Page 42 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

o get her phone out of her pocket. “I’m sorry. I’m just… Wow.”

I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “What’s your name?”

“Could you… I don’t have anything on me. How could I be so stupid?”

Logan backtracked to his truck and reached into the glove box. “Never leave home without it.” He waved a silver Sharpie.

“Look at you.” I stepped back and took it from him with a wide smile. “See, this is why I keep him around.”

“Don’t give me the credit. Izzy started buying them in bulk.”

The girl with the big brown eyes glanced from me to Logan and back. “So cool.” Then she held out her phone to me. “Could you sign my phone?”

Her friend was snapping pictures from the sidewalk.

“Sure.” I stilled her trembling fingers and took the phone. “What’s your name?”

“Right. You asked me that. Olive.”

I paused in the midst of writing. “What a pretty name.”

“It’s Olivia, but that’s too—I don’t know. Too extra for me. I’m just Olive with the muddy hair and muddy eyes.”

I looked up. “Don’t ever say that. Besides, Jamie has dark hair and dark eyes and she rocks it. She’d kick your butt for saying that about yourself and her.”

“No. She’s so… Wow. I could never be like her.”

I finished signing her phone and returned it to her before recapping the marker. “Why would you want to be her, when you’re you? The best part of us is our individuality.” I gave her an impulsive hug and the girl broke down in my arms.

“No one’s ever said that to me.”

“Bet your mom did.”

Olive tucked her hair behind her ear. “Moms have to say that.”

“Believe me, they don’t.” Mine sure hadn’t. Individuality was the devil in elitist Brooklyn. Sameness reigned. Which was why my parents had never understood me. “Want to get a picture?”

“Yes, please.”

It took a few tries before she was happy with her photo. And then it took another few attempts to get her friend to be in the picture with us.

A few people passed by with wide-eyed stares and their cameras up. I knew this would be all over the webverse within a hot minute.

Maybe thirty seconds.

By the time the girls were finally on their way, Logan was hustling me into the diner.

“You’re still hella patient, girl.”

I grinned up at him. “Oh, and you aren’t?”

“I don’t have to be in Winchester Falls. No one gives a crap about me. Just the way I like it.”

I was used to being noticed. Even before Brooklyn Dawn had made it enough for me to be on the entertainment paparazzi radar, I’d done enough modeling for Roman to get spotted from his campaigns.

James, Simon Kagan, and I had been the first major models for the now hugely famous designer, and that had put me in the spotlight way faster than I’d ever imagined.

But I loved visiting Logan because it was true. Most people didn’t give a crap about famous people here. However, young people would always be more starstruck.

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