Kissing the Player (The Dangers of Dating a Diva Book 1) Page 2

  “Good luck,” Simone said, backing away as Rose drew closer with this beaming smile that took over her whole face. When I was a kid, my mom was obsessed with that Pretty Woman movie. That old eighties one about a hooker and her sugar daddy, or whatever. Every time I saw Rose and she aimed this smile at me, I thought about that movie.

  She had a Julia Roberts smile.

  The one that could make a movie a hit even if it’s a super creepy premise when you think about it.

  That smile was what had kept me in this pseudo-relationship this long. I mean—how could you give someone the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech when she was smiling at you like that? Like you were the sun in her very own solar system? Like her whole world began and ended with you? Like you were her everything?

  I let out a long exhale and ran a hand through my hair as I braced myself for what was to come.

  Tears, definitely.

  Maybe even a dramatic slap across the face.

  I wouldn’t put that past Rose. She’d almost reached me when a flash of panic had me tensing. Maybe I’d gotten this all wrong. Maybe breaking things off in public would only make things worse.

  She might very well cause an epic scene that people would be talking about for years to come.

  Oh crap. I had to get this over with. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, right?

  “Hey, babe!” Rose barreled into me. We were almost the same height and her hands pressed against my chest, clutching my faded T-shirt as she leaned in to plant a big kiss on my cheek with a popping sound.

  I grimaced. I’d have to head to the guys’ bathroom after this to make sure I got all the lipstick off.

  She took a step back and laughed as I swiped at what was surely a hot-pink kiss mark on my cheek. I found myself smiling back because, in spite of the circumstances, it was physically impossible not to smile at least a little bit when Rose was grinning at me like that.

  Like her whole day had just been made by the sight of me standing here.

  I barely held back a sigh. This…was not going to be pretty.

  “So…I was thinking,” she said, her head tilting down so she was giving me this coy look, her smile fading to something smaller and even more tempting. It was the smile she gave me before she kissed me.

  Just like that my brain shut off as my blood turned to lava. It was hard to breathe when she looked at me like this. It was hard to keep from reaching out and tugging her toward me.

  “About the dance tonight,” she said slowly, her voice soft and breathy and…freakin’ fantastic.

  I swallowed hard. This…this right here. This effect she had on me? This was the precise reason I had to put an end to things. It couldn’t go any further or I’d be in over my head. “Yeah, about that…” I started, backing up a step so I could breathe. The fog lifted a little as I pulled away. “I was hoping to talk—”

  “I was thinking it might be best if we didn’t go together,” she interrupted quickly.

  I stared at her because…surely I’d heard her wrong. “What?”

  Her nose wrinkled up in this cute little wince. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “What?” I said again. It was all I could manage.

  She bit her lip as she took a step away from me. She was tugging at her purse strap and was starting to turn away, like she was just itching to get away from me.

  “Look, it’s been fun,” she said with a smile. Her eyes glinted with that lively energy that was so very Rose. “But I’m not really looking for a boyfriend, you know?” She stopped backing away long enough to widen her eyes and give me a hopeful look. “You’re cool with just being friends, right?”

  I now knew what it meant to be shocked stupid. I could only stare at her for a long moment. Too long. “What?” I said for the third time. I gave my head a little shake as I grappled for the right words—the response she wanted to hear. The one that would salvage my pride. “Yeah. No, of course. We should be friends.”

  I sounded lame. People around us were staring.

  Friends.

  Friends?

  She wanted to be friends?

  Her smile was brilliant again as she backed up a little farther. Any second now, she’d spin on one of those heels and be out of here. Out of my life.

  Just like I’d wanted.

  She gave me a wink that no one but Rose could have pulled off without looking ridiculous. “See you around, Jax.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. See ya.”

  But she was gone before I’d even finished and I…was talking to thin air.

  1

  Rose

  My sigh was loud and admittedly melodramatic. But in my defense, a loud sigh was the only type that could be heard over the cacophony of voices and laughter in the school’s cafeteria.

  But as loud as my sigh was? My best friend still didn’t notice. Hannah was grinning down at her phone as she texted with her boyfriend. I didn’t need her to tell me it was River on the other end of the texting—there was no one else on the planet who made my tomboy BFF turn into a giggling, blushing, nauseatingly happy ball of goo.

  “So I told my mom I’m going to shave my head this semester to make a statement,” I announced loudly. “Maybe even shave my eyebrows, too. What do you think?”

  “Hmm?” She lifted her head, a dazed, happy look in her eyes. “Um, yeah, sounds good.”

  I stared at her for a long moment, letting her see my disappointment. “You didn’t hear a word I said.”

  “Yes, I did!”

  “I told you I was going to shave my head and my eyebrows.”

  Her face fell. “Oh.” She shot me a funny little grimace as she tucked her phone into her bag. “Sorry.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I wasn’t really mad. It was nice to see Hannah so happy. After years of watching her play the part of the underappreciated sidekick to her ex, I loved seeing her thrive in her relationship with River, a guy who saw the amazingness that was my bestie. “It’s okay,” I said with another exaggerated sigh. “I suppose I’ll forgive you this time.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she said with a totally unapologetic grin. She leaned forward so her elbows were on the cafeteria table. “What were you saying? What did I miss?”

  “Only that my life as I know it is over,” I said.

  “Oh, that’s all?” she teased. “What happened this time? You missed another Nordstrom online sale?”

  “Worse,” I said, jabbing my spoon into my yogurt. “I found out that Monica Jefferson is doing the same contemporary monologue as me.”

  She pursed her lips for a second as she narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Am I supposed to know who Monica Jefferson is? Do we hate her?”

  I sighed. “No. That’s not the point. The point is, someone else will be performing my monologue at the scholarship competition, which means I have to find a new one and start rehearsing from scratch.”

  “How do you know?”

  I blinked. “What?”

  Hannah picked up her previously forgotten sandwich. “How do you know what monologue she’s doing?”

  “You are so missing the point here,” I muttered. When she still eyed me expectantly, I explained. “There’s a Facebook page for the organizers and students who are competing in the Northeast Regional competition. Someone started a thread about how long the monologues need to be and Monica-freakin’-Jefferson told everyone that she was using Louisa’s speech from The Fantasticks.”

  Hannah just stared at me as if waiting for more.

  I dropped my spoon with a clang. “This is a disaster, Hannah!”

  Her lips twitched with amusement the way they always did when I was having a freakout over something she deemed unworthy of freakouts.

  Which was pretty much everything.

  Hannah was chill like that. Unless the topic was soccer, she never really got worked up. She barely even cried when her long-term boyfriend dumped her via text last year.

  I, on the other hand, could get riled over just about anything. Some people claimed
this made me melodramatic. I knew it just meant that I was an actress, thank you very much.

  “Rose, you still have…” She held up her fingers and silently ticked off months. “A solid six months to find a new monologue.”

  “No, I have six months to choose, memorize, rehearse, and perfect a new monologue,” I said. “And on top of that, I still have to work on the classical one.” I arched my brows. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to master Shakespeare?”

  Hannah gave me a regretful grimace. “I really don’t.”

  “It’s hard,” I said, picking up my spoon to snag another bite before the bell rang. “Take my word for it.”

  “I believe you,” she said. “But you’re the best actress in the school.” Her smile was sweetly encouraging. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

  I gave a little huff of amusement. Hannah was seriously the best bestie anyone could hope for. Having her in your corner was like having your very own pep squad.

  “What’s this really about?” she asked.

  I toyed with my spoon, trailing it along the edge of the container to get the last bite. “It just threw me off, that’s all.”

  Hannah stayed silent. Ugh. Sometimes she knew me too well.

  I sighed as I met her unwavering stare. “Okay, fine, maybe I’m overreacting—”

  “You think?” she said mildly.

  “But it’s just that…I have to win.” I looked down at the table. I wasn’t sure how else to put it so she’d understand. Hannah didn’t really understand my desire for fame, my need to be a big star…but she did understand winning. On the soccer field she was as competitive as they came.

  This wasn’t exactly the same thing. I mean, I wasn’t all that competitive with the other girls—I didn’t even know most of them. But if I got this scholarship, it meant something.

  It would mean that I was good.

  That I was the best.

  It would mean that my mom and her passive aggressive put-downs could go suck it because I had talent.

  I shoved the spoon in my mouth as Hannah studied me. Her brows drew down as she frowned. “You’re worried you won’t win.”

  I lifted a shoulder. “Duh. Of course that’s why I’m nervous.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “You don’t think you’re a good enough actress?”

  I stiffened. “I didn’t say that. Of course I’m good.” I meant to stop talking, but sometimes when Hannah just sat there watching me like this—all quiet and sincere—words just tumbled out. “But everyone competing for these scholarships is good. Every actress performing at the competition is the best in her school. I can’t just be good…I have to be the best.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” Hannah nodded slowly. “It’s a lot of pressure. I guess… If I were in your shoes and I was preparing for a big soccer tournament, I’d probably seek some outside help. Some extra coaching to give me every advantage and maybe even an extra edge.” She shrugged. “I’d do everything in my power to make sure I was as good as I could be.”

  I hitched my lips to the side as I considered that. “So, what? Like, an acting coach?”

  Hannah nodded quickly. “Yeah, like an acting coach.”

  I thought it over. Her idea was…brilliant, actually. If I had someone other than our nice but not at all talented school director Mrs. Klein working with me, maybe I could nail this thing. “That’s a really great idea, Hannah,” I said. “Except…” I sighed as my shoulders slumped with dejection. “How am I supposed to pay for something like that?”

  She eyed my designer purse meaningfully. “I can give you the name of three different consignment sites that would be happy to get that off your hands.”

  My brows shot up in horror. “And risk the wrath of Mommy Dearest? Are you out of your mind?”

  She snickered a bit at the nickname I’d stolen from the movie Mommie Dearest. My mother wasn’t quite as bad as Joan Crawford was made out to be, but she was no treat either. I’d become known in this school for my killer style and my expensive clothes, but that was because making sure I looked good was my mother’s idea of good parenting.

  The brightly colored hair? That was my big act of rebellion. Or it had been until my mom realized that I could pull it off. Now she bought my hair dyes for me and coached me on the right eyeliner to pair it with. So annoying.

  “Nope,” I said. “There’s no way she’d be okay with me ‘losing’ some of her favorite pieces. Even when she’s done with them and gives them to me, she keeps track of them.”

  Hannah remained optimistic. “Maybe a part-time job?”

  “On top of the fall production rehearsals and schoolwork?” I shook my head. “I’d never be able to pull together enough hours at some minimum-wage job to make enough.”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she said.

  I nodded. I would. I definitely would. First I’d find out who the best acting coach was in this area and then I’d figure out how to pay for them. “You’re right. I always get what I want when I set my sights on something, right?”

  Hannah nodded emphatically, ever the cheerleader. “Of course you do.”

  “Right.” I stabbed the yogurt container one last time and came up empty. “Thanks, Hannah.”

  “My pleasure.” She leaned over as if about to let me in on a secret. “But I still think you should at least try asking your mom. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  I wrinkled my nose of all the possible outcomes. But she was right, it was at least worth a shot. And if she said no, then I could focus on a plan B. “I’ll try,” I promised.

  She grinned at me, but my attention was caught by the guy walking in behind her.

  With a quiet little hiss, I sank down into my seat as Ryan Holston walked in and glared at me from across the room. I sank down even lower so Hannah was hiding me. “Don’t look,” I said.

  Too late. She was peering over her shoulder to see what it was that had me shrinking into my seat. She whipped back with a grimace of understanding. “You ended it?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “It had been two weeks.”

  She gave her head a little shake that screamed disappointment, but there was no real anger there. Hannah had come to grips with my theory of love and romance a long time ago.

  Namely, that I didn’t believe in it.

  Sure, relationships were fine and good for some people, but not for me. For better or worse, I was my mother’s daughter and I refused to turn into her when it came to men. Maybe there was a time when she held all the power, but these days she was a desperate retired trophy wife. She’d spent the better part of my life flitting from one rich old guy to another.

  My father had been husband number two and lasted only marginally longer than the others. These days he lived with his newer, younger, and don’t-tell-my-mom-I-said-this prettier wife and their new son. We talk on the phone on holidays and my birthday, but that’s about the extent of our relationship. For the most part, it’s just Mom and me.

  My mom had raised me to be her mini-me—the real reason she spoiled me with her hand-me downs and the stylish clothes. She had high hopes that I’d land a man even wealthier than her five husbands combined.

  Please.

  As if that was my life’s goal. I had dreams, thank you very much. And while I knew there was such a thing as love—Hannah and River were one disgustingly sweet example of the stuff—I was perfectly content to wait to find love and romance and all that jazz until my career had been firmly established.

  Hence, the two-week rule.

  Because here was the other thing—I liked boys. I could admit it. I’d always been fascinated by flirting and dating and…yeah, kissing. I really liked kissing. I had career goals, but I was also a girlie-girl who’d grown up adoring teen boy bands and playing with makeup and reading every article Cosmo had ever written on how to catch your crush.

  So the two-week rule was my way of having my cake and eating it too. I could have some fun and walk away withou
t anyone getting hurt.

  “He looks mad,” Hannah murmured as Ryan stalked past us. Several tables around us stopped talking as he passed.

  “He’ll get over it,” I assured her.

  Hannah did not look assured.

  “His pride is bruised. It’s not like he’s heartbroken.” I stared at her, breathing a sigh of relief as Ryan reached his normal table with a bunch of other popular guys who thought they were God’s gift.

  Like Jax Hadley.

  I saw him over there. Whatever Ryan said, it had Jax looking over my way. His expression was bored. Blank. It was the same look he’d been giving me for two years now, almost like he’d forgotten how to smile.

  He hadn’t.

  I’d seen him smiling at loads of girls since I’d ended things with him. Too many, some might say. The guy went through girls like Kleenex. Flirt, make out, discard, repeat.

  Gross.

  I mean, I might not exactly have been a paragon of relationship virtues but at least I was a serial monogamist, not a player like Jax. My flings occurred one at a time, and with a proper ending in between.

  Jax? He was a juggler. It was impossible to tell who he was hooking up with when.

  “He looks sad,” Hannah said.

  I blinked, tearing my gaze away to look at Hannah. Jax looked sad?

  And then it clicked. Ryan. Right. We were talking about Ryan.

  I almost laughed. Ryan was definitely not sad. We’d had fun these past couple weeks, but it was hardly some love match for the ages. He’d been pissed when I’d ended things this morning, but I knew without a doubt it wasn’t because he cared so much about me.

  He just didn’t like being dumped.

  Alphaholes like Ryan and Jax had egos the size of this cafeteria and they hated when I beat them to it, even though we all knew the end was inevitable.

  I arched my brows in the face of Hannah’s pitying look. “Seriously, Hannah, enough with the puppy dog eyes. Ryan is not some victim here.”

  She tilted her head down and fixed me with a challenging look. “You seem so sure about that. But how do you know?”