Austin leans in and kisses me again. "This is what I love about you," he whispers in my ear, shooting hot breath onto my neck. I feel electricity pulse through my veins. It's the L-word again! "You always do the right thing in the end."

"You've taught me well," I joke. I'm not sure how to react. Do I say, "This is what I love about you too?" I'm still a little unsure about when to use the L-word and when it's overkill. Like, when we're eating ice cream, is it too much to say, "I love that you love black cherries on your sundae too"?

"Have you figured out what you're going to do about work?" Austin asks.

I shake my head. I know I screwed up with the friend thing, but when it comes to everything else, I'm still at a loss. The more I think about my future, and hear Laney's, Seth's, and Mom's voices in my head, the more freaked out I become. My dizzy spells and constricted breathing attacks are getting more frequent and I'm starting to think that something is seriously wrong with my health, but I'm too scared to tell anyone what is going on. I can't even concentrate on my SATs, which are around the corner.

"Try not to stress about that this morning," Austin says. "You need to look good for the camera, which shouldn't be too hard." He kisses me. "How could they not get a great picture of you? You're gorgeous."

He's making me blush. Again. Austin has a way of doing that.

"We're here," Rodney announces and takes a sip of his protein shake. "We're fifteen minutes early, just like Laney and Nadine wanted." In the rearview mirror, I can see him frown. "Since this is a private road, I can't park on the street. I can't fit in the driveway either because they have so many vans. I might have to go all the way back to the bottom of the hill and that could take a while. Will you be okay going in alone? I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I'll be fine, Rod," I promise.

When I open the car door, Christy Connor is waiting. She's Sure's senior writer, and she's in charge of my story. "Hi, Christy. How are you?" I say, extending my hand.

"Great! Everyone inside is really pumped for today's shoot," she tells me.

Christy reminds me of those overly exuberant tour guides you usually have at a museum. Her voice is high and every word is perfectly enunciated. She's shorter than I pictured her, but very tiny, like a little wind-up doll, and she has short brown hair and really amazing gray eyes that have wandered over to meet Austin's.

"This must be Austin Meyers," she says. "We know all about you. Or, should I say, we wish we knew more. Any chance you'd like to sit down for a secondary interview to add to Kaitlin's story?"