“So that’s the only reason you came out here?” I ask. “For Jessica?”

“That’s not—”

“To make sure I’m not ruining her career? Was that what you were going to say?”

His lips press into a thin line. He can’t meet my gaze.

Oh, I’m right.

I scoff. Of course I’m right. Why would he ever want to just be nice to me? “Don’t worry Ethan, I won’t screw up your precious Jessica Stone’s career.”

“You think that’s all I care about?” he asks, clenching his fists.

“Well, the writing’s on the wall, isn’t it?”

“You don’t know the first thing about Jessica—or me—and here you are coming in to our lives thinking you know everything. Thinking that you can just mess with Jess’s life—play in it like it’s this funhouse ride. It’s not, Imogen. Jess’s life is real.”

I purse my lips. “If it’s so important, then why let me mess in it to begin with?”

“Because Jess needs to—” But then he stops himself, and looks away. “She just needed this.”

“So I’m important enough to pretend to be Jessica, but I’m not important enough to know the real reason why,” I infer, and he doesn’t correct me.

He just folds his arms over his chest, looking more uncomfortable by the moment. Finally, he says, “You should get out before security comes by.”

“You mean before I can screw up Jess’s career?” I mock.

“It’s not like you can screw up your own,” he snaps cattily, but then realizes what he said. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant—”

Oh no, he’s said enough already. I push myself up the side and out of the pool. I grab the keycard and the wig I’d stashed behind the potted plant. “No, I get it. Don’t worry, Ethan,” I snap as I leave, and he just stands there helplessly. “I won’t screw up.”

I clutch the wig to my stomach as I make my way through the lobby, where con-goers mingle with friends, some with their costumes slowly melting off them, others in pajamas. No one glances at me, no one looks twice, even though I’m sopping wet and my dress leaves a liquid trail behind me. The people who do notice me probably just see a mess of a girl, waterlogged, with runny makeup and pink hair stuck up in a spiky crown around her head.

Don’t cry, I think, unable to get Ethan’s words out of my head. Why did they make me so angry?

I think I’m angrier at myself more than anything. Because I actually thought—

I let myself think—

Because he’s so freaking insufferable, I actually—