Page 111 of Tell Me When It's Over

Mia’s eyes pierce mine in silence.

The same woman sighs dreamily. “It’s so sweet that the youngest Matthews and Bishop are together. It’s so…fairytale somehow.”

I’m about to make the distinction that I know they know already when Mia beats me to it. “She’s technically not our blood sister.” Before I can let her words go to heart, she pins me with her eyes, and with conviction adds, “But she’ll always be family. No matter what.”

Both women make noises that sound like a mixture of “aww” and “so sweet” before returning to finish their work so the reality star can go sing her heart out.

There’s no way neither of them didn’t know the reality of the Bishop scandal. It was everywhere. Headlines that called out my mother. Tabloids that accused me of trying to get an ‘in’ to buy the best education this side of the country has to offer. I never told anybody this, but after going back to Phoenix, Mom and I would get trailed by reporters wanting to follow the “exiled has-beens” to see how we were living. They got a lot of good pictures and footage of the shitty places we stayed, and the men Mom would parade around to act like she wasn’t hurt by Harry kicking us out. I don’t know what happened to those pictures because I refused to look at the magazine rack at the stores I went into and was thankful when our internet was cut so I couldn’t see anything lingering online.

Telling Kyler and Mia about how bad it got would make them feel worse than they both admitted they already do. Kyler more. He’s held it against himself like the whole thing is his fault. But he didn’t tell my mother to have sex with people so they’d lie about my bloodwork. He wasn’t the one to convince her to cheat on Harry during their engagement. Ky never asked her to keep up a pointless charade that would tear us apart.

It’s not his fault. It never was. And while I spent a long time being upset with him for letting me walk away so easily, I had to let it go. I was already being eaten alive by Mom’s constant mood swings and games, I couldn’t hold a torch over my heart whenever I thought about Kyler and let the flickering flames threaten to burn me alive.

“He’s too young for me anyway,” the stylist says, sighing again. She grabs a can of hairspray and looks over her shoulder at me. “He treats you well, honey?”

There’s no hesitation. “Yes. Very well.”

Her smile is sweet. “Good. You keep him, you hear? Boys like that are rare. We need to hold onto them for as long as we can.”

Ignoring the look that I know Mia is giving me, I clear my throat and bob my head once, not wanting to continue this conversation with strangers. “I’m going to check on Kyler.”

His room is only a few doors down, and I think I’d be more comfortable without prying eyes studying me the way Mia is right now.

“It was nice meeting you,” the women call out as I wave goodbye.

The short trek to Ky’s room lasts all of five seconds, and I stop short when I hear him and, who I know for sure is Gordy, talking. “I already checked. They can’t, man.”

“You sure?” Ky gruffs.

There’s a pause. “Can I ask why?”

“No.”

“Kyler—”

“You’re my friend,” he tells Gordy slowly, the tone of his voice warning. “But you don’t need to know everything.”

A heavy feeling drenches my skin like a sheen of sweat. Are they talking about me? Ky doesn’t always make Gordy do things outside of what’s expected of him without an explanation, and I’m sure he’s not willing to explain that we…

Don’t go there.

But I do. Because the barely-there kiss, the one that was just a ghost of a touch between our lips, still replays in my mind. Over and over like a stupid broken record of torture, followed by the others we shared in his bed. I tell myself to stop thinking about it whenever my thoughts take me there, but that makes me think about it more. How can I not? Two practically non-existent kisses from the boy who’s been my best friend and number one supporter from the start is melded into my mind, body, and soul unlike any other kiss I’ve gotten before.

It’s likely, more than likely, that he’s asking Gordy to do something for him that’s because of me. Then real sweat dots my forehead. What if he’s asking Gordy to look for other places? Kyler wouldn’t just up and leave. The whole reason I’m here is because I needed someone to help me get grounded, and I already checked with UCLA about housing, but—

“Hey,” Gordy says, snapping me out of my train of thoughts. “You okay? You’re a little pale, Len.”

A little pale? That’s probably an understatement, but I force a tight-lipped smile across my face and nod anyway, hoping he doesn’t know I overheard them. “I’m good.” The high tone of my voice says otherwise, and I want to kick myself.

His eyes narrow. “Kyler was looking for you earlier. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

My mind wraps around the worst as I give another terse nod to Gordy and walk past him into the room that’s slightly bigger than Mia’s.

Instead of being in a makeup chair with people surrounding him, Ky is on a small loveseat with an arm thrown over the back. He isn’t smiling when I walk in, but the anvil on my chest lifts a centimeter when his eyes brighten as our eyes lock. “Hey, you.”

“Mind if I sit?” I ask stupidly, gesturing toward the space unoccupied.

His brows pinch. “Of course.”

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