Page 73 of The Road Trip Romance

“Penn, leave it. There’s nothing we can do at the moment. I’ll take care of things when we get back to Sophia’s house,” Tate says.

I look out the window and then my phone pings once again. Looking down, I read the text from Anissa.

Anissa: GURRRL! Call me!!!

Me: I’m in the car. I’ll call you tomorrow.

Anissa: Guess where I am?

Me: Where?

Anissa: Your house.

Me: WHAT?

I hit call and she picks up on the first ring.

“Why are you at my house?” I ask.

“Well, if you maybe would respond to a message, you’d know that I had a last-minute thing here in D.C. after my vacation and I had asked if I could stay at your place after asking when you’d be back and no answer. So, I sort of let myself in for the night. Also, it looks like you left in a shitstorm. I cleaned up, don’t worry. And no paparazzi have figured out where you live yet,” she says.

I roll my eyes. Anissa is a total neat freak. It’s no wonder we didn’t kill each other in college.

“Well, that’s good. I don’t need to be inundated with media. Listen, the guys and I are about to be back in like…thirty-ish minutes,” I say as I check the time on my phone.

“Coolio. I’ll see you and…theguysin a jiffy,” she replies, and I know she’s smirking. That beotch probably planned a trip here in hopes of meeting my new celebrity friends.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” I state and hang up because I do not want to have a heart-to-heart with my bestie in front of Tate, Penn, or Rex.

I return to my message with Mark and tell him that I’ll explain everything when I get back later, but it’s not exactly like it seems. I reply to Lex with a similar message. They both reply that the paparazzi suck. Now that, I can agree with.

“Give me your phone,” Tate says.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because nothing good can come of staring at it. Everyone in our lives will have questions and we’ll have to answer them, but not now. Let’s just get back to your place?—”

“My best friend, Anissa, is there,” I blurt out.

“Shit. OK. Well, let’s still just get back there and come up with a game plan. It’ll be fine. It always is. There will be another story that takes over the news cycle by tomorrow,” he assures me.

“Yes, but this will stay with us. It’s going to come up every time we get interviewed, every podcast, every news article,” I point out.

“Yes, and that’s why we have publicists. We’ll get our PR teams on it, and it’ll be fine. I mean, maybe they can even spin it to help get folks excited about the prospect of a film,” he says.

He’s right about that, but I hate that he’s right. I want him to be wrong. I want to be angry at him. I want it to be easy to end this for real.

“Fine,” I say as I turn toward the window.

“You guys need any help with this, just tell us what to say,” Penn says.

“We will. Thanks, bro,” Tate replies. His hand goes to my thigh, but I don’t turn back to him. Instead, I watch the mile markers pass by, counting each tenth of a mile as we inch closer to my home, closer to what I feel is the inevitable end to whatever this is blooming between us that’s about to be squashed like a bug.Because who am I kidding? A relationship with the world’s most famous movie star? It’s never going to work out.We’ll always have to be dealing with something like this and I won’t be with a guy who refers to me asjust a friendevery time things get hard. By the time we reach the last mile marker, I’ve made up my mind. It’s time to end this road trip and things with Tate before I get really hurt. And if that means no movie, then there’ll be no movie.

CHAPTERTHIRTY

Tate

My friends have been quiet, not prodding me about how I’ll resolve my current media shitshow, which honestly I feel is becoming a weekly event. I absentmindedly have been rubbing my thumb over the inside of Sophia’s thigh. I glance down at it, giving her leg a little squeeze, but her eyes remain fixed on the scenery passing us by as we approach her town. A worry in the pit of my stomach starts to expand as the seconds tick by and she doesn’t look back at me.

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