LIAM

"The subway's not that bad. Stickier than I remember, but not terrible." I glance over at Ada, who's sitting on the stiff, plastic bench next to me. The car lurches, nearly sending my bag plummeting to the ground along with the insanely expensive camera I stopped to buy on my way to meet her this morning. I'll probably never use the damn thing again. Catching it, I set it on the floor at my feet.

Ada swivels to face me, eyebrow quirked and lips puckered in an expression that's equal parts irritation and loathing.

"Okay, Ryan Gosling," she snaps, "this is not what riding the subway is like. Most people can't have their bodyguard kick everyone off just so they have a seat." She waves a hand, gesturing around the space that smells overwhelmingly like motor oil and metal. It's now entirely empty except for the two of us, Briggs, and the security team he insisted on bringing.

"You probably made people late for work," Ada continues. "They could get fired. You should feel really, really bad about yourself right now."

"Hey, that wasn't my idea." I hold my hands. "That was all Briggs." I look over at him, and he glares. To say he isn't thrilled about this outing is an understatement. He tried to convince me to call it off, insisting the whole thing was a major threat to my personal safety. But the tabloids are going to lose their minds over shots of me chasing down photographs of other celebs. They'll be plastered all over the internet by lunch. I can't think of a better way to show Ackerman I'm willing to cooperate with the paparazzi than by becoming one myself. At least for the day anyway.

"I didn't hear you complaining when you got to sit on this spacious bench instead of cramming into the aisle with a hundred other people," I mutter to Ada.

She scoffs. "I literally saw a dude pee all over one of these benches last week, so you're not exactly doing me any favors."

As though to prove her point, she pushes to her feet, standing in the deserted walkway. But just as she's reaching for the grab rail, the car jolts again. Her hand flails through the air, missing the bar, and she topples forward, body hurtling toward me. I reach out, but before I can catch her, she slams into me. Her shoulder bangs against my sternum as she tumbles onto my lap. I let out a grunt, wincing as her hand lands right on my crotch.

"Oh my God." Ada snatches her hand away, scrambling backward off me as I bend forward, breathing through the pain that radiates through my gut. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Ewww!" she squeals.

"Ew?" I turn to her, incredulous, balls aching like they've got a goddamn migraine. "You just smashed my junk, and all you can say is ew? You know, a normal person would apologize after almost dismembering someone."

Ada doesn't bother looking at me, let alone apologizing as she unzips her camera bag and starts frantically digging through it.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Looking for hand sanitizer obviously." She pulls out a miniature bottle of Purell and squeezes an absurd amount into the palm of her hand.

"You're ridiculous. You do realize that, right?" I can't count the number of times girls have attempted to cop a feel since Cipher aired. And here she is, acting like she contracted the bubonic plague by touching me.

Her phone dings and she fishes it out her bag. Her eyes widen as she reads the screen and leaps to her feet again. I cover my crotch on instinct. She rolls her eyes but manages to successfully grab the rail this time.

"We're getting off at the next stop," she says.

"I thought we were going uptown?"

"Change of plans. Ariani posted a picture of the plantain waffles she's having at Nosh. We need to get over there, so we can photograph her leaving."

"Ariani? As in Ariani Shahzad?"

"Duh." Ada shoves a strand of wavy hair out of her face.

"You seriously want me to star stalk one of my best friends?" I might have signed up for this, but Ariani will never let me hear the end of it if I have to follow her around the city, taking her picture.

"No one's forcing you to come. By all means, stay here." Ada shrugs like she couldn't care less, but a gloating smile stretches across her face. "You can just forfeit the bet."

I heave a sigh through my nose, glancing out at the lights streaking past the dark windows. This is too good an opportunity to prove to Ackerman and everyone else that I'm not the tool the press has made me out to be. Besides, there's no way in hell I'm about to let her win this bet. I haul myself to my feet, swinging my camera bag over my shoulder and glowering at her as the subway glides to a stop. "You're a horrible human being."

"Yeah, well, you're disgusting," she says, but she's grinning as she turns and strides to the exit. The black and gray yoga pants she's wearing are snug, and I can't keep my eyes from drifting down to her ass for a split second as she walks away.

Briggs clears his throat. I look up, and he raises his eyebrows at me. I shake my head and train my gaze on the ground as I trail Ada through the automatic doors.