It’s just lying, isn’t it? That’s all I ever seem to do these days. Lie, and lie, and lie. And never because I actually want to. “I just … Jesus. I just wanted it to go away.”

The obvious answer is written all over their faces. It’s not gonna go away now. It never will. Last night happened, and rolling over in bed and pulling the blanket over my head won’t undo that.

Everyone’s watching me, whatever I do. Everyone’s listening.

“Does everybody hate me?” I ask in a small voice. I assume there’s already been some sort of reaction online. Comments, posts, articles, even. The thought of what they must be saying right now makes me want to climb into the core of the earth and hide there until it’s over.

Rose is soft. “No, no, nothing like that. People are curious, maybe. But everyone doesn’t hate you.”

But what does that mean, exactly? Just because society isn’t out for my blood today, that doesn’t mean shit when it comes to my future. A lot of people are probably just giving me the benefit of the doubt before calling for my public crucifixion.

And what will the palace think? It’s not like I kissed Rose on camera or anything, but the online rumor mill is still going to have a freaking field day with this.

“Whatever you want to do, I’m with you,” Rose says. “If anyone says a word to you, even a word, they have to face me. It’s you and me, okay?”

I look from her, to Molly on the floor, and then to the window.

“What should I do?” I ask.

Nobody replies.

There’s a knock on the door. We all jump, then Molly gets up and opens the door a crack. Eleanor peeks around it, then barges in with wide eyes. “Danni,” she says to me. “What is going on?”

“Eleanor, don’t make this worse,” Molly says, closing the door.

“Are you gay?” Eleanor asks. “Or were you just messing around with Harriet?”

“Okay, we need to have a discussion about tact,” Molly interrupts. “It’s clearly out of your grasp today.”

“I’m bi, okay?” I snap. The words are metallic on my tongue. I’m so freaking nauseous. I’m not sure if it’s the situation or the hangover. Probably both.

Eleanor puffs out her cheeks. “You know, I wouldn’t have called it,” she says after a long silence. “You don’t seem into girls.”

Rose takes my hand calmly, threading our fingers together. “Is that the case, Eleanor? What does that seem like, pray tell? Me?”

Eleanor laughs. “No.” Then something must click because she does a double take at Rose like a cartoon character or something. It’d be funny if this weren’t the worst thing I’ve ever lived through. “No? No!”