Page 44 of I'll Be the One

He glances away and runs his hand through his hair. “It’ll make coordinating practices a lot easier this week. You said you wanted to practice during the week as well, right? Since we’re so short on time.”

I’d totally forgotten I said that during practice. Was that what Henry had been nervous about this entire time? “Oh, sure!”

I type in my number, and he texts me a quick message. My phone buzzes.

Henry’s mouth slides into a lopsided grin. “Okay, good,” he says. “So you didn’t give me the number for the Rejection Hotline.”

I snort. “I don’t hate you, you know. At least not yet. Talk to me a week from now and that might change.”

Henry raises his eyebrows at me in mock surprise. “Guess you’re not one for ‘friendly competition.’”

“We can be friendly,” I amend. “But I’m still going to win.”

He laughs, and his smile is so genuine that it makes me grin, too.

Wow, I think before I can stop myself.I wish he smiled like that more often.

I look away to add his number to my contacts. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself I’m doing.

“Is this your personal number?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Henry replies, sounding puzzled. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, I don’t know. Aren’t celebrities supposed to be reallysecretive of their personal information or something? The last time you called me, it was from a ‘No Caller ID’ number.”

“Oh, I was actually using Portia’s phone because I didn’t have mine with me. And she likes to keep things private since she has kids. As for me, well...” He grins. “Iamsecretive. You’re the only person I’ve shared my number with in a long time. The only person besides Portia and Steve that I’ve genuinely interacted with for a long time, really.”

He winces, as if he’s mentally kicking himself for admitting the last part to me.

“Wait,” I say. “What do you mean? Do you... not have any friends?”

“Not anymore. The last real ones I had were from school. Before my parents decided to homeschool me.”

“Oh... did something happen?” I’m trying so hard to be sensitive that my voice goes way higher than usual. Hearing rumors that someone is friendless is one thing, but hearing them say it directly with their own mouth is a totally different, way sadder experience.

Just then, the car rolls to a stop.

“We’re here,” says Portia.

Unmistakable relief crosses Henry’s face.

“See you later, Skye,” he says.

Another day, another mystery, I think as I slide out of the SUV.

“Skye!”

I startle, because I wasn’t expecting anyone to be home. Butthen I remember. Dad’s back this weekend. It’s not his regular week to be home, but he promised he’d be home to watch the premiere with me.

Sure enough, when I turn around, I see that Dad’s out in the garden, pruning some of the bushes. Or at least, he was. Now he’s just staring slack-jawed at the SUV as it drives off, his shears frozen in midsnip.

“Ya,” he whispers, as though Henry and his staff could hear us from miles away. “Whose car was that? Is it some celebrity’s?”

I give Dad a wary look, since I don’t know how much he knows about pop culture.

“It’s Henry Cho,” I say. “He’s a model—”

Dad gasps. “Henry Cho? I follow him on Instagram!”

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