I’m mid-sniff inside one of Jett’s shirts. The soft fabric against my face as I pretend it’s his huge chest I’m snuggling into.
I let out a little mewl of longing when someone in the doorway interrupts me by clearing their throat.
It startles me, and I flush with embarrassment.
“I was just—” I say out of reflex, ready for someone to shout at me for doing the wrong thing.
But it’s not my boss or anyone like him.
I recognize her face. And not just from tonight. But I just can’t place it…
She’s someone Jett pulled from the crowd as I watched from the stage.
“You’re the girl they sawed in half,” I blurt out. Blushing hard with true embarrassment.
Sounding like an idiot.
She’s no girl. And my comment only makes her smile wider.
This one. Cindy, I think is her name. She’s the type all the guys go for.
Tall, leggy with a chest as big and fake as her hair.
Perfect skin and teeth and a figure that Malibu Barbie would give her left eye for.
Is that a wig? Nobody can have that much hair.
“You’re that girl Jett dragged up on stage,” she murmurs, rolling her eyes and glancing around. “Should you even be in here?” she snaps.
Her eyes narrowed on my hands still clutching Jett’s shirt.
As if she owns it, or owns him…
Why would a random girl from the crowd be back here?
What, like you are?
Maybe Jett has a dozen of them after every show…
The thought isn’t a happy one and I shift on my feet, uneasy as I let the shirt go.
“Jett’s expecting me to wait here,” I explain, trying to hold my ground but I sound unconvincing.
Cindy doesn’t look impressed or convinced either.
“I think I’ll just go get someone,” she says, stepping back slowly. As if she’s dealing with a crazed fan in Jett’s dressing room sniffing his costumes.
I should be relieved when Jett reappears behind her, but I’m not.
He grabs a hold of her and practically lifts her out of his way. His huge hands on her tiny hips.
“Woah there, Cindy. You nearly backed right into me,” he says, smiling down at her as she continues to look unimpressed by my presence.
“I see you’ve met Penelope,” Jett continues, his smile falling once our eyes meet.
I’ve been made fun of most of my life. Been the butt of more jokes than I care to remember, and I don’t feel like hanging around to set myself up for whatever punch line’s coming next.
A leggy blond he just happened to pluck from the audience?
I don’t think so.
I might be young, a little naive, but I’m certainly not stupid.
I can see the way she’s looking at him.
“Penelope?” Jett asks, looking concerned, but I’m already shoving past him.
Past them both.
Trying to shove past my own history of being the subject of every windup and practical joke involving thick girls…
People like Cindy on the arm of the jocks like Chad Beckett.
And yeah. People like Jett Masters of course.
Stupid.
Idiot!
You really thought he wanted you?
“I have to go.” Is the best I can manage. Tears stinging my eyes.
Tears for being dumb enough to think Jett actually liked me, but more tears because I have no way of getting home either.
Not even enough for a cab ride back to my own crappy existence.
After hitting some dead ends with locked fire escapes and doors marked ‘No Exit’, I somehow manage to find my way back to familiar territory.
Public access areas in the huge arena, still swarming with people, dizzy as I struggle to get past, desperate to find a way out.
“There you are!” A familiar voice calls out, and I feel a heavy, damp hand on my wrist.
Tony freaking Favela.
“I thought I’d lost ya. Did you see how I handled Jett? Did you see how quick he was to give me whatever I wanted?” he boasts.
Ugh.
I feel my stomach turn, but at least I might not be thumbing a ride home after all.
“Hey?” Tony asks, turning me to face him. “You crying?”
It’s a rare moment of the closest thing to concern from the man, but I only sniff and mumble something about allergies.
“Well, don’t go getting’ sick on me. You got double time to make up, starting first thing tomorrow,” he reminds me.
I can only nod silently.
Numbed by the last few minutes of what should have been the night of my life.
“Let’s get outta here,” he says quickly, the effects of him not being able to smoke inside for so long starting to show.
As much as I can’t wait to leave, a part of me is still hurt. Wanting answers from Jett. Why did he single me out?
But I guess I won’t be seeing him again anytime soon.
Not even in my dreams. I promise myself.
I decide to pull up my big girl panties and accept the facts. Accept the scientific evidence: No short, thick set girl gets to be with the perfect men who just happen to be rich and famous.