Page 48 of For The Record

Translation: you’re special, Skye Holland.Is that what I want to be? Someone who’s important to him? Someone whom he trusts with all these secrets? It feels like a burden, like an honour.

“I don’t talk about mine a lot, either,” I say, and briefly picture a twelve-year-old Leo, taking an oversized Patek Philippe from his father, watching his mother go down the aisle. A little sad, a little uncertain, a lot happy. “What’s so bad about them?” he asks, sipping his milkshake through a red and white paper straw.

I shrug. “They’re a little… dysfunctional.”

“What family isn’t?” he says.

“You have a point,” I say with a shrug, twisting the stem of the maraschino cherry around my finger. “I guess they’re just really… intense. And they like to gossip.”

“Intense in what way?” His green eyes burrow into mine and refuse to let up. Try as I might to tear myself away, I’m hooked. So much for casual. I really am lying to myself.

“Intensely good at making me feel bad about myself,” I say. “You ever meet people like that? Try living with them.”

“Your father is a director,” he states. “And your older siblings are also in the film industry.”

“Connect the dots and it begs the question, what am I doing in publicity?” I say with a shrug. I try to be ironic. Is it working? Or is it coming off more asboo-hoo, poor little rich girl?

“It’s admirable to try to branch out from your family,” he says. “Better than staying in something that you’re being pressured into.”

Heat rises to my face as I wipe condensation off of my glass instead of replying. “If I could be in acting, I would. My family makes it look so easy. Even my stepmother, Heidi, has something she’s good at. Cooking. Me? If I could have any talent, a drop of what they have, I’d be out there, waiting tables by day and going to auditions by night. But I don’t. The gene skipped me, so here I am, selling someone else’s records and managing someone else’s image.”

Leo is silent, but his hand covers mine moments later. “Black sheep, huh?”

“My brother never lets me forget it.” I flip my palm upwards, lacing my fingers through his. It’s true. When I threw up at an elementary school talent show, I wasn’t worried about other students’ mockery, but his. And his was pretty damn awful.

He stares pensively into his half-empty milkshake. “At least yours remembers you exist.”

Immediately, I feel bad for even opening my mouth about my family. “You’re right… I have nothing to complain about.”

“No, no, you do. We all do. There’s no spectrum of pain, Skye. Yours doesn’t go away just because someone else’s is worse.” Leo finishes his milkshake, sliding it across the table.

I fight back a yawn as my phone dings, and I jump. It’s from Poppy.Spending the night at Ryder’s, so the apartment is ALL YOURS wink, wink.

“It’s my roommate,” I say in lieu of an apology as I free my hand and text back.There’s no need for your winking.

So you mean you’re going to his place instead of bringing him home?She replies seconds later.

The idea of going back to an empty apartment isn’t that appealing, either.No comment. If I don’t come home by 10 tomorrow, call the cops.

Got it. ;) ;) ;)

I roll my eyes at her antics and tuck my phone back into the pocket of Leo’s jacket.

“You look tired,” he notes.

“Didn’t your mother teach you never to say that to a woman?” I stretch out my arms, trying and failing to bite back another yawn.

“I think it was to never ask a woman her age, and… Do you want a ride home?” he asks.

“My roommate said she’s going out,” I say. I don’t know how to segue that into the unspoken request simmering in my blood, so I add, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Oh no, Skye. You just sounded like you’re desperately trying to pick up a guy at a bar.

But when Leo looks at me, there’s only sincerity in his eyes, not mockery or disdain. “Neither do I.”

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@TMZ: @LeoJPerez spotted leaving the @LaModeMag event with @SkyeHolland1! Pics below

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