Hunter smiled weakly. "That's what I'd been thinking. They just changed it for no reason," he said, brushing an invisible piece of lint from his cashmere V-neck. "It's like they fixed something that wasn't even broken."

Amelie paused, not knowing what to say. Hunter was handsome and already a star, but the reality was, Jake was better. Like Tommy Archer, Jake was a guy who didn't know how great he was. With Jake at its core, the whole movie now had true sweetness and that je ne sais quoi teen angst factor. She had a feeling that Jake was just being Jake, not Mr. Superstar Method actor. But even if the producers had just gotten lucky, Jake had given Cla.s.s Angel the true authenticity they'd been hoping for.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Hunter," Amelie said, thrown by how grown-up she sounded. "I mean, you've got a lot coming up, right?" Just last week, Hunter had landed a part as Iron Man's illegitimate son in the next installment of the franchise. And she'd just read about his casting in an indie role as a gas station clerk being stalked by a famous actress. She'd practically been ready to stalk him at the time. But now... things felt different.

"Yeah, I guess," he said, dolefully catching the eye of a trio of Hollywood High School girls who were staring at him. "But I feel like I don't know what I'm doing. Is the new guy a lot better than me? Jacob What's-His-Name?"

Amelie stirred her coffee surrept.i.tiously. She was somewhat relieved that Hunter hadn't connected the name with Jake. They had met, after all, at Lewis's party-when Amelie had let Hunter believe that it was Jake who'd left her brokenhearted.

"He's... got a different style than you," she said carefully. "He's new at this. It's kind of hard to compare." Of course, it was easy to compare them. She'd been doing it from the moment she'd sat down, mentally tallying the pros and cons of Hunter and Jake as Tommy Archer.

"But different, good? What's his method? Is he a real high school jock? How often does he work out?"

Amelie glanced at the time on her Sidekick, a bit put off. Was Hunter always this insecure? Had he always fished for compliments this way? "I don't know, Hunter," she said. "Jake's just a regular guy." She shrugged, maybe a little impatiently, half wanting to shake Hunter and ask, You dragged me out here for this? Where was the confident, semi-c.o.c.ky object of her l.u.s.t? The guy who could make her heart thump like parade music just by saying her name?

"Oh," Hunter said, perking up a bit at the words regular guy. He flashed his megawatt grin, his coffee-colored eyes finally meeting Amelie's full-on. "That's kind of gimmicky. I was kinda glad not to have to shoot at BHH. It's hard enough just going out at night without being recognized. I bet it's a nightmare."

"It's not that bad, actually," she said, her mind cutting away to a vision of herself toting books down the hallway with her group of girlfriends. "It's nice to be around normal people. And most people there have parents or family in the business, so they're used to being around filming."

Hunter shook his head affectionately. "You're too nice," he said, c.o.c.king his head as his gaze scrolled over her face and her bare shoulder. "Come on, you can tell me. It sucks, doesn't it?" he asked, reaching across the table to fold her hand beneath his.

Hunter's hand was warm and dry, and hers was cold, as always. But when he touched her, she felt oddly detached. Maybe being away from him for a while had given her calm. Or maybe it was that since she'd started dreaming of going to high school, she'd sort of put her Hunter fantasies on the back burner. Whatever it was, it felt both satisfying and a little disappointing to not feel her heart flip at Hunter's touch.

"I'm serious," she said insistently. "At first I was nervous. But I've been thinking about trying to enroll."

Hunter squinted at her across the table before breaking into a wide smile. He laughed, letting go of her hand and running his fingers through his dark, shiny hair. "You're good. I forgot how funny you are, Amelie," he said. "We should hang out more often."

Amelie bit the inside of her lip, clenching her fist around the white satin bow draped at her waist. Hunter didn't get it. Or, he didn't get her. A piece of her heart, the spot she'd reserved for him for years, cracked at the realization that her crush was based on nothing but a fantasy. All this time, she'd thought that if she could just have Hunter to herself for a while, instead of sharing him with costars and directors, they'd really understand each other. She'd built him up so much that she'd imagined him being like her, a guy with an extraordinary life who just wanted a taste of the ordinary. "Yeah, we should," Amelie said dismissively, wishing he'd leave so she could stew in the anger of years of disillusionment.

Hunter swigged the last sip from his coffee cup. "I'm so glad you met up with me. I feel a hundred times better," he said, his eyes lingering on her exposed shoulder. "I'm about to hit a pre-party at Social, some Us Weekly/Ray-Ban thing. Want to come?"

Amelie shook her head politely. "I have to get back to the set," she lied, without an iota of regret. "But thanks."

"Okay, maybe next time," Hunter said, standing up and leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. He threw down some money for the check and was off.

Amelie brushed the side of her face with her fingertips, realizing that the last time Hunter had kissed her cheek like that, she'd nearly fainted with joy. Last time, too, he'd invited her to meet him at Lewis Buford's party, and she'd felt like a rocket-guided missile, determined to get to the event no matter the consequences. This time, she didn't yearn to go with Hunter.

Amelie felt all her nerves come to life as her mind drew the face of the guy she wanted.

Jake?

THE BIG PAYBACK.

Unreal. Fictional. Fake. Phony. Make-believe. Imagined. Pretend.

Unreal.

Jake cycled through every synonym he knew for this can't be happening and kept landing on unreal.

Because that was what this was. Kady Parker, she of the glossy black hair, pixielike face, and mesmerizing blue eyes, was sitting so close to him, he could smell the delicate top notes of her raspberry-scented perfume.

Kady bit lightly on the tip of her finger, the crumbs of their shared pretzel croissant dusted across the place mat between them. The bakery's crowd was changing. Instead of bored Hollywood wives picking at their salads, the place had filled with businessmen on late lunches. Some of them made no effort to hide the fact that they were checking Kady out. Jake himself felt pervy; he couldn't tear his gaze away from her lips. But it was almost like she was pointing at them.

"So, um, what should we do while we wait?" Jake said, extracting his script from his new Kenneth Cole messenger bag. "Should we go over our scene?"

"I wouldn't mind another croissant," Kady said, her voice a breathless whisper. She reached out a hand and pulled him up from his seat. The momentum of the movement forced their bodies to knock together, and Jake felt every one of his muscles clench as Kady's body collided with his. She stepped back, but only by an inch, and giggled. "We can share. Outside."

Jake didn't need anyone to tell him Kady was beautiful. But he couldn't help but puff his chest, imagining BHH guys like Rod and Lewis Buford if they could see him with Kady right now. Her eyes twinkled up at him as they waited in front of the gla.s.s bakery case. She paid for her order, clasped Jake's hand, and dragged him out of the restaurant.

They were sitting at a table at the center of the Brentwood Country Mart's courtyard, just outside the City Bakery. The crew was positioning mics for their outdoor shot as customers filed around them, used to seeing movie shoots as part of their daily routine. A group of cute UCLA girls in workout gear filed past, swinging bags from the Mart's James Perse store, gossiping. Their chatter trailed off as they saw Kady Parker sitting with Jake. They paused, their eyes flickering over him as if he'd become more interesting with Kady's seal of approval.

"Have another bite," Kady said, offering up yet another piece of pastry. Jake really couldn't eat any more, but it was impossible to refuse Kady's pleading, fluttering eyelashes. Or that fact that she was feeding him, letting her fingers linger a little longer by his lips each time she did so.

It was starting to sink in. Kady liked him. Not just liked him, but liked him liked him. The notion felt foreign to his body. He was used to unrequited crushes. Just an hour ago, when Amelie had departed to meet Hunter, he'd even felt the twinge of a reopened wound. He'd been successfully putting her out of his head for the whole shoot, even if it meant ignoring her a little. But her mentioning Hunter had brought Jake back to the humiliation of Lewis Buford's party. Amelie was more sweet and innocent than some of her Hollywood peers, and yet he'd still been taken advantage of. Right now, though, Kady was coming on to him. And Jake couldn't come up with a reason for her to play him. She was beautiful, cool, and in demand. And she certainly didn't need him to add excitement to her life.

Kady sipped her Pellegrino with a straw, a smirk turning up the corners of her lips. "Look over there," she said, faintly gesturing with her chin. Jake turned.

"Don't look right at them," she said. "Stay casual...."

Jake pretended to be stretching and craned his neck back. Several guys with cameras were attempting to hide behind the neatly shorn hedges that ran along the courtyard's edge. Paparazzi? Whoa. He thanked whatever deity had made this possible. He was about to have his first run-in with the paparazzi as he flirted with a gorgeous girl. Justin Klatch would be proud.

"Let's give them a proper photo op," Kady said, pushing the croissant aside as she leaned forward. Her eyes looked a darker shade of blue in the sun. Then she closed them, and the cherry lips that he'd been staring at for what felt like centuries were on his.

He kissed her back, twirling a strand of her dark hair in what he hoped was a Justin Klatchsanctioned way. Her lips were cool from the frosty water, but her breath was warm. He was kissing a girl who made movies. Kissing a girl who had no fewer than six hundred thousand hits on Google. Kissing a girl who hadn't been dared, and who wasn't one of his mom's friends' daughters willing to kiss anyone at her bat mitzvah just to get it out of the way.

His eyes closed as he added a little extra pressure to the kiss. At the height of Jake's Amelie obsession, Miles had torn a tip from Details about the proper amount of kissing force: You should always give her a fraction more pressure than she's giving you. Thankfully, Jake was good at fractions. And he seemed to be doing something right, as Kady's fingers languidly feathered against the back of his neck. Jake could hear cameras whirring, and sense eyes on him as a hushed collective whisper flitted around the courtyard.

Yeah, world, you're looking at Jake Porter-Goldsmith kissing Kady Parker, he thought to himself.

Talk about getting the star treatment.

WAX ON, WAX OFF.

"This looks like c.r.a.p on me," Myla said. "I don't know if I should wear orange. Ever. I think it would work on you, though." She tossed a Tang-colored Alexander w.a.n.g tank dress over the dressing room wall as though it was nothing more than toilet paper she was handing Jojo in a public bathroom.

They were at Barneys New York on Wilshire, and Jojo had ama.s.sed a pile of things to buy, all of them Myla-approved. Shopping with her sister was even better than shopping with her mom, or with Willa. Myla made funny comments about the other shoppers, like Willa did, but her taste was impeccable, so it was like being with a friend and an authority figure all in one. Jojo pulled the orange tank dress over her head. Flowy and looking like tropical fruit, it seemed like something Tucker would like, Jojo realized. Ever since Ash had suggested Tucker for her, Jojo had made a point to notice him at school. With his surfer tan, and a lean Michael Phelpsish body visible through his tight T-shirts, there was nothing to complain about. He had a good laugh, too, one that gave her a little tingle. A sense of humor was important to her in a potential boyfriend.

"I'm going to go pay," Myla said, her voice wafting over the wall. "Meet you out there."

"Okay," Jojo chirped happily. Being tormented for her BarfBarf incident was the best thing that had ever happened to her, because it had prompted Myla to spend time with her. Even if her stepsister did seem a little harsh at times, Jojo felt closer than she'd thought possible to Myla.

Her phone trilled out the Ting Tings song from last week's Gossip Girl, and she dug beneath her to-buy pile to find it. Willa's sa.s.sy tongue-out face popped up on the screen. "Hey," Jojo answered. "What's up?" Willa was her best friend from Sacramento, and Jojo had more than ten years of homemade friendship bracelets, photographs, and pa.s.sed notes to prove it.

"Hey, Miss Thang," Willa said, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the high-pitched voices on her little brother Damian's cartoon. Willa was the de facto babysitter for him any time her mom had to work late. "You didn't answer my e-mail about the invitational."

Jojo had totally forgotten that Willa had e-mailed her about JFK's annual soccer invitational. "Oh G.o.d! I'm so sorry, it's been crazy around here." Though she'd spent her first few weeks in L.A. frequently trading IMs and texts with Willa, all Jojo's time with Myla had put her way behind on her correspondence. She flopped down on the changing bench.

"But you're coming, right?" Willa sounded hopeful, like she half-expected Jojo to say no. "Justin even asked about you."

Jojo was surprised-not so much that Justin had mentioned her, but that his name caused no tickle to run through her body. Instead, she thought, What Would Justin Klatch Do? and a vision of Jake's smiling face popped into her head.

"Well, who cares about him?" Jojo said, realizing that she meant it, even if it was flattering that her new, tabloid-worthy adoption story had gotten her former dream guy's attention. Maybe absence did make the heart grow fonder after all. "I'd be coming to see you."

Willa chuckled. "Yeah, right, like you won't be salivating when he takes his shirt off after the game." Maybe he'll be salivating when he sees me in this dress, Jojo thought, twirling one of the narrow straps around her index finger.

"Maybe a little." Jojo wondered if her crush on Justin would return as soon as she saw him again. Even Myla would probably be impressed by Justin's toned physique. Jake's body was equally sculpted, though, and he was an NFW boy, so maybe not.

"So you're coming?"

"Yeah, definitely. It feels like so long since I've been there. Like Sacramento will be future Sacramento, all silvery with flying cars when I get there," Jojo said, not really meaning it. Beverly Hills was a shiny, glittery wonderland compared to her old hometown, and she knew that Sacramento would probably seem duller than ever now that she'd had a taste of the good life.

"Nah, still the same old dump," Willa said cheerfully. "But it'll be so much fun. Coach said you can sit on the bench by the team, which is perfect, 'cause we are so dumping the water cooler on his head when we win. And if you come down early, we'll teach you the dance we made up for the boys' game. We're using that song you picked, 'Kick It' by Peaches. You'll have to slap my a.s.s, though."

Jojo wrinkled her nose involuntarily. A few months ago, Jojo had been the ringleader, planning all the goofy stuff they'd do during the invitational. She'd even run a fake summit about it at Sadie's Pizza. Now she was almost nostalgic, thinking about how simple her life had been. But as she held a s.e.xy Robert Cavalli chiffon halter dress up to her creamy shoulders, she was also grateful for the new, more complicated version.

"Of course I want to slap your a.s.s. Who could resist it in those shorty soccer shorts?"

Willa laughed, sounding relieved. "You better watch it, or I'll be dumping water over your head, not Coach's. Bet Justin will like it," she singsonged temptingly.

Jojo heard the distinctive cadence of Myla's walk. She promised to e-mail Willa and hung up, just as Myla's brand-new Louboutin platform pumps became visible under the dressing room door.

"Stop lollygagging," Myla said. "Oh my G.o.d, lollygag, how grandma of me. But really, stop. We have waxing appointments at BeeHive."

She opened the door to her dressing room. "Waxing? Why?"

Myla rolled her eyes. "I told you earlier, beach party this Sat.u.r.day. You can't go looking like Sasquatch."

Jojo winced, not just at the idea of having her hairs yanked out. "But I'm supposed to go to Sacramento this weekend. There's a soccer invitational."

Myla shook her head. "Sacramento will-sadly-still be there next weekend. Tucker is throwing the party. It's not up for discussion."

Jojo saw her waxen face in the mirror beyond Myla's shoulder. Her sister could be a little like a drill sergeant sometimes. Not to mention sn.o.bby. Sacramento wasn't that bad. But Jojo reminded herself that Myla was just on edge about the whole Ash thing. After he'd left the other night, Myla had told her everything, about the kiss and how Ash had practically run off. She'd tried to sound breezy, saying Ash was being stupid, and that he'd come around. But Jojo could tell that Myla had been crying.

"But can't Tucker wait?" Jojo protested. "I promised I'd be there. Shouldn't I go to show them how freshly fabulous I am?"

Myla folded her arms. "You'll be even more fabulous if you don't go and they all wonder about you. I won't take no for an answer." Myla's voice was firm but playful, and Jojo felt a little flattered that her sister wanted her to come so badly.

"Besides, I need you there," Myla cajoled. It was true: Talia, Billie, and Fortune were currently on her s.h.i.t list. Without Jojo, she'd be going to the party totally alone. Right now, Jojo was her de facto right-hand man. Make that right-hand, newly fabulous Myla-in-training. And if that made her other friends jealous, well, sweet.

It was the final push Jojo needed to make a decision. Between Ash and her inattentive girlfriends, Myla actually needed Jojo for a change. What kind of sister would she be to ditch her in her time of need? "Okay, gimme a sec to call and cancel. I'll meet you in shoes."

Jojo dialed Willa's number. She knew her friend would be disappointed, but hopefully she'd understand.

Willa answered on the first ring. "Nice of you to hang up on me," she said, more teasing than angry.

Jojo sighed. "I just remembered something about this weekend. I have to go with my parents and my family to a fund-raiser. I can't come to Sacramento," she said, her stomach bubbling with the lie. She could have told Willa the truth, about Myla having boyfriend and friend problems, but after b.i.t.c.hing to Willa about Myla for her first week here, she knew Willa didn't have the highest opinion of her stepsister. Besides, saying she needed to support Myla at a big BHH beach party didn't sound like such a dire situation.

"Oh no! You can't get out of it?" Willa asked, sounding downcast.

"I really can't, Will," Jojo replied, wishing Willa didn't have to make her feel guilty about it. "Don't worry, there'll be other invitationals." As she said it, Jojo realized that Sacramento could wait for her. But a party in Malibu, that Myla actually wanted her to attend? That wouldn't happen every day. Who knew-next week, she could be back on the s.h.i.t list with the rest of Myla's clique.

"Yeah, next year," Willa mumbled. Jojo bristled with irritation. She'd been away from Sacramento for less than a month. Were they really that desperate without her?

"Look, I have to go," Jojo said, not wanting to keep Myla waiting. "We'll make plans for some other time."

Jojo hung up as Willa mumbled her pa.s.sive-aggressive agreement. She had a wax appointment to get to, and she knew that after that, Willa's needy guilt-tripping would no longer be the most painful part of her day.

ICING ON THE KAKE.

Amelie sat outside BHH, on a bench near the front doors, waiting for her mom to pick her up after a long day of shooting. It was almost ten o'clock, and the grounds were dark and silent. A cool October wind blew beneath Amelie's hair, the crisp air sending a shiver down her spine. A lone light shone down overhead, casting a soft glow on the pavement.

Amelie was tired. Shooting had been long, and mostly painful. They were well into their second week of filming. The end of it, really. It was Thursday, and things were getting hurried so they could wrap next Friday. But that wasn't causing the strain. Amelie had dealt with tight shoots, and the rippling tension that came with them, many times before. Fairy Princess was always hectic, whether they were waiting on product-placement notes from a last-minute sponsor or altering one of the unicorn's horns because standards and practices deemed the first one "too phallic." But on Fairy Princess, she never had to watch two of her costars sneak kisses between takes.

Almost overnight, Jake and Kady had gone from flirty costars to "Kake," a tabloid-sanctioned new Hollywood couple. Their on-set PDA would have been annoying for any costar. But since her crush on Jake had dawned on Amelie as if the sun itself had smacked her across the face, every smile he shot in Kady's direction was agony.

"Hey, Amelie." Jake's voice shook Amelie out of her daze, and she turned to see him approaching. He was alone, thankfully.

"Hi, Jake." She smiled at Jake's now-familiar face. How had she not noticed how cute he was before, back when he was just her tutor? The green flecks in his hazel eyes were apparent even in the low light, and his smile moved easily over his face. Several errant curls poked cutely out from under his Cla.s.s Angel baseball cap. "I thought you'd have left by now."

Jake shrugged, sitting down next to her. "Waiting on Kady," he said, like they'd been going out forever.

"Oh, that's nice," Amelie lied. "Are you giving her a ride home?" She remembered riding in Jake's Corolla on the way to Lewis's party. If only she hadn't been so obsessed with Hunter at the time, maybe she would be the one heading home with Jake tonight. Not that she'd have kept him waiting, like some chauffeur.

"I think she called us a car," Jake said, smirking as if he couldn't believe his luck. He peered down at his cell phone, clutched in his hand. "But my a.s.sistant, I mean friend, Miles, is supposed to be tracking down an Escalade for me. I can't wait."

"That's cool," Amelie said, even though she found it impossible to picture Jake plowing down the freeway in one of those obnoxious trucks. His Corolla wasn't exactly cool, but there had to be a car more suited to Jake. Something attractive but una.s.suming. Like him.

"We're going to some place called the Kress. Have you ever been?" Jake asked earnestly. He was probably the only person on earth who hadn't seen her first and only nightclub experience detailed on TMZ.

Amelie shook her head. "No. That's a club, right?" She felt like the kid still stuck on a tricycle as her friends zipped away on two-wheelers.

Jake chuckled nervously, zipping his hoodie against the quickening wind. "You'd know better than me," he said. "Up till now, the coolest place I've been is the masquerade at Comic Con. But don't tell Kady that."

Amelie nodded, liking knowing something Kady didn't. Then again, maybe she shouldn't be happy he was telling her secrets he thought were too dorky to share with his girlfriend. He doesn't care about impressing me, Amelie thought sadly.

Jake blushed. "I can't believe I just told you that," he said, shaking his head. "This is almost as bad as when you thought I was stalking you." The color in his face grew deeper as he recollected the tutoring session where he'd blurted out all of Amelie's favorite things.

"I won't tell," she said, giving Jake the best smile she could manage.

Jake studied her for a second, his hazel eyes locking on her aquamarine ones. "Is everything okay?" He patted her arm a little awkwardly. The gesture sent her heart springing from her chest, and she fought the urge to nestle her head on Jake's shoulder.

If she'd been some other version of herself, she might tell him the truth: That she hated that he'd hooked up with Kady. That she thought Kady was all wrong for him, and that she was all right. That she regretted not seeing him, from the start, for who he really was-the funny, smart, kind guy she never knew she needed-because she was so caught up in her childlike Hunter fantasies.

She knew she'd never say those things, though. Because she never told anyone what she was really feeling. With Jake, though, she felt comfortable enough to reveal the other thing that was on her mind.

"It's all this," she said, spreading her arms wide as if she could hold up BHH. "Shooting here has shown me... I don't know. What I'm missing out on, I guess." During what was supposed to have been her lunch break today, Talia, Billie, and Fortune had invited her to go off-campus for mani-pedis. It had been an especially tempting offer, since she'd wanted to get away from Kake all day, and, purse on shoulder, she'd been ready to go. But then Gary had needed another take of the scene where Cla.s.s Angel sat in on a high school English cla.s.s, just to see how real people lived. Yet another terrible example of art imitating life.

Jake pulled off his baseball cap, ma.s.saging his flattened curls back into place. He looked across the lawn, watching headlights dance over the shadows as cars pa.s.sed on Moreno.