Halfway Perfect by Julie Cross Page B

Hepatitis C and the staph infection.
    KATIE : Okay, okay. It was just an idea.
    I shake my head and stuff my phone away. I can deal with the rest of them later.
    â€œYes,” Elana says, reminding me that I had just asked her a question about the actress thing. “And singer. I’ve studied dance some too, so Broadway is a possibility.”
    Right. And I’m going to climb Everest .
    We’ve arrived at the apartment building where the party is being held. I turn to Elana before the driver opens the door. “You’re okay with this, right? There’s photographers and…it’s not real…I don’t want it to be real. You understand that?”
    I had to ask. What if she does get attached? She’s fourteen. Isn’t she supposed to get crushes on idiot older boys? Better someone else than me.
    Her face turns completely serious and she says, “Yes, and no offense to you, Alex, but I would never be interested in a boy who agrees to something like this.”
    I should be offended. But coming from this girl, it just makes me laugh. She’s not a complete naive princess. “If that’s true, then promise you won’t date any models, because they’d all probably agree to something like this. Even the girls.”
    She smiles at me as the door opens, and already I see cameras flashing. “I promise.”
    I feel about 10 percent better when we step out of the car. I’m comfortable enough to rest my hand on the small of her back and look like a couple. We pose for a few photos and one photographer shouts at us, “What about the language barrier? Do you speak French, Alex? How are you communicating?”
    I give my best smirk. “Her English is way better than my French. Hell, her English might be better than my English.”
    Elana smiles but looks incredibly shy and not willing to speak up. We head inside, refusing any more questions.
    With Elana wearing those heels, we’re exactly the same height. But she almost looks taller because her legs go on forever. Eve’s legs look like that too. (Yes, I’ve checked out Eve’s legs. I am a dude.) In build, Elana is basically a dark-skinned version of Eve. Eve’s freckles and the small strands of curly hair that slip out of her messy bun make her a little more like the girl next door, whereas Elana’s bone structure and facial features are sharper and more intense.
    There are no photographers inside the party, but we do get a few heads turning our way after entering. I’m holding Elana’s hand now, but she seems to be a little steadier in her heels and less nervous.
    A waiter approaches us with a tray of champagne glasses. Elana picks one up right away. I follow her movement even though I’m not a champagne kind of guy.
    Everything about this party is stuffy and formal. I hate it after only two minutes. We make our way around the large main room in this penthouse apartment, stopping to talk and shake hands with various industry people. Elana does a great job, kissing everyone on both cheeks and giving me lots of sideways glances that could be deemed as romantic. I guess. After nearly an hour of this (though it feels like six hours), we end up separated. I’m leaning against a black grand piano, downing a vodka club when I get another text from Eve.
    HARVARD : How’s the party?
    ME : *snore* please tell me you are at a much cooler party. I can live vicariously through you.
    HARVARD : Sorry. I’m alone with my calculus book. We’ve been together for hours. Barely pulling a C in this class. Math is my greatest weakness.
    ME : Can’t you just find some college boy/math geek to seduce into free tutoring?
    HARVARD : You watch too much TV. And clearly overestimate my ability to seduce anyone.
    ME : Come on. It’s not that hard. You were a model.
    HARVARD : I took direction very well. On my own=Epic fail.
    ME : Ok. Tell me the big secret with Elana.
    HARVARD :