Did he actually just say that? I look at Nick and notice that he is staring at me with a huge grin plastered onto his beautiful face.

"Did you cheat?" I ask skeptically. He had nailed every fact, chances are, he used the internet.

"Nope," he says. "I'm just physic." He grins again, giving me a thumbs-up.

I giggle, rolling my eyes.

"I'm kidding," he says after a moment. "Jaimie talks about your mother 24/7, and occasionally she throws in a few facts about you. Like when you graduated from middle school and tripped walking off the stage. I heard about it."

I frown. That can't be good.

Nick leans forward, propping his chin up on his fist. "I know everything about you," he says teasingly. "From your mother's perspective, that is."

Unable to help it, I feel my cheeks flush with color. How long has he known about me? I only met him a day ago, but it seems that he met me a long time ago. "Why do you call your mother by her first name?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

Nick sighs, losing his happy grin, and I almost feel guilty. "Jaimie isn't my real mom," he finally states. "My father divorced my birth mom, Richelle, and soon after he met Jaimie and fell in love with. They got married, but later Jaimie found out that my dad was cheating on her, so they divorced." He scratches his forehead, tousling his hair.

I bite my tongue. "Oh," is all I can struggle out.

"That's why you've never met me before," Nick continues, staring at me earnestly. "Jaimie has always wanted to keep me away from celebrity girls because she thinks that famous people aren't trustworthy. My dad had been a big-time actor for most of his life, and he was used to marrying and divorcing and cheating on women. She hates him for it. She didn't become an actress until after she vowed to never have any relationship with a celebrity again."

I decide to change the subject again. "Did you see the stupid magazine cover article about me being a liar?"

"Yeah, I read it," Nick replies. Suddenly his face flushes. "Did you, er, read the whole thing?" He uncomfortably scratches his neck.

What does that mean? " Um, no," I reply. I distinctly remember throwing Austin's iPad down right before class had started.

"Let me show you," Nick says, pulling his phone out from the breast pocket of his shirt. He turns it on and I can't help but crane my neck to see the screen as he finds the article. He scrolls to the part he wants to show me and turns the screen so I can read it easily.

Glam Magazine later spoke with the son of Tanner's co-star, Nicholas Garner. When we questioned him about his possible relationship with Micah, he had a sprightly reply. He confirmed that as of the party, he and Micah were dating.

"We're going out for dinner and then a movie," he stated, sounding particularly excited. Nick also noted that it was his first date ever.

I stop reading and look up at Nick. First date?!

Nick waves me away. "Don't ask, just read," he commands.

I obey.

Later, we found Tanner's bodyguard, Turner, partying with a group of women, showing his flirtatious side. Reporters have found evidence that he often acts like this around his client, adding again to the prospect of their relationship.

We asked the bodyguard about said relationship, and, though he was found to be partially drunk, replied quite clearly, "What do you mean by relationship?" which of course translates to: "What do you mean, of course we are in a relationship."

I almost throw Nick's phone across the patio. That stupid Rhina, I think, remembering the reporter. What kind of translation is that? Alex has no idea of the rumors, even when he's sober.

I grunt and turn off the phone, handing it back to Nick. He takes it, tucking it protectively into his jacket as if he is afraid that I will rip it from his pocket and throw it on the ground. It's not too unlikely.

"Are you finished?" Nick asks, gesturing to my plate. We ordered a while ago, but I have barely touched my sandwich. I glance at Nick's dish and notice that his panini has been completely devoured. He must have finished it off while I was reading.

I nod, and Nick calls over our waitress. While she is clearing the table, Nick leaves the check, having already calculated the cost. He grabs my hand and pulls us through the restaurant and out the door.

"Are you alright with walking to the theater?" he asks. "It's only a few blocks away. We can come back for the car afterward."

"Sure," I reply nonchalantly.

Smiling, he begins to walk down the street, me at his side. After a few minutes, we arrive at the theatre. I stare at the neon lights outside that read Regal Cinemas. I almost never go to see a new movie in theatres unless it's a premiere for my mother. I haven't the slightest clue what Ant-Man is about but I'm sure it will be enjoyable.

"Two tickets for Ant-Man in 3D, please," Nick requests.

I watch as he hands twenty dollars to the lady behind the window. She pushes two red tickets under the glass and Nick picks both up, handing one to me. I tuck it into the sash of my dress.

Nick grabs my hand again and pulls me through the wide double doors. He stops at a concession stand in the big hall and buys a large popcorn. I sigh in delight as I sniff the buttery fumes wafting from the bag.

Next, he leads me down yet another dark hall, its walls crowned with numbers indicating the separate shows. I look down and notice the number 8 printed on the ticket. Just as I look back up again, Nick pulls me into the corresponding room.

I decide to take charge and rush down to the middle row. My mother always says that whenever I go to a movie, I have to make sure to sit right in the middle, usually row 17 or 18. I plant myself down in a seat somewhere in the middle, and Nick follows suit.

"So," I ask, turning to him. "When does it start?"

"Eight-thirty," he replies. Then glances at his watch. "Two minutes."

The theatre isn't too full, I notice, which is odd considering the popularity of the movie. We sit in our seats for those two disturbingly silent minutes, staring at the black screen. When the previews finally start, I jump at the sound.

Nick laughs.

A few commercials for other Marvel movies flash by; then the movie itself begins, complete with big, epic theme music. The huge symbol for Marvel appears on the screen.

This impresses me, but for good reason. The only movies my mom star in are boring, full-of-fashion-freaks movies about semi-dramatic beautiful women whose lives are full of begging to sleep with them.

Once the movie starts, I am fascinated with the dramatic-in-a-good-way characters and the good plot.

At some point through the film, I notice Nick's hand edging closer to mine. My heart skips a beat, then resumes.

Come on, Micah, I tell myself. It's okay that you like him.

I exhale loudly as his warm hand touches mine. He leaves it there, and I'm fine with that.