Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LAKE

122 bobas left until we both die …

My next job is to be a dancing hot dog. I’m really scraping the bottom of the barrel here.

I tuck my phone in my lap, hands over the top of it, and look at Joules. He’s driving with a strange expression on his face, like there’s something bothering him.

“Joules.” I’m being serious here. He better tell me if he’s hiding something.

“Lake,” he replies in this weirdly calm way, in a way that Joules never talks normally. My eyes narrow. He may as well have confessed his worst secret to me. I’m going to assume that whatever he’s hiding, it’s that bad. If he doesn’t want me to think that way, he’s going to have to confess. Joules sighs. “I didn’t want to worry you—”

“What could possibly worry me any more than dying in …” I squint down at the bright orange boba in my hand. It’s a peach-passion fruit tea with passion fruit popping boba, and it’s divine. What other food is like this? Tiny popping balls. I’m mesmerized. “One-hundred-and-twenty-two bobas.”

“Lakelynn, I met Kaycee Quinn last night.”

“And?” I ask, eyes going wide. This is something he thought I’d be worried about? This is the only part of the me-seducing-Tam plot that I’m not worried about. “Why do you have that look on your face? You just met a new girl. You’re always happiest after you’ve met a new girl.”

“Wow, paint a pretty picture of me,” he drawls, giving me a blue side-eye for as long as he can before he has to watch the road again. He’s driving, and we’re on our way from Kansas City to Denver, easily one of the longest driving days of our trip (minus the first day). We might have to get extra boba. I suck harder on my straw. “Although … I might be a shallow bastard, Lake. You might be right.”

“So why are you acting like you didn’t meet a girl last night?”

“Because I didn’t like her,” he blurts, and then I turn in slow-motion horror to see that he’s embarrassed but trying not to be. Running his fingers through his hair. Touching his mouth a lot. Like, he’s touching his mouth way too much, and that’s a tell of his.

I smack him in the arm, hard enough to be startling but not too startling that we’re going to crash. He grits his teeth at me, the feral scowl of an animal.

“Get domesticated, Joules,” I warn him, but that only makes his scowl turn into a grin, and that’s even worse. “I would never ask you to seduce a girl that you don’t like. Don’t worry about it.” I turn back to the front, sticking a nail through the thin pink plastic lid of the boba cup. The straw is white and purple, and the whole drink is just a messy blotch of color. I smile as I use my straw to stab loose boba, bringing them to my mouth. I won’t waste even one. “I’ll get Tam to like me for who I am. If I can’t believe in myself, then who can I believe in? I’m putting my money on me, Joules. Don’t bother with Kaycee; Tam will fall in love with me anyway.”

My stomach feels sick. Who would do something like this? Try to break up an established couple. It’s gross. It’s fucked. It’s … just something I have to do.

I tuck my lip under my teeth, and then Joules smacks me back on the shoulder, harder than I did to him, and, “who would even do that to their little sister?” I growl out, but he ignores me. He’s driving, so he knows I won’t retaliate again. “Dickhead.”

“That look on your face just now, you looked like you might die. If only one of us is going to suffer, it’s going to be me. You just worry about getting as close to Tam as possible. Maybe the curse is saving all your meet-cutes for the middle or the end?”

I cough on a boba, and Joules looks worriedly at me, like he thinks I might need the Heimlich. I can breathe; I’m fine. He’s not wrong in what he’s saying.

“1999. One of grandma’s great-aunts didn’t get a single meet-cute until the final two months of the curse in which she and her Match met up every day, all day. They fell in love with four days to spare and broke the curse.” Quoting the Frost Family journals makes me feel confident. Um, I’m supposed to be writing my own journal, aren’t I? I should get started on that.

Joules summons up his own impressive knowledge of the archives, and I smile, waiting to be consoled by a feel-good journal entry.

“2004. Our third-cousin, Arabella, didn’t get any meet-cutes until she got stuck in a snowstorm while on a trip with her hiking club. Her tent was ruined by a blizzard, so she shared a tent with her Match. With only eleven days to spare, they grew close quick.” Joules rubs his hand over his mouth. “But they both still died.”

I just stare at him. I’m tempted to flick a boba at his face, but he’d probably catch it in his mouth and eat it. I can’t have him looking any cooler than he usually does.

“Thank you so much for bringing that up.”

“You’re not the only one who has the family records memorized,” Joules states proudly, and I can barely look at the arrogant tilt to his chin. We both studied the volumes extensively as soon as we learned to read. All Frost children do it, in order to cement the reality into us before the world can convince us that the curse isn’t real. Sort of … sort of like a cult, I guess. Uhh. I’d worry more about it if I hadn’t seen Joe die. If somehow the curse isn’t real, and all the family members I’ve seen die were just freak coincidences then I’ll still be alive at the end of the year and that’s what matters.

So, we studied the journals early, and then we studied them again because of … Joe.

The car goes quiet, neither of us willing to break the silent memorial we’re having.

Twenty minutes later, I’m refocused on the bobas and trying to remember how to breathe. I’m scared. Does it make me a coward to admit that?

“I got the hot dog job,” I tell Joules, and he laughs.

“I know this is going to sound weird, but … wear lingerie beneath the suit.” I punch him in the arm, and he grunts, and then scowls at me again. “Stop it. I’m fucking serious, Lake. If you’re going to be dressed in a giant hot dog costume, you are going to get a meet-cute. The curse has a dark sense of humor. Remember how Marla got into a car accident and watched her boyfriend bleed to death in front of her? Ten days before Joe met her?” I sober up quickly. Right. I … don’t ever forget that. “You’ll get a meet-cute, trust me. Wear the lingerie. It might make the difference.”

“You want me to sleep with Tam before I even know him?”

Joules stares at me until I gesture back at the windshield. He grudgingly refocuses on the road.

“What is the first rule in every one of our ancestor’s books?”

I sigh.

“Try to … have sexual intercourse with your Match as soon as possible. Most curses are broken after sex. I know, I know.”

“Do you think I like telling you this shit? This is hell for me, too, Lake.” He’s big-brother-pouty now, elbow on the door, hand in a fist, chin parked on it. He’s going to ignore me for a while.

Doesn’t matter.

I put my earbuds in, turn my body, and try to sneak a few videos of Tam before Joules stops me.

The first one I click is an interview from yesterday.

“Have you met any interesting fans lately?” the interviewer asks—another mega-famous pop star that I think Tam is friends with. Tam looks toward the camera, reaching up to ruffle his hair. His mouth morphs into a twist that promises he’s holding onto all sorts of secrets.

Secrets … between him and me?

I hold my breath, certain for whatever reason that he’s going to give me a clue. He’s going to say something that I’m supposed to recognize, a hint that he’s still thinking about me.

“I met a wonderful woman who traveled with three generations of her family to come and see me. I’m always grateful when my music can touch the hearts of several generations—”

I click away from the video, anxiety flickering through me.

Tam and I may have met, but he’s not out there thinking about me.

We’ve met, but I still don’t exist for him.

Joules was right: I shouldn’t be watching these videos.

I look up cave diving accidents because they just soothe me, and I yank my yellow hood up over my head. My pastel green sneakers match my hair and are tucked onto the seat cushion beside me, legs folded. I peer at Joules around the edge of the fabric.

“Don’t look at Tam videos,” he repeats, and I sigh, cranking my music up and doing my best to fall asleep.

I’m giving myself until the end of the month, and then … I’m … I’m going home. I only have four months to live, and I want to see my family. I already miss them terribly, and Joules did promise that we’d go home if his plans weren’t working.

Please, Joe. If you can hear me, help me out a little.

Curses might be real, but are wishes real, too?

I suppose we’ll find out.

120 bobas left until we both die …

“Do you want to go over everything again?” my new boss asks me, and I shake my head. She nods once and snaps her gum. “Good luck.” Raised brows. A smirk. I think she started filming me when I first walked out of the bathroom in my costume. “Don’t forgot to stop after every sale to dance!”

I’m supposed to stand out front and sell hot dogs to people waiting in line. Take breaks to do this super cheesy choreography that I learned in ten minutes. That’s literally my job, and I hate it. I don’t know how to sell hot dogs. I like hot dogs, but I’m more of a hamburger girl.

And underneath my suit? I’m wearing lingerie. It’s beautiful, this sky-blue silk patterned with lotus flowers and leaves. I bought it as soon as we got into town, used the family’s credit card, and then had to buy three bobas because I used the family credit card to buy lingerie with such a high price tag.

I feel stupid in it now. I hate Joules. I’m going to punch him when I see him next.

“Hi, how are you today?” I begin, approaching the long line with a wheeled silver cart in front of me. “Can I get you something to eat?”

“Fuck off,” a girl near the front says, and my mouth drops open. “We’re waiting for Tam.” She bites her lip and reaches up to fiddle with her hair. “I had meet-and-greet tickets this morning; he slipped a note into my merch bag. He didn’t have to do that, did he?”

“Holy shit,” her friend replies, mouth gaping. “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner? Are you nuts?”

I push the cart quickly away from them and down the line. People are here way too early for a concert that starts at eight. It’s too cold to be standing out here.

Actually, I’d assumed the foam costume would be stifling and warm. It’s not. And I’m wearing basically nothing underneath it. I stop the cart and close my eyes. I just want to go home and see my family. But that’s my inner princess talking here. Of course I can’t go home. I have to fight this with everything I have.

I sell ten hot dogs and then take a break, sitting on a bench and paying myself for a hot dog. It’s not good. Not good at all. And I have to sell these for the next several hours? How can I do that? They’re gross. I am not selling people gross hot dogs.

With a sigh, I use the family credit card to pay for the rest of the hot dogs, and I offer them up for free. If they’re free, I won’t feel guilty, and I sold all the hot dogs. Done. End of story.

The line disappears, and the concert begins. My boss redirects me to a counter selling soda, water, and … hot dogs. More of the same hot dogs. I’m not even allowed to take the suit off.

For four hours, I listen to Tam singing all these stupidly dreamy platitudes. I’m mouthing the words to “Sweet Honey” and looking forward to clocking out, when I get (weirdly) the only official complaint of the day.

“I want a full refund.” This random woman puts four empty hot dog bags down on the counter. She’s looking at her phone and not at me. I wait to be acknowledged. It takes her a full minute to look up at my face.

“If the food’s been eaten already, I have to check with my manager before I can give you a refund.” That’s technically true. I might’ve just given her a refund anyway because I don’t really care, but she’s so rude. Also, my boss is standing right next to me, waiting to see what I’ll do.

My manager—the girl with the gum—opens her mouth, likely to agree to the refund when the customer takes a half-drank soda and sloshes it into my face.

Cold, flat soda hits me just after I snap my eyes shut. Someone else’s soda, on my mouth, dripping from my hair, running down my neck and into my shirt.

Other people gasp and rear back with shock, but nobody stops the woman when she takes off. Not even security.

“You can go home early, but I’ll clock you out right on time, okay?” Manager Chick gives me a patronizing smile and a stiff pat on the shoulder.

I nod, and that’s how I find myself in the employee hallway in nothing but lingerie, kicking the hot dog costume. It’s not that I took it off just to kick it. It’s that the zipper broke and the whole thing split down the back, falling off my arms and to either side of my legs, right onto the floor. Leaving me wearing lingerie and sticky soda and no meet-cute. So, I’m mad. I’m furious. I’m kicking this hot dog costume’s ass.

“Customers are rude, and it’s fucking cold, and I can’t even finish my last year of college with my friends because I have to be here. I hate his music. I miss my cousin.” I have tears when I swipe an arm across my face, turn, and slam right into something hot and hard and—

Oh.

As I stumble back, I look up and there’s Tam Eyre.

I mean, there’s a guy in a black baseball cap, jacket, face mask, and sunglasses, but I can tell right away who he is. I’ve been watching too many of his videos not to recognize him. It’s all I do, in every single second that Joules isn’t watching.

And it paid off.

This is Tam.

This is Tam.

This is fucking Tam!

This is our meet-cute? my mind asks, flabbergasted. Joules was right about the curse having a terrible sense of humor. This? Me committing felony assault on a hot dog costume?

Tam reaches out and catches me with his hands around the small of my waist, fingers branding the naked skin between my baby-blue balconette bra, and the ruffly garter belt around my hips. Tam’s eyes drift down, and then flick up hard to my face.

“S-sorry,” I murmur, my brain lighting up frantically as I try to figure out how to get him to recognize me, to stop, to acknowledge me somehow. Do I remind him of the note I threw at his head? The dick he drew on my bag? Say something, Lake! Quickly! Anything!

Tam releases my waist and shrugs out of his jacket, this sea green puffer coat that matches my hair. He tosses it over my shoulders, averting his gaze.

I turn away suddenly, bending down to pick up the costume. How do I do this? This is my one chance. It’s been six weeks since I last saw him.

“Sorry, the pay is shit and the customers are rude and it’s freezing cold outside.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs behind his mask, and he takes off, his bodyguard and manager brushing suddenly past me on my right side. Neither of them stop, heading out the double doors at the end of the hall like they’re in a hurry.

Wait.

What?

No!

I drop the hot dog costume back on the floor, and I take off after him, jogging in sneakers and thigh-highs with lacy garters. Screw this. He is not getting away from me this time. I am not dying for a boy that sings about clear nights spent stargazing while undulating his pelvis. Nuh-uh. I won’t do it.

I have to catch him; this could be my only chance.

Yeah, it’ll be my only chance for sure if he thinks I’m a creeper weirdo.

I stumble out of the back doors before I come to a stop, realizing suddenly that I’m about this close to being kicked out by security. On either side of me, there’s velvet rope and rabid fans holding signs. I am on the wrong side of the rope.

Wearing lingerie.

Worse … wearing Tam’s jacket.

“That’s …” One of the girls recognizes it right away, redirecting her friend’s attention to the Tam-warmed coat on my shoulders. “Tam got that jacket as a gift from an up-and-coming designer. Who is this girl, and why is she wearing it?”

“Why is she wearing underwear?” the friend replies, and then everyone’s attention is shifting away from Tam as he disappears inside his SUV, and over to me. I turn suddenly and try to head back inside the venue.

The doors are locked.

I tug once, twice.

Luckly, I have my phone in a bag looped over my shoulder and hanging across my hip.

I turn back to the crowd, searching frantically for the nearest exit.

Tam’s bodyguard—that scary guy with the stony eyes—appears in front of me. He looks pissed. But not necessarily at me? I peer up at him, willing him to arrest me. Anything to get out of here. Now.

He takes hold of my arm and pulls me toward the SUV, climbing inside and dragging me along with him. I’m put in a captain’s chair in the center row of the Escalade—with Tam sitting directly in front of me.

He didn’t care enough to rescue me personally. Of course he didn’t. I try not to hold that against him. It’s just … I prefer a gentleman.

Tam turns to look at me around the edge of his seat, unleashing a beautiful smile that has me feeling dizzy. I’m glad I put my seat belt on out of reflex. It might be the only thing holding me up. I did it. I’m inside of a car with my Match. There’s hope.

Could be that I’m dizzy from relief, too.

I almost died out there. Those girls would’ve drawn-and-quartered me.

“We meet again, Tam Eyre,” I say, and I don’t sound as properly thrilled as I should be. He picks up on it. I can tell.

Tam takes off his sunglasses, and then tugs down his face mask.

“Is it that obvious that it’s me, even with the disguise?” he asks, and his bodyguard scoffs in annoyance. His manager makes a choking sound from the driver’s seat, and the SUV swerves a little.

Tam gives the guy a harsh look.

“Jacob, dude, I swear: if you crash right now, I’m coming for you in the afterlife. Pat has one day off this week. The guy’ll never take another day off if you crash.”

“Miss, give me your bag please.” The bodyguard holds out his hand for my purse. I hesitate briefly before taking the strap over my head and offering it out to him. It’s shaped like a watermelon slice. Again, I could not help myself. It’s too funny, and I already owned both pieces. All I did was throw the belt and the purse in my bag when I packed for this trip.

“I don’t think you have a legal right to search me, but I guess.” I sound like an asshole when I say that, but I don’t care. I’m probably right about it anyway. The man starts digging through my purse—understandable considering Tam’s level of popularity—and I realize only when he glances up at me that I have a handful of condoms free-floating in there.

My jaw drops, but I snap it shut. There’s nothing I can say now.

He hands my purse back without a word. I don’t look at him. Tam has turned back to me again, and we’re staring at each other. Do I remind him of who I am now? Will he think I’m crazy? He’ll assume I’m a stalker at this point, won’t he? I would, if I were him. Hell, I am a stalker. I am trying to trick him into falling in love with me—just like everyone else.

“Shitty job?” he asks, surprising me. He seems empathetic. “I’d have kicked the costume, too.”

I laugh.

“I wasn’t … It’s not like I took it off in order to kick it. The zipper broke and it fell off.”

Now Tam laughs.

“That sounds very likely,” he tells me, quickly losing interest to face the windshield. Damn it. I thought we had some rapport going right there.

“I’ve had worse jobs: plunging toilets, mopping up … spills.” I do not think about the vomit that I was forced to clean up. I won’t do it. I can’t think about that.

“Any particular reason you’re working jobs at every venue I’m playing at?” Tam glances back at me, reaching up to grab the bill of the black baseball cap on his head. He puts it in his lap and ruffles up his strawberry blond hair in a way that makes me feel warm and slow and like I want to smile. “Are you officially employed with the tour?”

“I—” Shit. Lies fail me. I stare into Tam’s green eyes, and I can see that I’ve been silent a lot longer than any normal person would be. The bodyguard tenses beside me, and Tam raises a hand to still him. Waiting. Still waiting. I sigh. “I told you.” I look down at my lap. “I’m cursed. I have to do this. It’s not like I have a choice. Frankly, I’m not even a fan of—” I clamp my hands over my mouth, eyes wide.

Tam just stares at me. He’s heard this trick before, remember? It’s not a trick for me. I don’t actually like his music, but I shouldn’t have said that aloud. How fucking rude. “Look,” I begin as I drop my hands to my lap. “I’m really sorry. None of this is your fault. You didn’t ask to be cursed alongside me.”

“Is it okay if we drop you off right here, miss?” Tam’s manager asks in this weird high-pitched tone, crammed with false cheer and forced calm. He thinks I’m crazy. Having me in this SUV with his star is freaking him out.

“Jacob, stop,” Tam tells him, looking annoyed. “She’s wearing nothing but lingerie. I’m not dropping her off alone on a random sidewalk in Denver. What are you even saying right now?”

“Your soft, squishy heart is going to be the death of you,” Jacob warns him, not entirely in jest. He’s at least half serious. There are plenty of famous people who’ve been assassinated.

Tam smiles at me again.

“Where do you want us to drop you off?” he asks me, his mouth becoming sharp-edged on one side. He’s being nice, but I can see it for what it is. Joules is my brother, remember? This is the look he gives to girls that he doesn’t like. He always tries to be nice, to smile, to laugh, but if he doesn’t want to date them, and they won’t leave him alone, he starts to look like this.

“We aren’t allowed to use the company car to give rides,” the manager—Jacob—continues, but Tam doesn’t respond to him, so I assume we’ll go wherever I need to go.

“I appreciate you giving me a choice,” I tell Tam with a sniff. He can read the change in my personality, and one brow quirks up in question. “Because dropping me off here would, you know, not be very conducive to safety.” I sigh and shake my head. “Wherever you’re going, just take me there. I’ll have my ride pick me up.”

Tam starts to turn back toward the front, disinterested entirely in me and what I’m saying.

Fuck this guy!

I tuck my hands angrily into the pockets of the jacket—and encounter something hard. What is … I test the object with my fingers, and my eyes widen.

Tam’s phone is in this jacket. Tam’s phone! The curse is finally throwing me a bone. I consider keeping it, a scenario playing out in my head where he calls to see where it is, and we meet up to exchange it.

But no.

That’s not what would happen. Either one of his employees would call me and then retrieve the phone for him or even more likely, he’d remotely wipe the phone, get himself a new number, and move on. Once his real number’s out there in the world, it’s compromised.

“Hey.” I draw the phone from the pocket and then reach out to tap Tam on the arm with it. His bodyguard stops me with a hand on my wrist, and I wince, dropping the phone to the ground. Tam looks back, lips parted in surprise, and he gives the bodyguard guy a look.

“Daniel, let her go,” Tam tells him, and the man releases me immediately. Huh. I’m rubbing at my wrist when Tam bends down to retrieve the phone. He looks at it, and doesn’t quite register what happened until he glances up at me. “You … gave it back?” He sounds shocked, and I roll my eyes.

“You think you’re God’s gift? So does my brother. Get in line.” I ignore him as another idea pops into my head. What if I left him a note in the pocket of the jacket, and then gave the jacket back? Would he find it? I know he’s photographed wearing this jacket a lot. It’s pretty much become iconic, so recognizable that his fans knew that I was wearing Tam’s personal outerwear.

So … I’ll leave a note then.

I dig through my purse, looking for a piece of paper. Don’t have one. What I do have is one of Aunt Lisa’s books. This one is called “Rejekt” and it’s about a werewolf alpha male who rejects his mate; she ends up falling in love with the guy who’s been raised from birth to kill him. It’s … racy. It’s also sacrilegious of me to defile one of my aunt’s books, but … I need this page.

I cringe when I rip it, trying to tear out one of the first pages, so that I’ll get the title page or something. Doesn’t work. I end up ripping out the end. Oh well. I put the page on top of the paperback for leverage, and then draw out a pen.

Daniel—bodyguard guy—watches me, but he doesn’t stop me, even if the pen makes him distinctly nervous. I suppose I could stab it into Tam’s neck or something if I were so inclined.

“Would your brother and I get along?” Tam asks belatedly, elbow on the door, chin in his hand. Weirdly like how Joules was sitting the other day. I want to scream. I can see right through Tam Eyre. He is definitely not as nice as he pretends to be.

I feel like Joules, confessing quietly that I just don’t like him.

I ignore the thought, writing the note in a bright purple pen. Do I pander to his likes or try to be honest? I wonder, but again, it’s an easy choice. I start to write.

Hi, I’m Lake. I like horror movies, and I only like rom-coms if they’re Christmas-themed. I have an obsession with researching spelunking accidents. Oh, and I’m cursed. So are you. All I need are five minutes to talk—even over text.

I write the next part sideways in the margin because there’s no more room left at the bottom of the page. The book’s actual text ends about halfway down, but I don’t pay attention to it. My aunt told me that the main character and the assassin get together, but then the assassin turns on her and kills her. He, in turn, gets killed by the alpha. All three of them meet in hell and get together. Hey, I don’t understand the plot either. Aunt Lisa loved it though, so I took it out of curiosity.

P.S. I’m just a dancing hot dog who happens to be cursed. Not a stalker. It was my dad’s idea that I should work all these stupid jobs. I add my phone number, and then consider that I might need something heavy to make sure the note doesn’t get lost. There’s not much in my purse: a tube of lip balm, a keycard for our hotel tonight, an unused tampon just in case, and a pin that reads I Love Tentacle Porn.

Crap.

That’s not even mine. I stole it from Joules to see how long it would be before he noticed that I’d taken it off his bag. Oh well. I fold the note around the pin and then put the pen carefully back in my bag while Daniel is looking. When he glances briefly toward the window, I slip the note in my pocket.

We hit a bump in the road, and my purse bounces in my lap.

Condoms go flying.

A dozen of them, shiny square packages splatting across the floor.

Tam glances back, and then he’s pursing his lips at me. His eyes dance with amusement, like he’s enjoying the show very much. I smile back at him, just as full of shit as he is.

“Lingerie, interesting choice.” This is when Tam chooses to bring it up, with condoms all over the floor. “Please tell me that I didn’t interrupt something. If I did, I’m terribly sorry.”

I have to say something; I can’t even jokingly allow him to think I have a boyfriend. The truth, but … kind of the truth. Best as I can.

“Also part of the curse,” I explain, gesturing at myself and at the condoms on the floor. “My family is nuts, and they … they think I’ll find my soulmate while I’m on this tour. That’s why I’m here. If I don’t bring him home to meet them within the year, I’ll die. In fact, they predicted that I’d run into him tonight.”

Tam looks alarmed, but he does his best to blink back the sudden spike of anxiety in his eyes. His mouth twitches, and he ruffles up his hair again.

That’s when I realize it: I did run into him.

Now it looks staged.

I am really fucking this all up.

“I wasn’t …” I gesture at the condoms. “I don’t … It’s not like I even use these.” I laugh as I bend down and scoop them back into my purse. “I wasn’t willing to …” I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. “These were just here in case I met my soulmate.” I snort with laughter. “Clearly, that isn’t happening tonight.”

That part isn’t even a lie. No way in hell that Tam Eyre is my soulmate. Just my Match. I’m not the one that picked him out. I’d trade him for somebody else if I could.

There’s a long pause there where Tam stays like that, leaned around the edge of the seat and looking at me. Better than him gazing out the window with a million other thoughts in his mind.

“Why couldn’t it be one of us?” he asks, gesturing around the SUV. He raises both brows and then turns away from me yet again. Huh. What does that even mean? Tam sounds mildly annoyed. “We’re heading for the Ritz-Carlton. You can have your ride pick you up there.”

He blatantly ignores me until we’re pulling up to the hotel, and there’s Joules, dark-haired and scowling as he leans up against the side of the rental car. “Oh, your boyfriend is here,” Tam says weirdly, as if he recognizes Joules from somewhere.

“Oh gross,” I blurt automatically, shuddering at the thought. “That’s just my brother. Ignore him, he’s an asshole.”

And then I remember that I told Tam that he reminded me of Joules. Oops.

How … how does he know that Joules is waiting here for me?

My brother stomps over to the SUV and yanks the back door open, putting Daniel into a fighting stance in the center of the vehicle. It starts to rain as I turn to look at Joules, standing next to the Escalade with a neutral press of lips. Believe it or not, this is him pretending to be nice.

Until he sees what I’m wearing.

Or lack thereof.

Joules’ eyes widen as I take my seat belt off and slide out of the SUV, slipping the jacket off my shoulders. I turn and pass it toward Tam who’s rolled down his window to watch. His eyes remain on my face as Joules curses and takes off his own hoodie, jamming it over my head. I nearly drop the jacket, but Tam leans out of the window to snag it back.

The world disappears behind the fabric of Joules’ hoodie, and then flashes back into view. Tam, leaning halfway out the window to catch his jacket, staring at me like he might truly see me this time. Really see me. This is the first time I’ve noticed it in his eyes.

I am now officially someone Tam Eyre is acquainted with. If he were to make a list and wrack his brain for names of people he knows, mine would come up.

But that’s as far as we’ve gotten.

“Thanks for the ride. Have a nice night.” I turn and saunter off, the hoodie long enough to be a dress. I’m not embarrassed anymore—even if several people outside the hotel’s front doors are staring at me. I understand that a girl in sneakers, black thigh-highs, lace garters, and high-waisted sky-blue panties is conspicuous. “Can we get something to eat? I’m weirdly starving. I mean, not weirdly, I guess, since all there was to eat today were those gross hot dogs—”

Joules snatches me by the elbow and drags me toward the car; the SUV with Tam inside of it rolls through the circular driveway.

“Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?” he asks, his voice thick with suspicion. I shove the mark on my wrist in his face because he knows I’d have said it aloud if the curse was broken. Joules sighs. “Then let me repeat,” he continues, his voice hard and angry. “Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”

“Because you told me not to,” I hiss at him, whirling around. I’m so angry that I don’t register that a car has stopped beside us. Whoever is in there will be able to hear every single thing we say. “You told me I didn’t have a choice, that rule number one in all of our ancestor’s books is—”

Joules interrupts me, leaning close to growl at me.

“I suggested that you wear that shit like any normal person would wear that shit—under their clothes. My God, Lakelynn, it’s like you want to die.” Joules mimes grabbing me by the arms. “I should just kill you myself and save us all the trouble,” he mutters under his breath.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, turning to find Tam—fucking Tam?!—standing there.

“You forgot this,” he tells me, putting something in the palm of my hand. It’s the I Love Tentacle Porn pin that I left in his jacket. Tam drops his hand from my shoulder and gives my brother an assessing look. Joules peers back at him with nothing short of pure hostility.

“Actually,” Joules snaps, hand flying out to take the pin from me, “that’s mine.”

Tam steps between us and smiles; Joules just barely misses hitting him in the chest. The mega pop star looks over his shoulder at me, and I realize that this is the curse throwing me a bone. Without these stupid meet-cutes, I’d be screwed. I keep messing up with him, have messed up every other time I’ve seen him.

“Are you okay?” he asks me, and it takes me a minute to figure out what he’s asking. Am I okay? Then … I look past him to a scowling Joules, and I think about him asking if he should kill me.

“Oh. Oh! Oh, no. Thank you, Tam, but I’m fine. Joules isn’t violent or anything; he loves me more than he loves our parents. Big brother thing. Don’t worry about him. He’d die for me if he could.”

“Try not to sound like you’re looking forward to it,” Joules snaps, shoving his hands into his pockets. He should be acting his best around Tam in order to woo him over, but my brother is just like me: he has a hard time being fake. He’s even honest with the girls he dates, warns them that he changes his mind a lot. Frankly, I’d never date someone like that.

I hope Tam is the opposite, so dedicated to Kaycee that … I hope she leaves him like Joules said she would. I really don’t want to break anyone up on purpose.

Tam gives my brother one more cursory once-over, and then turns back to me.

“Please don’t just throw my note away,” I tell him before he can leave without another word. I clasp my hands together and look up at him. He’s even taller than he looks on my phone screen. “I know it’s tempting, and I know everyone wants a piece of your time. Thomas, this is important.”

I call him by his real name on accident, and he freezes. His mouth flattens out, and I wonder if I’ve done something wrong. It’s too late to take it back now.

We look at each other, and there are no sparks. I assumed there’d be sparks. He’s handsome, no doubt about that. But he’s just a person, isn’t he? I see the armpits of his T-shirt are a bit wet from his performance tonight. This is the same shirt he was wearing onstage when singing “Let’s Just Have Coffee, My Love”. He’s probably tired and in need of a shower, hungry. Overwhelmed.

Lonely.

Here he is, just trying to get home after work to rest like everyone else, and I’m fucking up his day.

I exhale, debating between speaking up again or leaving without a word, when Tam finally cuts the silence for us. He reaches into the pocket of the jacket, pulls out my note, and walks up to me. He takes one of my hands and then adds the note right on top of the pin, folding my fingers over it.

Tam skirts around me and climbs into his SUV before Joules realizes what’s just happened.

I look down at the note.

My note.

On the final page of my aunt’s werewolf romance.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

“Did he just—” Joules snatches the paper from my hand. His eyes widen. He looks up like he might chase the SUV down the street. Wait. Isn’t this Tam’s hotel? Of course it’s not. He acted like this was his final destination, so he could find a safe spot to drop me off without revealing his real hotel.

Because he doesn’t trust me, and of course he doesn’t.

Who am I to him?

“Let’s get boba,” I tell Joules, turning to walk down the street with my hands in his hoodie pocket. He reaches out with his hand and snags my hood the way he always does. I choke as the slack runs out, and I bounce back a bit in Joules’ direction.

“You can have two boba tonight on the family credit card,” he tells me, releasing me and ruffling up my hair before he walks around me and heads in the direction of a flashing neon pink sign. Sip Of Heaven—Bubble Tea Shop. Ahhh.

I smile.

“You should’ve told him that I was your boyfriend to make him jealous. It might’ve worked. He was definitely scoping me out as a threat.”

“You’re disgusting. Please shut up.” I’m still smiling as I take Joules’ arm. “Now, please take me to boba tea and tell me about work today. You were running security in the aisles, right?”

“Three separate fights to break up,” Joules mumbles, and I nod. He takes me to the boba tea shop and then to a late-night bookstore to get a replacement novel for Aunt Lisa. I buy a few things for myself, too.

I don’t think about Tam, and I highly doubt that Tam is thinking about me.