Invisible

So spending two hours there with Scott wasn’t exactly a hardship. Then again, I could go into the bookstore with anyone and leave smiling. Even two noxious Notables like Fake and Bake. Still, I was surprised to find myself relaxing as we discussed the merits of movie adaptations of our favorite books, especially when I accidentally told him about my love of romance novels.

I hadn’t intended to mention it, but once my little secret was out, there was no taking it back. Scott wouldn’t let it go. He kept prodding at me until I confessed that I’d been hooked ever since Elle handed one to me in the Portland airport. She hadn’t exactly done it selflessly—I think her exact words were, “Read this and shut up already!” but she definitely succeeded in distracting me. Unfortunately, I became so paranoid that all my fellow travelers knew what I was reading, I couldn’t handle even skimming the sexy parts in public.

That’s when Scott laughed and asked if I still skipped over them.

I declined to answer.

I also completely forgot about the concert until Scott reminded me, by which time the threat of rain had materialized into a reality with fat droplets splattering against the sidewalk.

“Um, yeah. Give me a second to change and then we’ll—”

Scott didn’t even give me a chance to finish my sentence. He just grinned and started walking toward his car, leaving me torn between changing in the Powell’s bathroom and getting a ride to the concert. Not much of a choice, since I seriously doubted Scott would stick around waiting for me and I couldn’t afford a cab. So I scurried right behind him, shivering in my stupid little skirt while the rain plastered my hair against my face. Elle would probably say that I looked like a drowned rat.

Not quite what I was aiming for when I woke up that morning.

The instant Scott unlocked his car doors, I crawled inside and began pawing through my bag of spare clothes. “Close your eyes.”

He narrowed them instead. “Why?”

I toed off my shoes, hoping that tugging on jeans over the tights would help me warm up.

“Most people prefer to pull on more layers in private. Strange, isn’t it? It’s a total mystery to me why some people don’t want to be caught with their pants around their ankles.”

“It’s a little late for you to start worrying about your image.” Scott appeared utterly unfazed by my sarcasm, but at least he shut his eyes. “Especially after your audition for the musical.”

“I’m trying to forget that ever happened.” I yanked and wiggled until my jeans slid up past my nonexistent boyish hips, where I should’ve been able to button them if my skirt stopped flopping in the way. “But thanks for that reminder.”

He began to drum impatiently against the steering wheel. “You know, in Powell’s they have these remarkable things called bathrooms. Completely private areas. It’s amazing how far society has come.”

“I didn’t realize it would be this wet outside.”

“It’s Portland.”

“Thanks for the geography lesson. I also don’t ever wear tights.” My unbuttoned skirt pooled on the floor as I swapped out my shirt in two fluid movements. I only did it because I thought that the layer of steam from the warm air now filling the car provided sufficient privacy from the outside world . . . and because even if Scott peeked, my bra was far less scandalous than most bikini tops. “Done.”

Scott wasn’t in any hurry to start the car now. “You look more like the girl I first met.”

I shrugged. “That’s because this was the only outfit in my closet preapproved by Corey before Kenzie’s YouTube video changed everything.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious.”

I glared at him. “Meaning what, exactly? That I need my friends to dress me?”

The pathetic part was that I did need Corey, or Elle, or someone telling me what not to wear; otherwise I would settle for my favorite sweatshirt and a baseball cap. But everyone really needed to stop giving me a hard time about it.

It’s not like I was incapable of dressing myself.... I just couldn’t do so fashionably.

“Wow. I guess I struck a nerve.”

“Shut up, Scott.”

“Since you’ve got body-image issues, you probably shouldn’t continue modeling professionally.”

I rolled my eyes. “And I had my heart set on a modeling career. I guess this means I’ll never walk a runway with two million dollars’ worth of diamonds on my bra. Such a shame.”

Scott pulled out into the line of traffic. “Every now and then you can be pretty entertaining, Grammar Girl.”

I decided to take that as a compliment.

But even at my most outrageous, no way could I compete with the sheer chaos of being backstage at a concert. Lighting technicians and assistants sprinted around double-checking things before waving their arms and yelling about the placement of the amps.

Madness.

By the time we navigated the craziness and found the ReadySet room we were fifteen minutes late. Not that anyone had worried. Corey and Tim both looked deliriously happy on the couch where they were snuggling, so they must have figured out a way to make the whole long-distance thing work. The other guys in the band, Dominic and Chris, were laughing with Kenzie and Logan as if the four of them had been best friends for years. I instantly felt like a total third wheel. Fifth wheel, really, since both of my best friends looked so . . . couple-y. But I just stood there while Scott snapped pictures of my obvious discomfort.

Great.

“Scott,” I muttered. “I’m begging here. Photograph someone else.”

He snapped one last shot of me before taking stock of the scene.

“They really seem like a unit.”

I had wondered how long it would take for him to comment on Corey and Tim as a couple. The way that Corey was resting his head on the rock star’s shoulder was something of a giveaway. Still, I didn’t intend to make that line of questioning easy for him.

“Who do you mean?” I asked innocently.

“Kenzie and Logan.”

“Mackenzie.” My instinctive correction surprised even me, but I couldn’t let it go without comment. “Kenzie’s my private nickname for her.”

“Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“It’s just . . . we’ve been best friends since elementary school. It’s our thing.”

That’s when Kenzie spotted us.

“You made it, Jane!” She smiled gratefully at Scott. “Thanks for giving her a lift. I completely forgot to confirm with you about the ride situation.”

Scott smiled back at Kenzie, without a hint of the smugness I always saw when he looked at me, but he didn’t say a word. Probably because he expected me to start filling Kenzie in on all the details of my date. I would’ve confessed everything if I knew how to do it with even a modicum of subtlety.

Hey, I would’ve mentioned it earlier, but none of you were listening.... I just had a date with a superhot guy! And he honestly seems to like me, even though our chemistry was a little bit off.

Okay, truthfully, it was kind of like dating your little brother, Dylan.

Yeah, that would have been real subtle.

Even when Logan walked over and slung an arm around my shoulder, I kept my mouth shut.

“Let’s get you a drink, Jane.”

Then he steered me over to the selection of soda cans on the table. Clearly, Smith High School’s hockey captain didn’t plan on letting me anywhere near the hard stuff.

Not that I actually wanted any alcohol . . . just the option.

“I don’t trust that guy,” Logan muttered, when we were safely out of earshot. “He watches you too much.”

There was no point in explaining that was Scott’s job as school photographer, since no excuse was going to satisfy Logan. Not when he clearly thought of me as a geeky little sister in need of defending.

So instead of patiently trying to make him come around to the situation, I grinned. “Are you trying to protect me?”

Logan’s expression became panic-stricken when he realized there was no right answer. Either he lied or he implied I couldn’t take care of myself; either way he was treading in dangerous waters. “Er . . . maybe? Yes.”

“Yes, you want to protect me?”

He squared his shoulders as if bracing for the full-blown rant that Kenzie would’ve delivered. I figured the guy already knew he was being a bit on the overprotective side, but I decided to let it slide. This time.

“That’s right.”

“Looks like Kenzie snagged the last decent guy at our high school,” I mock sighed. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to run away with me instead?”

He ruffled my hair like we’d been hanging out for years instead of weeks. That’s just part of Logan’s charm. The guy can defuse tension in any social encounter—a good skill to have when your girlfriend is famous for being America’s Most Awkward Girl.

I couldn’t resist messing with him, though. Just a little bit.

“Maybe you should set me up with one of your friends. Is . . . I dunno, Spencer seeing anyone?”

Somehow Logan managed to pale even faster than my dad had over the condom in my backpack. “Oh hell no. That’s never going to happen.”

“Why not?” I teased. “Am I not his type?”

“Spencer’s type is female,” Logan said, confirming all my suspicions about his best friend. “You, however, are off-limits.”

“And why is that?”

Logan stared at me in disbelief. “Because he’s not looking for anything even remotely serious, and you’re . . . uh . . . you?”

I laughed even though I no longer found the situation funny.

Other people could look for something fleeting and fun, but not me. I was automatically disqualified before I could even decide if I wanted to play. It didn’t matter that I didn’t actually want to date Spencer.... It was the principle of the thing.

I wanted somebody to tell me what they thought I couldn’t handle.

And then I wanted to prove them wrong.