Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
I’m working hard to block out the whispers from a group of girls as we pass.
“…Flip Madden’s girlfriend…”
“…have you seen the pictures…”
“…do you think Romero…”
“Rumors are the gateway to stupidity and opinionless drones,” Cammie shouts cheerfully before turning to me. “I vote we find a patch of sun and hang out like lazy cats.”
“As long as that patch of sun does not include people churning the gossip mill, I’m game.”
Hemi had hoped my appearance at the special needs hockey gala on Friday would replace some of the nonsense, but it went completely under the radar. Probably because it had nothing to do with Flip Madden’s sex life.
I pull out my phone and send Fee a message that we’re on our way. She replies with a selfie at one of the outdoor tables at the campus café. We’re having a warm early-March blip. The temperature is in the mid-teens, which means guys are wearing shorts and T-shirts, and half the girls on campus are in tanks despite there still being snow on the ground. March is a weird month in Ontario.
I show Cammie my phone. “Looks like Fee’s already on it.”
I tip my face up as we leave the building, welcoming the warmth of the sun on my skin. But my joy is short-lived.
“There she is!” someone shouts.
“What the hell is going on?” a guy to my right asks.
Suddenly Cammie and I are surrounded, microphones shoved in our faces, cameras clicking incessantly.
“The fuck?” I grab for Cammie’s hand, panic taking over.
“Tallulah! Tallulah! Is it true you’ve been secretly dating Flip Madden for years?”
“Tallulah! Are your parents separated because of your relationship with one of the Terror players?”
“Is it true that Flip has been pursuing you since you were in high school?”
“Are you and Flip Madden also involved with Quinn Romero?”
Cammie steps in front of me, acting as a human shield. It would be more effective if she wasn’t a head shorter. She points at each of the reporters. “No, no, no, and maybe leave Quinn Romero out of your weird, incessant obsession with Flip Madden’s sex life.” She takes a step back, forcing me to do the same.
“Are you also involved with Flip and Tallulah?” a reporter asks her.
“Gandalf on a cracker.” I can practically hear Cammie rolling her eyes. “No, you creepy weirdo. I have my own hockey player.”
Mob mentality setting in like a bad psychology experiment as people pull their phones out and start recording.
“Go back inside,” Cammie orders as the reporters shout more questions.
I spin around and push back through the sea of bodies. People close in on me and real terror takes hold. What if I get trampled? What if I can’t reach safety?
“You’re okay. I’m right behind you!” Cammie shouts. “Get out of the way! Emergency!”
We push through the doors, back into the building. Cammie slips in front of me—the perks of being pocket-sized—and grabs my hand. She pulls me down the hall and ducks into one of the gender-neutral bathrooms locking the door behind us.
I slide down the wall and tuck my head between my knees. My head is spinning, and I can’t catch my breath.
“Hey, hey. I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re okay, Tally.” Cammie’s hands settle on my knees. “You’re having a panic attack. Just breathe, okay?”
I burst into tears, sucking in lungfuls of air between sobs, the adrenaline rocketing through me. Cammie sounds far away. A phone rings. I can’t take a full breath.
“She’s here with me. We’re in a bathroom. She’s safe. She can’t right now. Yeah, that’s her. No. No. That’s a really fucking bad idea. You cannot come here. I’ll share her location. I have a plan. I’ll get her off campus so you can come to her. I’m hanging up now so I can help her through this.”
Hands settle on my knees again. “Tallulah, I need you to look at me.”
“I can’t breathe,” I hiccup and sob again.
“Can you drink this?” Cammie holds out a bottle of water.
I shake my head.
“I’m really sorry for what I’m about to do.”
Cold water splashes my face.
I suck in a breath. “What the fuck?”
She blots my cheeks with paper towels. “I’m sorry. I needed to snap you out of it. You were in a spiral,” she explains. “I love you and promise that was less than ten percent backwash.”
I laugh and then start crying again.
“It’s okay.” She hugs me. “I’m going to call Chase, okay? We’re going to get you out of here and off campus.”
“How? The media are everywhere.”
“You let me handle it.” She calls Chase and puts him on speakerphone. “Hey, babe, are you at the apartment?”
“Sure am. You coming home soon? You want to try that new po—”
She cuts him off. “You’re on speakerphone.”
“Okay. Cool. What’s up?”
“The media mobbed us as soon as we left class.”
“They’re following Tally again?”
It happened outside the apartment on my way home from rehearsal yesterday, but there were only a couple, and they couldn’t follow me into the building.