Page 106 of The Jack*ss in Class

“I care about him too,” I admitted.

“Then trust him,” Abuela said simply. “Trust someone besides your fabulously fantastic abuela with the truth of who you are.”

“I already did,” I whispered, and her eyebrows rose in surprise.

Before she could respond, Flynn jogged over, phone in hand. “I told you those sunglasses would look awesome on him.”

For a few hours, surrounded by Abuela’s cooking, Tio Pedro’s stories while we ate, Flynn’s laughter, and Burrito stealing all of the tortillas, I almost believed that everything would be okay. Almost.

When I returned to the sorority house that evening, the door to my room was locked from the inside. I knocked softly, then harder when there was no response.

“Parker? You in there?”

The lock clicked and the door opened just enough for Parker’s purple-haired head to peek out. Her eyes widened when she saw me, then she yanked me inside, shutting and re-locking the door in one fluid motion.

“Thank god you’re back. I thought you weren’t going to be home until tomorrow,” she said, immediately returning to her desk where three different laptops were set up, screens glowing with code I couldn’t begin to understand. “I’ve been damage controlling all day.”

“What?” My heartbeat accelerated. “You have?”

Parker swiveled in her chair, dark circles under her eyes revealing she hadn’t slept much. “Someone posted that Miranda Milan lives in Colorado. Not your real name yet, but now the rumors are flying that she is a college student and they said there’s a sorority connection.”

My legs gave out and I sank onto my bed. I closed my eyes and imagined Flynn’s arms around me and Burrito’s fur beneath my fingers. When I could breathe again, I looked back at Parker. “How bad is it?”

“Could be worse,” Parker said, turning back to her screens. “The source was anonymous, posted on some entertainment blog. I’ve been running interference,planting misinformation, making comments disappear, and tracking the IP addresses that seem most interested in the story.”

I stared at her. “You can do that?”

She shot me an offended look. “Cybersecurity major, remember? This is literally what I’m trained to do, a whole-ass degree in keeping my roommate’s secret identity as a smut-writing superstar under wraps.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “I’ve already planted red herrings suggesting Miranda Milan is actually at Boulder, Fort Collins, and even Durango.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Parker, I?—”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she cut in. “I think the immediate fire is contained, but this is just the beginning. Someone knows, Tempest. Someone who was willing to talk.”

Was there really someone at FlixNChill that was this adamant that revealing my identity was going to make the show a bigger deal? This had to just be a publicity stunt on their end. Maybe I wouldn’t sign those contracts after all. Even if the deal was worth literally millions of dollars.

“And, I think you’ve got someone else on your side. There’s a bunch of other accounts posting some crazy-ass shit that’s kind of believable. Look.” She pointed to a FaceSpace group for romance readers. “This Romance Reader Princess says she heard you’re not from Colorado but every other place on the planet that starts with C. You’ve been Californian, Canadian, and even Cambodian today.”

Huh. Okay, that was good, I guessed.

“And this person, Mint Milan, thinks you’re a wholegroup of literary fiction authors who were bored with their own genre and banded together to write and market the books.”

Well, that was a weird theory.

“Although my favorite popped up in the Kelsey Best fan group and said she’s the one writing your books and Penelope Quinn, better known as Bestie’s Bestie, is hilariously not denying it.”

Oh that was good. If the Besties joined the cause of thinking one of the world’s biggest pop stars authored my books, I might actually be okay. For a while.

“I haven’t dug deep enough to find out who they are, because I was too busy taking advantage of their rumor spreading skills.” She took a long swig from an energy drink can. “But you should prepare yourself. Secrets this big don’t stay buried forever.”

I hugged my arms around myself. “Who do you think leaked it?”

“No idea yet. But I’m working on it.” Parker’s expression softened. “How was LA otherwise? You and Flynn hung out? Do anything else besides negotiate multi-million dollar deals? Is he going to sign with the Bandits? Oh my god, are you going to move to LA with him?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I held up my hands, but a small smile broke through my panic. “I did hang out with him. He knows everything.”

“Told you,” Parker said smugly. “That boy is head over cleats for you. Wait. Everything? Like...”

“Everything.” I allowed myself one moment to revel in the happiness and joy and... love I’d experienced this week before the utter catastrophe.

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