ADA

Thanks to those pictures of Liam and me kissing in Central Park, there was a mob of photogs waiting for me outside my apartment building this morning. I could hardly walk down the sidewalk, forget about snapping any of my own shots of actual celebrities. Alanis Morissette couldn't write irony this good.

It's a relief to have a break from all the chaos this afternoon. Agnes has us interns working in the office, stuffing gift bags for the StarTracker party, which The Huntley Agency sponsors every summer.

Unfortunately, I can't seem to keep myself from glancing up at the scoreboard every few minutes. No matter how many times I look at it though, the numbers don't change. Chrissy's officially tied me for the lead.

The pictures she took of Liam and me in Bethesda Terrace sold for so much money, she easily closed the gap between us. To add insult to my already smarting ego, Agnes refused to award me any points for them, saying, "You obviously weren't staging shots for the other photographers since you were hiding from them."

I couldn't argue with that. Helping Huntley sell photographs was the last thing on my mind when I was with Liam last night. But Agnes didn't mention any stipulations when we made our deal, so I don't think she's being entirely fair.

Chrissy keeps smiling in this self-satisfied way as we sit on Agnes's office floor, shoving one absurdly valuable item after another into the glittery, silver bags.

It used to baffle me that celebs would want to attend an event thrown by a tabloid magazine. But after seeing what goes into these bags, it's no wonder. The swag is worth at least twenty grand. Tyler legit fell off his chair when Agnes pulled out a box of diamond Cartier rings. And that isn't even the swankiest thing in there.

There are private safaris, levitating blue tooth speakers, certificates for a year's supply of luxury cosmetics, underarm sweat patches—which I'd never heard of before but totally want to try—and so much more. If someone was going to give me a bag like this, I'd show up to their party, regardless of how annoying I thought they were.

"Quite frankly, Philip, that's a bullshit offer." The bite in Agnes's words has me grateful I'm not on the receiving end of that phone call. "We both know I can sell these photos for four times as much to the dozen other magazines whose editors haven't decided to shove their heads up their asses this morning."

Chrissy catches my eye and mouths, "Yikes," as she stuffs gift certificates into the row of bags spread across the floor in front of her.

That's the closest she's come to speaking to me since I blocked her shots that night when we left the Rainbow Room. I'd be relieved if I didn't know her sudden change of heart was due to her new standing on the leaderboard.

The idea of having less drama at work is definitely appealing. Dealing with Elodie being mad at me is enough to keep my stomach in almost constant knots already. She was so distant with me when I stopped by Jitters this morning, I didn't dare mention the kiss. I'm sure she's seen the photos, but she doesn't know it was real. Not sharing something like that with my best friend makes me feel off-kilter. It's almost like it didn't really happen until I can tell her about it.

"Say one more number like that, and I swear to God, I'm hanging up this phone and calling TMZ." Agnes smacks a hand on her desk, and we all jump.

My phone dings, and I'm quick to silence it, not wanting to bring Agnes's wrath down on myself. She's so engrossed in her conversation she doesn't notice.

I sneak it out of my bag, keeping it out of her line of sight. I register Liam's name on the screen, and it's like someone let a pinball loose inside my chest.

Liam: Do you have plans tomorrow night?

A smile spreads across my lips. I put a hand over my mouth to hide it, but the giddiness that fills me at the idea of seeing Liam has me beaming like a spotlight.

Me: I knew you were obsessed with me, but this is getting ridiculous.

Liam: Who follows who around with a camera all day?

Me: It's a tough job, but someone has to do it.

Liam: Ace.

Liam: I'm trying to ask you on a date here.

Liam: Come to the StarTracker party with me? I really want to see you.

I put a hand to my sternum to check my heart's still beating, because it sure felt like it just stopped.

I'm supposed to be standing with the rest of the press, photographing the stars arriving for the event, not working the red carpet with my not-so-fake boyfriend. But the thing is I really, really want to see Liam too. And not from behind a barricade with a hundred other photogs.

Going as Liam's date would mean not getting any shots of my own. But since we're the hottest couple in New York City, pictures of us together would sell for a lot of money, maybe enough to put me back in the lead. As long as Agnes will give me points for them anyway.

"That I can agree to, Phillip." A victorious glint sparks in Agnes's eyes. "But don't try lowballing me again. You know it's a waste of time."

Tyler, Chrissy, and I all stare as Agnes hangs up the phone, muttering something about "morons" under her breath. She glances up, one stern eyebrow cocked at us. Hurriedly, we go back to filling gift bags as though we weren't just eavesdropping on her conversation.

Agnes begins gathering her things from her desk: Prada bag, both her iPhones, thermos, day planner. "I've got to pick up my dress for the event tomorrow. Do you all understand when and where you're supposed to be?"

"Yes, ma'am," Tyler says like the suck up he is.

My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I try to work up enough courage to ask her if I can go to the party.

"Good." Agnes twists a key off her ring and hands it to Chrissy. "Miss Sanderson, be sure to lock up the office when you're all finished. If one single item goes missing from these bags, I'm taking it out of your paychecks from now until the end of eternity. Is that clear?"

We all nod. Chrissy's expression is gloating as Agnes hands her the key, clearly delighted she's being chosen for the responsibility over Tyler or me. The desire to wipe the self-satisfied look off her face is apparently all the motivation I needed.

"Actually, Agnes," I blurt, "I was wondering if it would be okay if I went to the event with Liam."

Agnes's eyes blink wide like she's surprised by my nerve.

"He asked me to be his date," I hurry to explain. "And I just thought since photographs of us are selling so well, they might be good for the agency."

Agnes's mouth flattens into a hard line as she considers me. The big, old-fashioned clock on her wall tick, tick, ticks, and my pulse bumps along with it.

"Fine. You can go, but you'd better make sure Huntley gets the best shots of you two."

"Absolutely. As long as I get points for the photos that sell." The words come out point-blank, and I almost clap my hand over my mouth. I don't want to piss Agnes off right now.

But her eyebrows lift in a way that makes me think she's more impressed than angry. I remember how she said she needed photographers who were willing to do anything it takes to sell photographs. She doesn't need to know this is about more than selling pictures for me.

"Alright. But if you're going to spend the evening with Liam, I expect some intel by Monday." Agnes gives me a sharp look before shoving her phones in her bag and standing.

My stomach clenches. There's no way I can help Agnes uncover whatever Liam's hiding. But I also can't tell her that and risk her giving the assignment to Chrissy or Tyler, so I shut my mouth and nod.

"But, Agnes," Chrissy argues. "She's obviously not faking a relationship with Liam Anders anymore, I don't think it's fair—"

Agnes cuts her off. "I will decide what is and is not fair in this company. Not you."

Chrissy nods, biting her lips together as though trying to keep herself from saying anything more. Tyler catches my eye, shaking his head at me in disgust.

"Good. I'll see you all tomorrow night. Don't be late."

With that Agnes hustles out the room, leaving the lingering scent of coffee and Chanel No. 5 in her wake.

"Break room?" Tyler pushes himself to his feet, offering Chrissy a hand. It's obvious from the way he keeps his back to me that I'm not invited to join them.

"Sure." Chrissy lets him pull her to her feet. "It feels a little crowded in here." She glares at me.

So much for not having drama at work. I heave a sigh through my nose as the door swings shut behind them. I can hear them muttering to each other as they walk across the hall, and I open up my texts.

Me: You've got yourself a date.

Me: I don't have anything to wear though.

Liam: We've got you covered. See you soon, Ace.

Before I have the chance to wonder who 'we' is, my phone lights up with a video call. I don't recognize the number on the top of the screen, but I'd know the face anywhere.

It's Faye Donovan.