He’s wearing aviators and leaning against the car texting someone, and I’m instantly jealous.

Not sure if it’s of the phone or the way he smiles while texting.

“Ready,” I announce.

He looks up, his bored yet annoyed expression back, and part of my soul feels crushed.

My reality isn’t the same as it once was over the last day, and it feels like loss all over again.

The loss of him.

The loss of understanding.

The loss of peace.

My smile feels all kinds of wrong as I get into the expensive car and put on my seatbelt. He blasts the music on the way to school, and without even realizing how lost in my lots I am, we’re in the parking lot, and he’s killing the engine.

I feel like crying. I feel so stupidly weak that I hate myself a bit as I exhale and reach for my seatbelt.

Just as I’m about to hit the button to unbuckle it, Ambrose’s large hand grips mine right on the buckle. He’s still looking straight ahead, jaw clenched, watching all the students walk by, point at his car, and gape. The hero worship is real.

I don’t know what to say, so I say what’s on my heart, regardless if it hurts. “I’m here now.”

“Steps for life,” he finally says.

“Sometimes stars work, even if it’s not the way we expect.” I take a deep breath. “I can be perfect too.”

He snorts out a laugh. I’m instantly hurt until he whispers, “You already are.”

He jerks his hand away and gets out of the car, slamming the door like he’s pissed.

It takes my heart a few minutes to slow down as I unbuckle my seatbelt and follow behind him at a distance. Just another day with no friends, being terrified of bullying since I’m living with Ambrose. He might think it’s perfect for me, but I get stares from girls, mean comments. And then, in front of his face, all they say is that I’m the absolute best. Only to get to him.

I can take it.

I’ve had worse.

I keep my head held high and breathe a sigh of relief as Quinn jogs over. “He seems to be in a mood today.”

My smile’s dopey, then I turn serious. “Yeah, he’s got a lot on his mind post drunken night and sober breakfast.”

Quinn just nods. “I bet he does.”

I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ohhhh, nothing.” He elbows me lightly. We’re almost at the front doors when Ambrose freezes.

He always struts through the doors like he owns the place. People are kind of gathered around, which isn’t totally weird, but they’re watching his expression, their eyes wide, and suddenly they’re looking at us.

“That’s weird.” Quinn grabs my elbow, and we start walking a bit faster and that’s when I see this gorgeous, shiny blonde-haired girl that can’t be that much older than me. She’s in a cute white dress, jean jacket, and what looks like expensive sandals; her makeup is perfect, and she’s smiling at Ambrose like she knows every inch of him.