room.
What about you, Jo?”
I glance at her as she gets up and then take another quick look in Ned’s direction. He’s still watching TV, too.
“Maybe soon. You never know. Someone could beat someone else to death with that last rose. It might happen.” Katrina laughs as she starts off. “In your dreams.” During the commercial break, I continue to pat my 92
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fauxPod that’s been stowed in the front pocket of my hoodie since dinnertime. I’d managed to take a few shots of Ned eating, but so what? Hardly very exciting stuff. And sitting in front of the TV . . . wow. Big deal.
Thinking about him, my eyes move in Ned’s direction again and collide with his. Quickly, I move them away, only to fi nd them moving back again, uncontrollably, mere seconds later. He’s still looking at me. Busted, this time we both fl ash guilty smiles.
We go back to watching TV after that, but something plays on my mind as I watch— that smile of Ned’s. For an instant there, it seemed different again. That is, Ned seemed different. I wish I could put my fi nger on what ever it is that’s bugging me about him lately. It’s defi nitely something, that’s for sure.
When the show ends, Ned’s smile is still on my mind, and I fi nd my gaze sliding back toward him again.
Oops.
Our eyes collide once more.
And, this time, Ned really laughs. He gets up and comes over to sit closer to me. I try to remain calm, but I think my heartbeat may be giving me away. It’s practically louder than the TV.
“Sorry to stare,” he says.
“You weren’t staring,” I tell him.
Ned doesn’t reply, but stares at the TV instead, where some vividly colored cereal is dancing around in a kid’s 93
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bowl, while some mother type tries to convince us it’s actually healthy. Mid- vitamin- and- iron statement, he turns back, his eyes focusing in on me. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot this evening— what would you really change?” I suck in my breath a tad too noisily. Ned’s expression is serious and his gaze intent. He’s looking for a real answer here. Not a Brad answer. “I . . . ,” I start, before changing tack. “You fi rst.”
Ned bites his lip for a second, but his eyes don’t move from mine. “Almost everything about my dad,” he snorts slightly. “That’s a given.”
I get a mental picture of Matthew Hartnett. I don’t blame him.
He looks away now. “And there’s something I did in the past. A stupid mistake.” He’s silent for a moment or two, thinking, before his focus moves back to me again. “You?” I stare into his green eyes and want to give him the answer he deserves, so I tell him the truth. “I don’t think there is any one thing. There’s something I’m working toward and I’ll get there in the end. But it’ll take a while.” I’d never spoken more than a few words to the stars I shot on a daily basis until I’d met Ned. And now I wondered whether I could still do my job if I got to know them like this— as real people. I feel that tightness in my stomach repeat and refocus as I stare at a spot in the distance.
Silence.
Ned looks at the TV again, me at a worn spot on my 94
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jeans. As we sit there, just for a moment I let myself imagine what it might be like to be normal— just a normal girl (fi ne, a slightly messed- up version of a normal girl) sitting here next to Ned. A girl who wasn’t a paparazzo. A girl who could . . .
turn around and kiss him. Just like that. Completely out of the blue. Because she so desperately wanted to.
I let myself imagine this, but just for a moment.
“Can you change your stupid mistake?” I blurt out way too fast, not even thinking about the words as they exit my mouth. They’re so unexpected,
What about you, Jo?”
I glance at her as she gets up and then take another quick look in Ned’s direction. He’s still watching TV, too.
“Maybe soon. You never know. Someone could beat someone else to death with that last rose. It might happen.” Katrina laughs as she starts off. “In your dreams.” During the commercial break, I continue to pat my 92
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 92
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 92
5/5/11 4:25 PM
5/5/11 4:25 PM
fauxPod that’s been stowed in the front pocket of my hoodie since dinnertime. I’d managed to take a few shots of Ned eating, but so what? Hardly very exciting stuff. And sitting in front of the TV . . . wow. Big deal.
Thinking about him, my eyes move in Ned’s direction again and collide with his. Quickly, I move them away, only to fi nd them moving back again, uncontrollably, mere seconds later. He’s still looking at me. Busted, this time we both fl ash guilty smiles.
We go back to watching TV after that, but something plays on my mind as I watch— that smile of Ned’s. For an instant there, it seemed different again. That is, Ned seemed different. I wish I could put my fi nger on what ever it is that’s bugging me about him lately. It’s defi nitely something, that’s for sure.
When the show ends, Ned’s smile is still on my mind, and I fi nd my gaze sliding back toward him again.
Oops.
Our eyes collide once more.
And, this time, Ned really laughs. He gets up and comes over to sit closer to me. I try to remain calm, but I think my heartbeat may be giving me away. It’s practically louder than the TV.
“Sorry to stare,” he says.
“You weren’t staring,” I tell him.
Ned doesn’t reply, but stares at the TV instead, where some vividly colored cereal is dancing around in a kid’s 93
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 93
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 93
5/5/11 4:25 PM
5/5/11 4:25 PM
bowl, while some mother type tries to convince us it’s actually healthy. Mid- vitamin- and- iron statement, he turns back, his eyes focusing in on me. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot this evening— what would you really change?” I suck in my breath a tad too noisily. Ned’s expression is serious and his gaze intent. He’s looking for a real answer here. Not a Brad answer. “I . . . ,” I start, before changing tack. “You fi rst.”
Ned bites his lip for a second, but his eyes don’t move from mine. “Almost everything about my dad,” he snorts slightly. “That’s a given.”
I get a mental picture of Matthew Hartnett. I don’t blame him.
He looks away now. “And there’s something I did in the past. A stupid mistake.” He’s silent for a moment or two, thinking, before his focus moves back to me again. “You?” I stare into his green eyes and want to give him the answer he deserves, so I tell him the truth. “I don’t think there is any one thing. There’s something I’m working toward and I’ll get there in the end. But it’ll take a while.” I’d never spoken more than a few words to the stars I shot on a daily basis until I’d met Ned. And now I wondered whether I could still do my job if I got to know them like this— as real people. I feel that tightness in my stomach repeat and refocus as I stare at a spot in the distance.
Silence.
Ned looks at the TV again, me at a worn spot on my 94
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 94
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 94
5/5/11 4:25 PM
5/5/11 4:25 PM
jeans. As we sit there, just for a moment I let myself imagine what it might be like to be normal— just a normal girl (fi ne, a slightly messed- up version of a normal girl) sitting here next to Ned. A girl who wasn’t a paparazzo. A girl who could . . .
turn around and kiss him. Just like that. Completely out of the blue. Because she so desperately wanted to.
I let myself imagine this, but just for a moment.
“Can you change your stupid mistake?” I blurt out way too fast, not even thinking about the words as they exit my mouth. They’re so unexpected,
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