After we were done, I got changed out of my rock-chick outfit. I tried not to rush the process, but I found myself pulling my clothes on roughly, eager to feel more myself in a pair of jeans and my favorite old, worn leather jacket.

When we’d wrapped up, Johnnie had the audacity to try to kiss me again. On the mouth. I was becoming more and more glad Faith had been the one to leave him after their liaison on the night of my party. Lord knows he deserved the occasional bruising to his ego.

Fortunately I’d managed to twist out of Johnnie’s grip at the last second and his kiss had landed on my cheek instead. He’d actually looked wounded.

I’d given both Levi and Emilio a quick peck on the cheek to make a point: See? You all get goodbye kisses! Then I’d frozen when I realized that meant I had to kiss Gabe as well.

When I’d darted a look over at the drums, I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or deflated to see that he had already left the set and was somewhere else.

I finished dressing and went to scoop up my bag then shot it an annoyed glance. My cell phone was ringing from somewhere inside the bag. I really didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now. I sighed and rifled through the contents so I could see who was calling. It was my publicist, Alana. For a brief second I considered letting it go to voicemail, but then I hit ‘accept’. She’d just keep ringing if I didn’t answer, or worse, pay my mother and I another visit at home.

“Hi, Alana.” I did my best to sound chirpy.

“Chloe. Well done. They’ve already sent me some stills from the shoot and it looks great. I’m so glad you decided to go through with it.”

“Me too.” I wasn’t good at holding grudges at the best of times. “It was a lot of fun,” I admitted.

“The images have captured that too, which is great. Do I have your permission to start releasing some of them to the media?”

“I’d like to see them first, but send them through and I’ll look at them as soon as I get home.” I wasn’t due back on-set until tomorrow for the movie Faith and I were filming.

“Great. You and Johnnie look like you kissed and made up.”

I rolled my eyes and it was probably just as well she couldn’t see me. “Not really. Johnnie’s just like that.”

“What? Hard to resist?”

“No! He’s so touchy feely. I honestly wish he’d just learn to keep his hands to himself. At least I know better now than to trust him.”

“This is all going to work out, you’ll see.”

“As long as you make it explicit that we are not an item, I hope so.”

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind on that?”

I had to give Alana points for trying. If Johnnie and I were a couple, it would create masses of publicity for us, but no way was I going there.  Gabe, on the other hand? My contemplative smile faded. There was no chance of anything happening between us now after the mess with Johnnie.

“Absolutely not,” I told her. “As far as I’m concerned, Faith can have Johnnie Walsh all to herself.” I snapped my mouth shut and cringed. Whoops. Me and my big mouth.

“Faith Martin?”

I rushed to reply. “Johnnie was flirting with Faith the night of the party, that’s all.” That sounded plausible, didn’t it?

“Isn’t she a bit old for him?”

I tensed at her doubtful tone and immediately felt protective of Faith. “So long as she’s female and gorgeous, I don’t think Johnnie is worried about age.”

“No, that’s true. He didn’t seem worried about taking advantage of you.”

I coughed and felt my anger resurface. “Is that what everyone is saying?” God! When was I going to lose the innocent image? Maybe by the time I was thirty?

I heard Alana sigh. “No, it’s quite clear you’re kissing him back in the video, but there are some media outlets suggesting it was a questionable way for you to lose your virginity.”

“My virginity!” I inhaled a shaky breath and collapsed onto the nearby sofa because my legs suddenly felt weak.

“You know how it is. You grow up in the media there’s going to be a lot of attention when you come of age,” Alana continued, oblivious to my horror.

Alana’s casual explanation did not ease my distress. I knew better than anyone what constant media scrutiny was like, but I had never breathed a word to anyone about the ‘V-word’, least of all to her.

“I still don’t see how that topic has come up for discussion,” I told her.

“It was a steamy video, it’s kind of hard to avoid.”

I let out a cry of frustration but forced myself to lower my voice again. “But I dated Jayden!”

Jayden Cross was a young actor like myself. Years ago we’d starred in the same sitcom, School Daze, and we’d kept in touch ever since. We’d reconnected at a celebrity event when I was sixteen and discovered there was more between us than just friendship. Unfortunately, that ‘something more’ had never actually eventuated. We’d tried to date for about six months, but our hectic filming schedules had gotten in the way. We’d soon realized that whatever that ‘something more’ was, it wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship.

Of course the media had tried to turn it into a big story and there’d been rumors of him cheating—all lies. In fact, Jayden and I had stayed in touch and we used to message each other with the worst headline we could find about our tragic love story and laugh about it. Obviously I was deeply scarred by my first love.

“Two cute child stars getting together for a few months doesn’t equate to you losing your virginity in the media’s eyes,” Alana told me, cutting through my thoughts.

“Jayden and I were very close,” I persisted, not prepared to discuss my virginity with my publicist.

Alana snorted. “Not as close as you and Johnnie were at your party. Are you still sticking with the same response?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “You can tell them it was a heated kiss. That’s all.”

“You don’t need to be ashamed of the fact you’re a virgin, you know. We could approach the media with a story angle—”

“We what?” I put a hand to my head, because it suddenly hurt. How on earth did she know I was still a virgin? “I don’t remember ever discussing this with you, do you?” I continued. “And whether I’m a virgin or not is no one’s business, and that includes my publicist.”

“Your mother didn’t seem to think so.”

I was stunned into silence.

“Chloe.” Alana’s voice was almost gentle—if that was possible for a woman who appeared more like a mannequin than a human being. “Your mother and I have been working together for almost twenty years. It’s come up.”

I needed a new publicist. And I probably needed to tell my mother a whole lot less in future. For example, that time Mama had checked in to ensure I was taking the necessary precautions when I was with Jayden, I had blurted that we hadn’t done anything yet. We’d broken up shortly after and she’d obviously put two and two together that nothing serious had happened between us.

But now wasn’t the time to worry about any of that. “Fine. I’d prefer you didn’t know that piece of information but seeing as you do, make sure it stays private. Can you do that?”

“Yes, of course. But if I tell the media it was only a heated kiss with Johnnie, that’s going to imply you’re still a virgin. Is that what you want?”

I resisted a groan. She had a good point. No, I didn’t want everyone speculating about whether or not I was still a virgin, but I didn’t want Gabe thinking I’d slept with Johnnie either. “Fine. Our official response is ‘no comment’. Beyond that, let them speculate all they want.” Talk about a train wreck.

“Got it. Let me know which images you’re happy to use when you get back.”

“Sure. Bye, Alana.” I threw my cell into my bag, my hand shaking. After all the nerves about seeing Johnnie and Gabe again, I thought the day hadn’t gone too badly. Trust Hollywood to put a stop to any positive feelings. Maybe that was why child stars turned to alcohol or drugs . . .

Nope. It wasn’t going to happen. I was far too practical. I already knew I loathed hangovers, and as for drugs, I hated who Damon became when he smoked pot. Harder drugs could hardly be an improvement.

Perhaps I could become a sex addict and go on a crazy manhunt for all the world to see.

I sighed. That didn’t appeal either. The sad truth was I had the good-girl reputation for a reason, and deep down I wanted my first time to be with someone special. Call me a romantic, but I kind of hoped that my first-time man might stick around for a while, too. I wasn’t sure I believed in forever love. I hadn’t had enough good examples growing up due to my parent’s rocky marriage—but a girl could dream, right?

The same way I hoped for a good guy for Faith, I wished the same for me as well. It wasn’t likely to be anytime soon on account of recent events, but I was still young.

I picked up my bag. I was done brooding. It simply took too much energy and it was far too depressing. Such was the life of an eternal optimist. Once I got home, removed my make-up, maybe did a half-hour on the treadmill, showered, and then rewarded myself with some food, I knew I’d be back to my normal self.

I slung the bag over my shoulder and turned toward the door. And froze.

“Gabe. What are you doing here?”