“Are you sure? It would be understandable if you did. I mean, he was your first real boyfriend.”
“No, he was a guy I dated briefly in high school. My first real relationship is going to be mature. And thoughtful. And not with some pretty, egotistical pop-rocker.”
I think of Oliver and have to bite my tongue. I’m usually pretty good at keeping secrets, but I’d also like to think that Joni might feel differently if she knew about his feelings for her. Somehow, I’m able to fight the desire to spill everything that Oliver told me the night before. But just barely.
“That might be the case,” I say, taking a seat next to her, “but it still could have hurt your feelings, you know, when it ended.”
“Mel... Come on. You know I don’t like talking about stuff like this.”
“I know. But sometimes you need to talk about it. Otherwise you carry it all inside and it just sits there, taking up space in your mind that could be used for more important things.” Like the cute British guy who is head over heels for her.
Joni looks at me and the corner of her mouth lifts into a half-smile. “You should be a therapist.”
“I’d love that. I could get paid to talk,” I smile. The truth is I would make a terrible therapist. I’m far too obsessive, analytical, and, let’s be honest here, neurotic to ever qualify for a job in the mental health industry.
“You should start with Cory,” Joni quips.
“Unfortunately, I think infatuation is the most socially acceptable form of insanity,” I tell her. “It’s also probably the most common.”
“Yeah,” she says shortly. Then she stares back down at her tablet.
“So... Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
She looks back at me, her eyes softer and somehow lighter than usual. It’s not hard to see why Oliver has a crush on her. She really is beautiful, with brown hair that falls in soft curls around her face, even when most of it is clipped up, and big green eyes that give her a look of innocence, kind of like a Disney Princess.
The thing is, she doesn’t want people to see her as beautiful or innocent or any of that. She wants to be admired for her intelligence, her drive, and her accomplishments, not her looks. She was like that even before she started dating Jesse. It’s something I’ve always respected and admired about her.
But I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t make my day every time a guy tells me he thinks I’m pretty.
Finally, Joni sighs. “I’m not still hung up on Jesse. At least, not in the way Cory thinks. I don’t want him back. I’m not secretly longing for him to come ravish me in the middle of the night. I just... I want to be okay with him. And I’mnot. And I don’t, for one second, want him to think that he messed me up so badly that I’m afraid to open up or share my feelings with anyone on the off chance that he’ll figure it out. And I can’t give him that kind of satisfaction. I just can’t.”
“Joni, I don’t think Jesse is proud of what he did to you,” I tell her. “I think he respects you and I think he really is sorry that he hurt you. He just wasn’t ready for a commitment, you know? Like you said, it wasn’t like you two were engaged or in a long-term serious relationship. You just dated in high school. Most high school relationships don’t last.”
“I know,” she says. “And you’re right. I know he felt bad about it. I’ve just had a hard time forgiving him.”
“That’s okay. I still haven’t forgiven Sam for telling me that we all have microscopic mites living on our eyelashes.”
“That’s gross.”
“I know, right? He told me that in eighth grade and it still gives me nightmares.”
Joni smiles at me. “Thank you.”
“What for?” I ask.
“For being a good friend.” Then, she gathers up her iPad and her bag and stands up. “Come on. Let’s go shoot a music video.”
⋯
I don’t actually get a chance to talk to Oliver about our newfound relationship until we break for lunch. Even then, it’s not much of a real conversation because we’re surrounded by his bandmates who all find the situation totally hilarious. Josh, especially.
“I wish you two had told us you wanted to be alone. We would have reserved you your own private room,” he snickers.
“Oh will you pleaseshut it?” Oliver snaps. Thankfully, he’s just as unamused as I was earlier this morning.
“Hey, maybe Mel could star in our next music video. We could put her on a balcony and have Oliver sing to her,” Jesse grins, getting in on the action. Sometimes, he tries so hard to be funny. He’s just not.
“Or maybe we could have them on an ocean liner, holding each other and looking out over the waves!” Josh adds.
“I kind of want to see them pull off that one move fromDirty Dancing,” Sam grins.
“I hate you all,” I mutter, taking a swig of soda. I’m just glad that neither Cory nor Joni is here for this conversation. I’m not sure where they are, but I’m hoping they’re talking things out.
“I do, too,” Oliver agrees with me.
“Aw, see? You’re so perfect together,” Josh laughs and draws a stupid heart in the air with his fingers.
“Josh, I’m warning you,” I threaten, but of course, I’ve got nothing. I’m not devious or quick enough to actually come up with anything good. Besides, Josh knows no boundaries. Once, in high school, he set three chickens loose in the courtyard. They were all wearing signs that read#1,#3, and#4. I cannot tell you how long the faculty and staff spent searching for chicken #2 before they figured out that it didn’t exist.
You see, that is why all threats I make toward Josh Cahill are totally and completely empty. I fear retaliation, especially from him.
“Don’t worry, Mel. I’ve already sent out a tweet explaining that this is all just a false rumor,” Oliver assures me.
“Aw, why?” Josh asks.
“Josh, are you becoming a fangirl?” I ask.
“No. It was kind of entertaining though, reading all the different opinions on it. And seeing how twitchy it makes the two of you.”
“You’re a terrible human being,” Oliver says.
“But I’m so cute!” Josh protests. “Just the other day, a fan tweeted that she wanted to cuddle up with me by a fire in matching onesie pajamas. If that isn’t adorable, I don’t know what is.”
“Josh in a onesie. Quick, someone fetch the brain bleach,” Sam remarks.
“So, are people actually responding to what you said?” I ask Oliver.
“Most are. Some are disappointed. Some are convinced that we’re just not ready to go public yet. But honestly, I don’t think anyone’s really surprised, you know, considering the source,” Oliver replies.
“You mean Tara?” Jesse asks through a mouthful of turkey sandwich.
“Yeah,” I say.
“This year for Christmas, I’m getting all of us matching onesies,” Josh announces. This results in a group-stare from Jesse, Oliver, Sam, and me. I honestly have no idea what exists in that massive space in between Josh’s ears, but I’m fairly certain it’s not a functioning human brain.
“What the heck is wrong with you?” Sam asks.
“Where do I begin, brother?” Josh asks and downs the last of his bottled water. Josh doesn’t drink soda. He says that the carbonation makes his tongue hurt. And yet, he has about twenty tattoos. Don’t those make your skin hurt?
Josh is a strange bird.
By now, our lunch break is just about over so we clear our trash away and prepare for the final stretch of shooting. We got all of the sunset and nighttime shots filmed yesterday, so the guys just need to finish up the daytime bits (which are, incidentally, for the first half of the video), and it will be a wrap.
I’m not filming, today. Instead, I’m taking photographs of the guys and the set for their website, publicity, social media, what have you.
As I’m checking the camera to make sure I have the proper batteries, memory cards, and lenses, I hear a high pitched squeal somewhere
off to my right. I glance up and am horrified to see Cory, spinning a delighted Tara Meeks around in his arms. She’s laughing and shrieking about something that will probably ruin my day, but I try to ignore her and go back to my equipment check.
It’s rather difficult to ignore someone, however, when they’re suddenly hovering over your shoulder.
“Melinda, hi,” she greets me. Well, at least Melinda is closer to Melissa than Meredith or Joni. We are making progress, it seems. “Listen, Cory told me that you were a little upset this morning about what I tweeted and I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to step on any toes.”
Usually, I’m the kind of person who shrugs things off without much fuss. No harm done. Water under the bridge. Oh, I know you didn’t mean any harm. That sort of thing.
So it’s pretty uncharacteristic of me to respond with, “Tara, you didn’t step on my toes. You told a flat out lie about me. To the entire world.”
Her big, mascaraed eyes widen. This was clearly not the reply she was expecting.
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? I mean, what was I supposed to think? You and Oliver looked awfully cozy last night, huddled together in that corner.”
“You also saw me curled up in a blanket with Sam last week but I didn’t see any Hot New Couple Alerts then,” I remind her.
“Well, he’s Sam. I mean, come on. If he wasn’t interested in Courtney, he’s definitely not going to be interested in you.”
I don’t know what’s more offensive: the idea that I’m not good enough for Sam or what she seems to be insinuating about Oliver. What, Sam can afford to be picky but Oliver can’t? Oliver has about a fifth of the world’s young female population falling at his feet.
I swear, everything about this girl makes me want to slap her.
“Wow,” I finally say. “You know, Tara, you are really something. Tell me, are you always this bitchy, or is it something you save for your boyfriend’s coworkers?”
Oh my God.
What have I done? I’ve never said anything like that in my life! I’m supposed to be the nice one! The good girl who never gets in trouble! I don’t pick fights! And I definitely don’t stand up to Queen Bees like Tara Meeks. My mouth is doing that thing where it totally bypasses my brain and says whatever the heck it wants.
Oh, this issonot the time or place for this.
“What did you just say to me?” Tara hisses.
I’m not going to lie. I’m terrified. But somehow, I manage to stand my ground.
“Look, I don’t know you, and you clearly don’t care about knowing me or else you’d at least make a tiny effort to remember my name. But you seem really clueless to me, especially when it comes to treating Cory, his friends, and most importantly, his fans with respect.”
Tara looks flabbergasted, if not utterly dumbfounded.
“I can not believe I actually came over here to apologize to you,” she sneers.
“Yeah, neither can I. Frankly, you weren’t very good at that either.”
Whathas gotten into me? I promise you, I am not this person! Something about her is just bringing out the absolute worst in me. I don’t like it at all.
But I also don’t really want to stop it.
Tara, meanwhile, is positively seething. She also seems to be calculating, trying to figure out a way to let me know that I’ve messed with the wrong model.
“I don’t know who you think you are, but let me put things in perspective for you,” she says, her blue eyes cool and narrow. “I’m dating one of the world’s biggest stars. You clean up after him. I have thousands of fans and followers all over the world. You have a camera and a nose that’s too long for your lopsided face. People recognize me as someone they want to be. Those same people don’t even know that you exist. So if I were you, I’d keep those snarky comments and lousy attitude to myself, because you have no idea what I could do to you.”
For those wondering, being threatened by a super model is a lot scarier than you’d think it’d be. But I’m not about to let her think she’s won or succeeded in her efforts to belittle me.
However, before I can dig myself into an even deeper hole, Stan calls over that they’re about to start shooting and that I need to get a move on. Even though I didn’t get the last word in, I’m only too eager to get away and have nothing more to do with Tara Meeks.
I only hope that the feeling is mutual.
CHAPTER 12
“And she walks like winter across the room
And I can smell her sweet perfume
Snowlight dancing, frozen blue
Winter’s dress looks good on you
The Northern Lights, they shine for you
This winter night was made for two...”
Song: “Snowlight”
Artist: The Kind of September
From the Album:Meet Me on the Midway
Tonight, I just want to be alone.
I’ve spent what should have been a fun and exciting afternoon wallowing in guilt over what I said to Tara.
No, not guilt. Guilt would imply that I care about how what I said may have affected her, and I’m a bit ashamed to admit that I don’t. I guess that’s what I’m feeling right now. Shame. I’m ashamed that I stooped to her level. I’ve never been that kind of person, you know? I don’t say things like that, no matter how upset I am. But I’m so sick of her spreading rumors and I’m especially sick of everyone else acting like it’s okay.
I haven’t had the guts to face Cory. I’m sure Tara’s told him everything that happened. I think Sam knows something is bothering me, but they were called in for a last minute radio interview after filming wrapped, so I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to him. Besides, he and the guys have got to be exhausted. They don’t need to be dealing with drama, especially drama that I created.
That’s what’s bothering me the most. This is so unlike me! I don’t stir up drama. Especially with people like Tara who specialize in it.
But what’s done is done. Maybe I can apologize to Cory. That is, if he’s still talking to me. I bet you anything Tara has gone crying to him, telling him how mean I am and how I deserve to be excommunicated.
To be honest, I’ve kind of enjoyed having a few hours all to myself. I took a long shower. I painted my toenails. I plucked my eyebrows. I basically treated myself to an at-home makeover. It was nice. So often on the road and behind the scenes, I don’t pay much attention to what I wear or how I look.
Now I’m alone in Joni’s and my hotel room, lounging on the bed and watchingTitanic. True, it’s not the best movie to watch when I’m already feeling a little sad, but at least it’s quality. That’s all that really matters.
About halfway through the movie, someone knocks on the door. It’s probably Joni, though it’s not like her to forget her key.
When I open the door, however, Joni isn’t the one standing there. It’s Sam.
“Hey,” I greet him. It’s funny. You’d think right about now, I’d be fighting an impulse to run to the bathroom to check my reflection and make sure I look alright, but I’m not lying to you when I say Sam and I have seen each other at our absolute worst. He stuck by me after my wisdom teeth extraction, and I camped out with him on his couch after he came down with a terrible case of food poisoning. The fact that I came out of that situation still totally infatuated is, quite frankly, a miracle. Seriously, if I saw any other guy puke into a trash can beside the sofa, I’d be gone likethat.
Long story short, the only reason I’m blushing right now is because Sam showed up unexpectedly. Not because he caught me in my pajamas and post-shower hair.
Sure enough, he comments, “You look cozy.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Just kind of having a relaxing evening. How was the interview?”
“It was fine. Just talked about the album. Had a few laughs.”
“That’s good,” I say. I’m hesitant to ask Sam if Cory said anything about Tara, because I’m honestly not sure if I want to know the answ
er. But I also know that I probably won’t be able to face Cory until I find out if he’s upset. “So uh... Did Cory say anything? You know, about anything that may have happened this afternoon?”
“You mean the thing where you accused Tara of being a very non-family-friendly word, a liar, and an all around horrible human being? Yeah, he may have mentioned it.” He says, leaning casually against the doorframe.
“Is he mad at me?”
“Well, Tara definitely is. But you know Cory. He’s on everybody’s side. He told her he was certain you didn’t mean it and said that you were just looking out for Oliver.”
“God, he gives me way too much credit.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Sam remarks. I throw him a look. “Kidding! To tell you the truth, I’m kind of proud of you.”
“Why?” I mean, I’m glad to hear it, but I don’t understand it. I’m not proud of me.
“I think there’s a time and a place for everything. I think you know when something needs to be said and when you need to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself. And I think that something needed to be said to her. Maybe notexactlythe words you used...” Sam does not like cursing. It’s funny, because he is such a guy in so many ways, but unlike his bandmates, three of whom swear like sailors, he prefers nicer words. “But the overall gist, I think she needed to hear. I don’t think she really sees any of us as real people.”
“I don’t think she does either.”
And that brings any and all talk of Tara Meeks to a close. It’s for the best. I’m sick of thinking about her.
“So, is this your big plan for the evening? Sit around and watch sad girl movies all by yourself?”
“Pretty much.”
“That sounds like a terrible night. You know what you should do? Go with me to Josh’s room for a game night.”
“A game night?” I ask.
“Yeah. On our way back from the interview, a few fans approached us and gave Josh all these games, like Twister and Monopoly so he and Jesse and Oliver decided to host an impromptu game night. Now just try to convince me that that doesn’t sound like more fun than watching what might actually be the most depressing movie in history.”
Boy Band Page 10
