Halfway Perfect by Julie Cross Page A

and I pull it out to read Eve’s reply text.
    EVE : John just asked me if I’ve ever dressed a dog before! Wtf?
    I glance at Elana who’s watching me carefully and then I think about all the people that might be looking over my shoulder, reading “Eve Nowakowski” on my phone. I quickly delete her name and then hesitate before saving her number with a secret nickname… Harvard .
    ME : Jamiroquai only wears designer clothes. She’s never naked.
    HARVARD : The dog’s name is Jamiroquai?
    ME : Yep. After the singer. Virtual insanity. Canned Heat.
    HARVARD : Oh boy…what did u have to wear in that show? I can’t even imagine.
    ME : No you can’t. I still need therapy.
    HARVARD : Are you ignoring your date?
    ME : Maybe. We’re in the car.
    HARVARD : Pay attention to her for a while and then I’ll tell you what you wanted to know earlier.
    ME : Deal.
    I tuck my phone away and sit in silence for a minute, twiddling my thumbs. “So, Eve’s French is really good, huh? Mine’s terrible.”
    â€œYes,” Elana nods. “She’s very nice. I don’t believe anything they say about her.”
    My eyebrows shoot up. This girl doesn’t beat around the bush. “Really?”
    Elana angles her body to face me, giving me a clear view of way too much skin in the front. I force my eyes up.
    â€œThe agency claimed she was going to rehab, but if a model goes to drug rehab the reports always say, oh she has exhaustion and is dehydrated.” She waves a hand around as if mimicking Hugo during one of his gossip sessions. “If they say drugs, it means they’re hiding something much worse.”
    â€œWhat’s worse than drug addiction?”
    I stop thinking about it because Eve is slowly becoming more Harvard and less Eve Castle and I don’t want that to change.
    â€œI don’t know,” Elana says slowly, every word laced with her thick French accent. “She looks even more beautiful now, doesn’t she?”
    I’m not sure how to respond to that since Elana is my fake girlfriend and all, and honestly, I haven’t seen many pictures of Eve from her time in the spotlight. “She looks… healthier ,” I say finally.
    Elana nods, her dark eyes staring into mine. “I can’t wait until I’m an actress. I’ll eat bread every day and gain fifteen pounds. Maybe I’ll even have curves. I love curves on women.”
    Me too . At least we have one thing in common.
    â€œActress, huh?” I say, hiding a smile. She’s confident in the way a five-year-old is telling you she wants to be an astronaut. Like it’s so easy, it’s already a done deal. I think my sister Katie still secretly wants to be a pop star, though she won’t say it anymore now that her Hannah Montana phase is long behind her.
    Katie who has been giving me hell via text message about the US Weekly article. Worse than my parents even. She wants to know every detail about Elana and our relationship. I hate lying to her.
    I flip through the family text messages I’ve acquired and ignored throughout the day.
    KATIE : I can’t believe Elana has that Prada bag! Do they pay her to walk around with it?
    BRAD : Hey little bro, they’re gonna get the French chick some implants before she does Victoria’s Secret, right? Let me know asap. We’ve got a bet going at the bar tonight.
    MOM : You look bigger. You’re not taking steroids like that Twilight werewolf boy, are you? Dr. Weinstein just told me they have long-term side effects. Call me right now!
    JARED : Don’t worry, I calmed Mom down. Told her if you were taking roids you’d actually be able to grow some facial hair. She’s fine now.
    KATIE : Think I could pull off a belly button ring? This girl in my gym class says she can do it for me.
    I feel my blood boil and I quickly type in a response to that last text.
    ME : Great idea. Enjoy the