“I would feel better if you had a security team or even just one person.” My mom’s voice is soft, and concern is etched into her features.
“We both would,” my dad adds from somewhere out of view.
We’ve had this same conversation so many times that I fight off the defensive feelings at their protectiveness. I know they mean well.
“Please do not ask me to reconsider hiring Grady again.” My old bodyguard is like an uncle to me, but I don’t want someone tailing me around campus. For the first time since I started acting and singing at age five, I’ve been able to live a normal life. Being at Valley U has given me that.
“Okay, but at the very least, let me arrange for the house to be wired with an alarm system and cameras.” Dad steps in next to Mom. His gray hair is windblown, and his shirt is missing a button. He’s the carefree, slightly scatterbrained artist (mostly sculpture) yin to my mom’s organized and always prepared yang. She spent years managing his art career and my acting and singing career. They are opposites in everything, but in total agreement on this.
To be honest, I’m surprised they aren’t digging in their heels on hiring personal security, but all of it feels like too much. Even an alarm. No one else here has an alarm system. Valley is a safe town in southern Arizona, and the college has a below-average crime rate. I know all this because it was part of the very argument I made to my parents when I applied to Valley U.
“I’m fine. Really. I’ve already told you I don’t want any of that. You don’t need to worry. Things are great here.”
My mom’s soft tone sharpens. “There are hundreds of new photos from last week alone, Jane. You can’t tell me that there aren’t paparazzi staked outside waiting every time you step out the front door. Your every move is being documented for the world to see.”
Since I’m sitting in the living room in front of the large window looking out to the street of my off-campus house I say, “I can tell you with one hundred percent honesty that there are currently no photographers outside my house. It’s lunchtime and even paparazzi have to eat.”
Mom lets out an exasperated sigh.
“I’m kidding, Mom. The paparazzi are harmless, and it’s calmed down since Christmas break. I promise I am being careful. We always lock the doors and I live with three other people. I’m perfectly safe.”
“I know you want to be like everyone else, honey, but you’re not. Your circumstances are different. You know better than most how easy it is for creeps to get access to your location and schedule when you’re in the public eye.” Dad gives me one of those smiles that doesn’t quite meet his eyes and my stomach starts to knot.
When I’m silent for too long, my mom adds, “We just want to keep you safe. If something happened to you . . .”
Her words trail off, but she doesn’t need to finish the sentence for my mind to run with a hundred different terrible scenarios. I know that I need to be careful and I am.
And yes, admittedly it did get a little out of hand last semester when I came out of hiding and revealed my past life to my friends and classmates. I dressed as my most famous character for a big Halloween party and then performed the theme song. I didn’t expect so many people to care that I’m not just Jane Greenfield, a regular girl attending Valley U, but also Ivy Greene, former child actress and singer.
I guess part of me hoped that people would care, but I never dreamed there’d be paparazzi staked out in front of the house for a glimpse of the childhood star in hiding—their words, not mine. So, there have been a lot of adjustments.
I went from a nobody on campus to someone that people want to know. If I were the kind of person that derived my self-worth from how others see me, this might be a total head game. But I learned at a young age that fame and popularity come and go on a whim. No one stays on top all the time, so the only way to survive that kind of rollercoaster is to always love yourself more than anyone else. But I’d be lying if I said I’m not enjoying it a little too. It feels good to be admired.
My roommate, Dahlia, comes downstairs with her golf bag looped over one shoulder. Her steps slow when she sees me on the phone.
“I gotta go,” I say. “I’ll call later this week.”
“Think about what we said,” my mom says pointedly. She and Dad share a look. “We would take care of everything.”
“I will,” I promise.
After we say our goodbyes, I hang up and drop my phone in my lap.
“Parents still worried about all the attention?” Dahlia asks, setting her bag down and then gathering her blonde hair back into a low ponytail.
“Yes. That article that dragged up all the shit with my stalker five years ago has them reliving it like it was yesterday.”
“I’m sorry,” my friend says with a sympathetic smile. “And I’m sorry you went through that. Tell Momma Greenfield that I’m on red alert. I’ve got your back.”
The sincerity of her words means more than she’ll ever know. Dahlia is the best friend I’ve ever had. It’s crazy to think that I’ve known her less than two years.
I’m still soaking up her kindness when a familiar dark head catches my attention outside.
“Oh, there he is,” I say, sitting a little taller so I’ll have a better view of the cute guy who runs by our house every day. Always during my lunch break at precisely noon, and always looking too good to be true.
His hair is a dark brown, a little longer on top with a hint of curl. Today he’s in black athletic shorts and a gray T-shirt that stretches over his broad chest and muscular arms. His body speaks to hours spent in the gym. It’s hard to tell how tall he is, but I’m guessing he’s at least six foot three.
“Did you figure out if he goes to Valley or not?” Dahlia asks once my hottie mystery guy disappears out of sight.
“Not definitively, but I did see him in the parking lot behind University Hall one night as I was leaving a study group late.” Or I think it was him. It was dark and I was hurrying to my car since I was alone. “And he’s not at work at noon on a Monday, so I think it’s likely. Unless he’s unemployed. Or maybe he’s a model.” He looks like he could be a model.
“He could work nights. The campus health building is nearby.”
I nod thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s a doctor.”
“Kind of young to be a doctor.”
“A prodigy in the body of a god. Seriously, have you ever seen a hotter guy?”
She hums and gets this dreamy look on her face that she only gets when talking about her boyfriend. “I have, actually.”
“You know, they say love is blind but now I think I’m finally seeing it in action.”
Dahlia narrows her gaze at me. She’s sweet as can be until you talk smack about someone she loves, and she is madly in love with her boyfriend Felix.
“I’m kidding,” I say with a small laugh. “Felix is gorg, of course, but this guy . . . he just runs by, and I feel a little breathless. I might need to take up a lunchtime jogging hobby. Do you think I can still catch him?”
“You hate running.” She arches one brow at me while wearing an amused expression.
“Hated. Past tense. It’s me and my new boyfriend’s favorite hobby.”
“You’re too much.” My best friend’s smile widens. “I gotta go to practice. Do not chase after him.”
Dahlia grabs her golf clubs and heads out the front door.
“How else am I going to find out my boyfriend’s name?” I call after her.
By the time I head back to campus, the sun has gone behind the clouds, and it’s started to rain. As annoyed as I am about being caught without an umbrella or hat to keep my hair from getting drenched, I am so thankful to be here at college that I don’t speed up my pace.
I love being here. The buildings, the people, the freedom, all of it. The conversation with my parents just reminded me why I am fighting so hard to keep my life as normal as possible. This is my second chance to have some of the experiences I missed out on by not attending regular schools as a kid.
The library doors open as I approach. I run my fingers through my wet hair as I head upstairs to the second floor. It seems lots of people had the same idea to get inside and out of the rain and most of the tables are already taken.
While I continue across the floor searching for somewhere to sit, I hear my name being shouted over the hushed voices of the quiet library.
“Jane!”
I slow my steps and turn, but only because it’s polite. I could pick out Valley U’s Panhellenic Council President Paris Shultz’s voice anywhere. Her skin is flawless, and the smile that she flashes at me is so bubbly and happy that I feel bad for wishing I could figure out how to blow her off without being rude.
“Jane,” she says a touch more softly as she falls into step beside me. “Is it Jane or should I be calling you Ivy now?”
“Jane is fine.” I drop my backpack onto a free table. I don’t sit because I’m afraid she’ll take that as an invitation to do the same. “What’s up?”
She levels me with a no-nonsense expression, somehow still maintaining that wide smile. “I got the council to extend my deadline to find a performer. What do I have to do to get you to say yes to being my headliner at the Spring Fling?”
It isn’t the first time, or even the tenth, that she’s asked. She is as relentless as she is beautiful.
The Spring Fling is a student-run carnival that happens in April each year. The different organizations and groups across campus have booths to raise money. Everyone goes to it. Everyone. It’s one of the few events that somehow manages to appeal to all. And on the last night, there’s a concert.
“I’m so sorry. Like I said before, I’m not doing any shows right now, so I can focus on school. I’d love to participate in one of the booths or setup, whatever you need.”
“What I need is an amazing main act for the concert. You would be perfect.” She backs up a step as I open my mouth to tell her no (again). “Please don’t answer now. Just think about it. Really think about it.”
Why does everyone think I need time to mull over my every decision? I know that I don’t want extra security and I know that I don’t want to perform at the annual Valley U Spring Fling.
I sigh as she disappears without taking no for an answer. My mom and Paris are far more exhausting than the photographers that sometimes camp outside my house waiting to take my picture.
I slip in my ear buds and pull out my laptop to work on an assignment for French class. I started college a year later than I could have because I was still floundering trying to figure out what I was going to do with my life. I should be a junior but I’m a sophomore. It sucks being behind. I’m taking eighteen credit hours this semester in an attempt to catch up, and a few weeks in, I’m already questioning that decision. There’s so much homework and studying, and those have never been my favorite things.
I’m deep in concentration mode when a shadow falls over my table. I glance up, smiling when I see Cam in front of me. I recognize a few of his teammates standing back watching our interaction.
Cameron Payton is a baseball player that I’ve had a crush on since I arrived at Valley U. I have a type and he fits it. Tall, dark hair, built, and deliciously cocky. Cam didn’t pay a lot of attention to me until he found out I was Ivy, but neither did half the campus so I’m trying not to hold it against him.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says as I remove one ear bud.
My insides light up at the compliment. “Hey, Cam.”
He pulls out the chair across from me and then nods to his friends and lets them know he’ll catch up. When he’s seated, he leans forward on his elbows. “What are you working on?”
“An assignment for next week.”
“You’re working on an assignment that’s not due until next week?” Both brows rise toward the backward hat on his head.
“I’m trying to stay on top of assignments this semester,” I say and close my laptop. “How are you? How was your break?”
“It was chill. Good to see the family and all that, but I’m glad to be back.” He sits back in his chair. He has this confidence and ease in his every movement. “I thought about you while I was gone.”
“You did?” A surprised smile curls my lips.
He nods. “Yeah, I was kicking myself for that time we were supposed to hang out and I didn’t make it.”
What he means is the night he told me he’d see me at a Theta party and then didn’t show. It was days later when I ran into him on campus that he finally apologized and said he’d gotten roped into going out with some of his teammates and then couldn’t find a sober ride to get to the party later. As excuses go, it was pretty average for guys my age, but I appreciated that he owned up to it.
And I’m even more pleased now that he’s still regretting that decision. “Serves you right. I’m a great time.”
“I bet you are.” His blue eyes take on a mischievous glint. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I don’t have any plans,” I say before I remember I should probably play it cool. I’ve never been good at that. When I like someone, they know it.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
Umm . . . excuse me? “You’ll pick me up for what?”
“To hang out, of course.” He smirks.
“Like a date?” I ask, slowly dragging out each word.
He gives his head a small shake like he doesn’t think he needs to explain his intentions.
“Sorry. I just assumed I’d know if someone was asking me out.”
“You’re funny,” he says. “Go out with me tonight.”
It’s still not really a question, but I’m not going to keep berating him until he changes his mind. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds amazing.”
“Perfect.” He stands and hits me with a wink. “See you tonight, beautiful.”
Once he’s out of sight, I finally let out a quiet little squeal of excitement. I know there won’t be any studying happening now, so I pack up my stuff and hurry down the steps of the library. My friends are all busy, but I fire off a text anyway because I need to tell someone.
My nose is buried in my phone as I push through the doors and step back out into the rain. I glance up seconds before I collide with a girl carrying a large umbrella and coming straight at me. I move to the side at the same time she brings the umbrella down, swatting me with it unintentionally.
The bump throws me off balance and then I slip on the wet sidewalk. I feel my feet go out from underneath me and squeeze my eyes shut as I brace for impact on the ground.
Instead, strong arms catch my fall. My eyelids flutter open slowly as I float above the ground. The most beautiful hazel eyes I’ve ever seen stare down at me through thick lashes. Only the scowl on his face detracts from his handsome features.
The back of my head rests against his shoulder and I realize he’s holding most of my weight, but I’m not in any hurry to stand upright.
“It’s you,” I say, still locked onto his stunning eyes. His dark brows pull together, and his mouth is set in a straight line. His jawline is a work of art. He’s even hotter up close. Broodier, but hotter. “I mean, I recognize you. You run by my house every day. I’m Jane.”
He moves us so I’m standing on my own two feet instead of swooning in his arms, steadies me and then steps away. “Careful where you’re walking, Jane.”
The girl with the umbrella starts apologizing profusely. I give her my attention long enough to assure her I’m fine, and when I turn back to him, he’s already disappeared into the rain.
