the video?” I prompted. This could be the end of everything.
She cleared her throat and wrenched her hands together in her lap. She didn’t act as confident as she had when she’d shoved the phone in my face. Maybe she was having second thoughts. Which could save my ass. But then she opened her mouth.
“So did you watch the news this morning?” she asked.
“Um, no…” Where the hell was she going with this?
“According to the newscaster, the city has a no-tolerance policy for vandalism, and they’re going to investigate the ‘incident.’” She held up her fingers to make quotations. “They brought up what’d happened last year with Rick Barnhardt, who defaced school property and got expelled. He lost his wrestling scholarship to Western Michigan University, got fined, and had to do community service. And I got to thinking, you have a scholarship to a Big Ten school, don’t you?” She glanced at me.
Oh, shit. No. This couldn’t be happening. Unlike the rest of my friends, my mom couldn’t afford to put me through college. “I—I haven’t signed the letter of intent yet, but yes,” I whispered.
“You also know the Presslers, your family, are offering a reward for information regarding the vandalism. Bet they’d be pretty pissed to find out it was one of their own who defaced public property.”
Okay. I was screwed and in a big way. She had enough ammo to do some real damage.
“But here’s the thing. I could forget about this incident if you agreed to do something for me.” Her brow creased, face red.
“What would I have to do?” For all I knew she could want to use me for a sacrifice in a satanic ritual or maybe force me to do some gross chores at her house. But at this point, anything was better than going to jail or whatever.
“I—you’d have to pretend to be my boyfriend and help me win the school election,” she blurted out in a slur of words.
My mouth dropped open. “Wait, what?” Okay, not quite what I was thinking. But help her win the election? I wasn’t sure if that was even possible. “Jenna Lee always wins. No one has even dared run against her since, like, sixth grade.”
“I know. That’s why I need your help. People really like you. And if you were on board with my election, and we were a couple, then I’d get more votes. Look, if you do this for me, I’ll delete the video and pretend I never saw anything.”
I snorted. “And I’m supposed to trust that you’ll really get rid of it and not double-cross me?”
She gasped as if I’d offended her. “I wouldn’t do that. I mean, you act like I’m a criminal or something.”
“Well, you are trying to blackmail me,” I said with a shrug.
Her cheeks reddened even more, and she shoved her nerdy black glasses up on top of her head and rubbed her eyes. “Do you want to do this or not? Because if not, I really need a new story for the newspaper since you totally ditched me for the interview.”
I groaned. I didn’t really have a choice. If anyone found out about this, I’d lose a lot of stuff. There’d be court hearings, fines, and I could lose my basketball scholarship. Since the university coach could only give me a verbal offer until I signed the letter of intent in November, it’d be easy to take it back—and if I lost it, I wouldn’t be able to pay for school. Which meant I’d be stuck in this stupid-ass town, stuck in the shadow of a family name that I didn’t even want anymore. “Fine—but I need to know the terms of this—this whatever it is and when you want to start.”
Ayla smoothed a curl behind her ear and chewed her lip. She drummed her fingers against her steering wheel. At least it didn’t seem like she did this very often—she was as nervous as I was. “We start tomorrow. I need to make headway on the election front. And as far as terms, you’ll need to sit with me during some of our lunches—walk me to classes, maybe make a few public appearances. You know, like dates or something. But you have to make it believable. You can’t just stand there all mute and stuff. You also need to help me on my campaign, maybe talk to your buddies about voting for me.” She then turned her chocolate-brown eyes on me. “And I’d expect you to spread the word about our upcoming newspaper edition. It’d be nice to gain more readership. Maybe then Mr. Fairchild would let us do more meaningful stories. I promise we’ll only have to do this until after the election, which is a few weeks away. So it’s not that long.”
I ran a hand through my hair. Would I be able to pull this off? I gave her a once-over. It wasn’t like she was unattractive or anything. She just wasn’t the type of girl I normally dated. She was nerdy, kind of quiet—and didn’t care what anyone else thought. She was curvy and had long curly dark hair and a spattering of freckles across her face. She had potential. We’d had a couple of classes together over the years, but I don’t think we’d even really talked before this, or if we had, I didn’t recall. Not that I was a snob—we just didn’t run with the same crowds. But Ayla was pretty in a nonconventional way, and obviously smart. I could definitely do worse.
Jeez, was I really gonna do this? Hell, yes. Everything depended on it. So for the next few weeks, I would be Luke Pressler, Ayla Hawkins’s boyfriend.
“Luke?” She waved her hand in front of my face, and I realized she must’ve been trying to get my attention for a while.
This time I felt the blush rise on my face. “I’m in. But I’ll need more information on you if we’re going to do this.”
“Okay, tonight we can each draw up a list of our likes and dislikes—you know, get to know each other. Do you have your cell on you?” She shifted in the seat, lifting her hips enough to grab her phone from her jeans pocket.
“Yeah.” I grabbed mine from my pocket, too.
“What’s your number?”
I rattled it off and she programmed it into her phone. Then she took my cell from me and put hers into mine.
“All right, I t
hink we’re all set then.” She sighed. “I should probably let you get back to work now. Oh, and one more thing? You still owe me an interview. If I don’t get my article in tonight, I won’t have a story to go to print tomorrow.”
“Just send along the questions and I’ll do it as soon as I’m out of work.” I sat there awkwardly for another second. “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said and climbed out of the car. As she drove away, I wondered what I was getting myself into.
The one thing I could say for Ayla was she knew what she wanted, and she was willing to do anything to get it. Kind of like me. And right now, I wanted to avoid a criminal record. If a few kisses and smiles got me out of that, I’d do it.
Chapter Five
Ayla
Holy crap. I’d just blackmailed Luke Pressler. I’d really done it. My hands shook as I drove home. I couldn’t believe he’d actually agreed to it. But I didn’t have a choice. People like me didn’t win unless they had rich parents or they had no one to run against them. Or in my case, if they got one of the most popular guys in school to pretend to be their boyfriend.
When I got home, I parked my car in the driveway and followed the stone path to our large, yellow-and-white Victorian home. The porch wrapped around the whole house. A swing creaked back and forth beneath the gusts of wind. I inhaled deeply, catching the faint scent of fall lingering in the air.
Pushing inside, I called out, “I’m home.”
Mom came out of the living room, putting an earring in. “Hey, you’re late. Were you still planning on going out to listen to Dad’s band play tonight?”
“No, I’ve got homework,” I said.
My dad played in an Irish band called Bollocks and Beer. They did a lot of traditional Irish songs but also some original stuff, too. They were pretty good.
Dad’s parents had moved here from Ireland when he was two, and my grandpa had been very adamant about all his kids knowing their heritage and such. I’d gotten to visit some of our distant family in Dublin and Dingle two summers ago, which was totally awesome. The accents were freaking swoon-worthy. Um—not my relatives, but some of the local guys.
“I’ve left you a plate of food in the microwave. Ham and potatoes,” Mom said.
“Thanks, but I actually already ate,” I said.
She frowned. “Please don’t tell me you had pizza again, Ayla. It’s not healthy to eat like that all the time.”
I grinned. “I might’ve had a slice or two.”
“I swear, your grandparents think we’re the worst parents ever. You know how many times Grandma lectures me about not having sit-down meals?”
“I promise, I won’t go out for pizza tomorrow night, okay?”
“Fine. We won’t be too late.” Mom rushed toward the door. Dad followed close behind, carrying his guitar.
Once they were gone, I trudged upstairs to my room, which was in the large turret. My window overlooked our backyard and the flower garden below. I could actually see across most of the neighborhood from here. I plopped down in the window seat and grabbed my math.
But before I started on it, I took out my phone. Okay, time to come up with a list for Luke. Likes: drama club, movies, video games, singing, writing on the school paper, traveling, collecting nerdy T-shirts, pizza, and gardening. Dislikes: snotty people, censorship, anything made with fish, malls, and spiders.
When I finished, I texted it over to him, then switched over to check the drama club website to see if they had the cast list posted yet. Nervous, I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath and sent a silent prayer to whatever god or gods were listening.
I peeked out of one eye as the site filled my screen. Scrolling with my finger, I found the spot marked “Cast for Little Shop of Horrors.”
“Just look already.” I tapped the screen and waited for it to load. When it finally came up, I screeched. Oh. My. God. I got it. I got the lead part. I’d be playing Audrey! My eyes scrolled down the rest of the cast list. My friend Dre Kramer would be playing Seymour opposite me. Tom Ditwell would be playing the dentist. Chloe and Ray Maxwell would be working the large green plant, Audrey II.
I couldn’t believe it. Although it meant I’d have to kiss Dre. Which would be all sorts of weird, since he was one of my best friends.
I’d never had to kiss anyone before.
Right when I was ready to message Chloe, a text popped up from Luke. I opened it to find his list. Likes: movies, basketball, video games, singing, listening to music, collecting sports cards, hanging out with my little brother, cooking. Dislikes: my dad, snotty people, snakes, not having downtime.
Wow. We actually had a lot of things in common. Not sure why this surprised me so much, but I took him for some rich spoiled kid. Not someone who liked to cook or hang out with his brother. Unless he was lying and just giving me a BS list.
My fingers hit reply. Should we ride to school together tomorrow?
Luke: No. We can meet there. I’ll be waiting in the parking lot.
Okay. Well, here’s my class schedule so we can meet up between hours.
Luke: Got it. See you tomorrow.
Wait. You have to answer my questions for the interview. I’ll send over a short list.
Luke: Right. Sorry, I forgot. Can I read it before you put it in the paper?
I hesitated. The only people who ever read my stuff before we went to print were Chloe and Mr. Leaver. Besides, why the heck would he want to? I didn’t remember ever seeing him with a copy of the Eye of the Tiger.
Sure. But don’t be all judgy. I’d like to write other things, but Mr. Fairchild is really restrictive of the paper’s content.
Luke: No judging here. If you want, maybe I can talk to Fairchild for you. He really likes me.
Well. He hates me.
Luke: I’ll see what I can do. Good night.
Night.
Holy shit. So tomorrow I’d officially, or maybe unofficially, be Luke’s girlfriend. And I had no flipping clue how to act. Or maybe that was it, I was an actress—I could do this. Just pretend it was the biggest part I’d ever been given. Besides, I was doing this for more than just me.
…
After I got out of the shower, I searched my closet for something nice to wear. Chloe had told me no jeans or T-shirts today. Which sucked, because I had an awesome new Quidditch one I wanted to wear.
I chewed my lip, shoving my hangers back. Ah. Perfect. I tugged my Doctor Who dress out. The blue-and-white fabric looked like a TARDIS. I added a pair of black combat boots and a blue scarf and called it good.
My curls definitely needed some antifrizz serum. Once that was done, I slipped my glasses on, grabbed my backpack, and headed out to my car. When I pulled into the school lot, I searched for a parking spot. Luckily I found one that wasn’t in the back eighty.
Taking a deep breath, I slid from my vehicle. I scoured the parking lot for Luke. Maybe he’d decided to bail on me. Panic set in. Maybe I’d taken it too far. Maybe he thought jail time was better than having to pretend to be my boyfriend. Oh, God, I couldn’t even blackmail myself a boyfriend. But then I saw him, leaning against the building, waiting for me. My heart quickened as my gaze slid over his tall frame. He wore a dark blue sweater that made his already blue eyes even bluer. Like the type of eyes people wrote poetry about. His shaggy blond hair was tousled, giving him that dreamy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look. Even if I didn’t want to admit it, he was hot. As in steam-up-my-glasses hot. When he noticed me, I raised a hand and waved.
I bit back the nervousness and hurried toward him. “Hey,” I said.
“Morning.” He looked tired as he took my backpack from me and slung it over his shoulder. “Like the dress,” he said.
My face warmed. “Thanks.”
We walked the rest of the way to the school in silence. He held the door open for me, and I went in.
“You know, you could at least make it look like we’re talking or something. Otherwise, we just seem to be coming in at the same time,” I said.
&nb
sp; He blushed. “Sorry. This is kind of new, you know.”
Didn’t I? I was just hoping we could pull it off. Which meant we needed more interaction. “Me too. It’s not like I go around doing stuff like this all the time. I’ve never even had a boyfriend before. Well, until now. I guess.”
He quirked an eyebrow, tugging at the bottom of his sweater. “Okay, so let’s talk. How was your night?”
I smiled. A real, genuine one. “Pretty good. I found out that I got the lead role in the musical. And I got my article in before deadline.”
“That’s awesome. It was good, by the way. Your story, I mean.”
“You’re just saying that because I wrote about you,” I teased, then awkwardly adjusted my glasses. Was I flirting with Luke? God, I was bad at this. Did he think I was lame? Not that I cared what he thought.
“So what play are you in?”
“Little Shop of Horrors. It’ll be fun. I wish we could’ve done something better, but we don’t have the money to purchase new scripts and stuff.”
“That sucks.” He frowned, turning to stare down the hall.
“Yeah, it does. It’s one of the reasons I’m running for class president. I’m kind of hoping to be able to get more money budgeted for the arts departments, instead of always going toward sports. Well, there’s that and the fact that the newspaper might be cut altogether.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I mean, your basketball team got new uniforms, while the arts department hasn’t gotten to purchase anything new in like ten or twelve years. We just have to keep recycling all our old stuff.”
“Well, then, we should change that, shouldn’t we?” Luke said, this time glancing down at me.
His eyes were all sparkly. The kind of sparkly, perfect eyes you usually only saw on movie stars. Jeez, why was I so obsessed with his eyes today? Millions of people had blue eyes that sparkled.
“Yes.”
After we got to my locker, Luke helped me put my stuff away, then grabbed my books for first hour. People peered at us, whispering. They definitely noticed us.
As we walked toward class, his arm brushed against mine, and I glanced up at him. He casually reached for my hand and entwined his fingers through mine. My tummy did this twisty-jump thing as nervous flutters erupted. I took a deep breath, trying to regulate my heartbeat, which had suddenly leaped into my throat. Already my hand warmed where his skin touched mine.
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