"The model search is going great," Jem announced as we walked towards the school's exit.

It was the end of the day and I was completely drained. All I wanted was to go home and crash for a few hours. However, the Twins kindly reminded me that wasn't going to happen. There was no time for napping when I had to put together twelve outfits from scratch.

"The sign-up sheet was filled in like an hour. I'm going to have to say no to so many people." She frowned and Kimber laughed, taking us both by surprise.

"Sorry, it's hilarious that you're acting like you have an issue turning people down."

Jem stopped in her tracks, causing a slight traffic jam in the crowded hall as Kimber and I stopped as well. They must still be fuming from their fight yesterday.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jem questioned, planting her hands on her hips. The way she towered over Kimber made her look intimidating, Kimber didn't back down, though.

"You've been shooting down any ideas I've had for the show and for cheer all day," Kimber accused, matching her sister's stance.

"Those weren't ideas, they were demands. You're just pissed off because I'm not letting you boss me around anymore," Jem spat.

A small crowd had began to form and I didn't know if I should step in or let them duke it out. Sibling rivalries weren't my area of expertise.

"Sue me for trying to help!"

"You mean take over, like you take over everything," Jem said, rolling her eyes. "I'm head cheerleader. A fact you continuously forget. And since the fashion show wouldn't be a thing without Loren, maybe she should be in charge of that."

Their gaze shifted to me and my mind blanked. They were waiting for me to say something. My stress levels were high enough with just the sewing to worry about. I didn't want to be in charge of the entire project. Admitting that would mean siding with Kimber and I didn't want to pick a side.

My view of the Twins was blocked by someone in a red and gold varsity jacket. My eyes traveled up, meeting with a pair of pale green ones.

"I really need to talk to you," Miles said. Gently placing his hand around my wrist, he lead me out of the building. "That was close," he chuckled as we stopped over by the parking lot.

I didn't know what is was that he really needed to talk about and I was about to tell him to go talk to Vivian until I realized what he had said.

"What was close?" I questioned, raising a brow.

"You never want to get in the middle of one of their fights," he told me, a serious look on his face.

"They fight a lot?"

"Not this bad. The last time was in second grade," he informed me, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. "There were casualties." My brow creased as I waited for an explanation. "Charlie, the class pet. They were in charge of it for the week and learned the hard way that you shouldn't play tug of war with a bird."

The image of two seven-year-olds accidently murdering a bird was now burned into my brain.

"You were very close to becoming that bird."

I grimaced at the thought. "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem," he reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. That's when I realized he was wearing my stolen beanie. I could ask for it back, but I doubt he'd give it up. It looked better on him anyway. "Are you coming to the game on Friday?"

Something bloomed in my chest. He was asking me to his game and he actually looked nervous about it. I thought about the options Nikki laid out for me. Did I go for it or keep holding him at arms length?

Before I could pick a path, someone called out to me.

"Loren! Yoohoo!"

I looked up to find Victoria Hernandez, crossing the parking lot over to us, a phone pressed to her ear like always.

"Hi, Miles," she greeted him with a hug after ending her phone call.

"Hey, you here to see Vivian?" he asked once they separated.

"No, I'm here for her," she said, pointing to me. "You're a very difficult girl to get a hold of. My assistant searched for hours and couldn't find you anywhere online. You like your privacy, I respect that. What are you doing Thursday night?"

My brain stumbled over itself trying to follow along with her quick words. Victoria had a way of asking a question in a way that suggested the only correct answer was doing what every she wanted.

"I'm having a dinner party and would love it if you could swing by. We can finally have that meeting you keep dodging. Your mother is invited too, of course. Oh, and you too, Miles." Her phone rang and she answers, telling the person to hang on as she looked back up at us. "Dress code is black tie. Can't wait to see you there." After waving goodbye, she crossed the lot back to her car.

"I think I missed the part where she asked me if I actually wanted to attend her party," I said, trying to recover from the whirlwind that was Victoria Hernandez.

"Yeah, I don't think she's giving you a choice anymore," he said, an amused look on his face. "You have to be at that party or you'll end up on her bad side."

It's not that I didn't want to go to the party or miss out on the opportunity to intern at Beauteen headquarters. I did. I really did. If only Victoria hadn't spawned Vivian.

"I'm willing to take that risk," I told him. "It can't be worse than being on Vivian's bad side."

He eyed me curiously. "So, this is about Vivian?"

"If it is?" I shrugged.

"I doubt she'll even be there."

I scoffed at that. "If I'm there and you're there then she'll be there."

"Yeah, probably." He nodded in agreement. "She's really not that bad. She's just going through something right now and I'm the only person she feels comfortable talking to."

"And she hates me because?"

He rocked back on his heels, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. "She doesn't hate you."

"Right..."

He opened his mouth to speak, but the shrill sound of a whistle stopped him. It was Mr. Wilson. The football coach and physics teacher.

"Hanson! Unless your girlfriend knows the secret to beating Bellview on Friday I suggest you get your butt to practice!"

The temperature in my face rose at the word "girlfriend" and I tried conceal my smile by laughing at the embarrassment on Miles' face.

"We'll talk later?" He asked, slowly walking backwards to the school.

I nodded and he flashed a smile that sent my heart racing before turning around and darting off towards the football field. My hormones weren't going to make this no boys rule easy.

+ + +

I was sitting at the kitchen table, my laptop in front of me as I re-watched season one of Supernatural. A pile of red and gold fabric sat on the chair next to me. We decided to go all out with school spirit by incorporating the school colors into every outfit. But I couldn't start on anything until I had Betsy, who had gone missing.

The front door opened and I paused Netflix, looking up to find Mom entering the kitchen. She held two grocery bag, setting them down on the island.

"Put this stuff up," she ordered, taking her coat off and draping it over the chair before taking a seat in it. "I have to rest my shoulder."

"Oh, now you care about resting your shoulder," I teased, getting up and walking over to the island to unpack the groceries. "Have you seen Betsy?"

"Yes. I'm holding her hostage."

The eggs almost slip out of my grip. "What?" She had to be kidding. The serious look she had told me she wasn't.

"You can get her back after you get the rest  your stuff out of the garage," she told me. "I need the space to practice with the girls."

I snorted, placing the eggs in the fridge. "Does that make you a garage band?"

She shook her head at me. "It's been over a month. It should've been done."

"Okay, I'll do it."

"When? I need the space. We have to get ready for the Fall Festival and our performances at The Oak. "

The Oak? The name sounded familiar. It took me a minute to figure out why. Then it dawned on me.

The Oak was a restaurant managed by Jerrell's dad. Jerrell took me there a few times and I felt so grown up eating somewhere that didn't have a drive-thru.

"You have until Sunday," she said, her tone final.

"But I have the fashion show to get ready for."

"Good luck doing that without a sewing machine."

Letting out a defeated sigh, I agreed to her terms and she told me where I could find Betsy.

After putting away the rest of the groceries I went up to my room, examining the wall I wanted to paint. Before I could furnish my room, I needed to get this part out of the way.

As I debated whether to start painting that night my phone dinged with a text.

Miles:
You make a decision about the party?

Loren:
I might be busy painting my room

Instead of texting back Miles called. My eyes rolled as I answered.

"Why do you call when we're in the middle of a text conversation?" I questioned, dropping down on my mattress.

"Don't act like my voice doesn't put a smile on your face," he laughed and I smiled. Only because he put the idea in my head. "I can hear your heart thumping in your chest."

"Sure that's  not the sound of your brain rattling around in your head?"

"Ouch," he inhaled sharply. "That hurt, Mermaid. And to think I was about to offer to help you paint."

Considering the size of the wall and my short time frame, I could've used the help. Laying back on the bed, I looked up at the ceiling. "Actually, I could use another set of hands."

"I can be that extra set of hands, but only if you apologize."

"I'm—"

"No, not like this," he interjected. Of course he wasn't going to make this easy. "I need a formal apology. In writing."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Fine," I sighed.

"Awesome, now that we got that out of the way," his voice got deeper, "What are you wearing?"

And with that I ended the call.