I’m surprised to realize that his words bother me.

“I like Amanda.” I give him a half smile. “I’m not exactly the biggest Star Beck fan right now. She’s pretty much screwed up my life.”

Nick rakes a hand through his hair. “Maybe it’s none of my business. But I thought you said you weren’t dating anyone.”

I blink at him.

“What?” I ask. “I’m not.”

“But everyone knows you’re dating Jesse Bishop,” he continues uncomfortably. “I mean, it’s not like I follow all that gossip or anything. But I’d have to be living under a rock not to know about you and him.”

Nick’s trying to sound tough. But I think he looks sort of hurt.

“Oh,” I say. I feel terrible. “Is that why you left so quickly last night?”

Nick shrugs.

“I just don’t know why you lied to me,” he says. “I mean, I understand that you’re trying to blend in or whatever. But you could have told me you have a boyfriend. Especially considering that your boyfriend is, like, one of the most famous people in the country.”

“Nick,” I say slowly. I want to make sure he really, really hears me. “I’m not dating Jesse. I swear. I never was. It’s all a stupid publicity thing. I’ve known him forever. He’s like my brother.”

Nick still looks suspicious.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Amanda,” he says. “I’m not going to tell anyone who you are or anything. You can trust me.”

“I know I can,” I say. “That’s why I told you. But Nick, I’m telling you the truth about Jesse.”

“But I’ve seen pictures of you kissing him,” he protests.

“Nick, I’m an actress,” I say. “We were acting. It was all for the publicity. It was stupid. But that’s all it was. I swear.”

He studies my face for a moment, and I don’t let my gaze drop from his eyes. I want him to know I’m not lying. Not about this.

“Okay,” he says finally. He shoots me an uncomfortable half smile. “Well, is there anything else I should know about you, while we’re at it?”

“Yeah,” I say. He looks concerned for a split second. “Just that I like you,” I say quickly. “A lot. And I’m glad you know the truth about me.”

“Yeah,” Nick says after a minute. “Me too.”

The next day, I meet my father for lunch at the Columbia, a nice restaurant on the Pier downtown that overlooks the water and the Tampa skyline from floor-to-ceiling windows on the fourth floor.

“The house salad’s really good here,” says my father as he lays the white linen napkin across his lap. “I thought you might like this place.”