Not If I Date You First

Chapter 7

"He yelled at you?" Dad sits up straighter, looking like he's contemplating hunting Liam down.

"Calm down before you start Hulking out." I take a bite of my lasagna. The "cheese" crumbles in my mouth. I force myself to swallow. "Getting yelled at by celebrities is part of the job. You can't confront every star in New York who doesn't smile at me when I take their photo."

"And you're sure this is what you want to do? Because I'm sure NYU—" My dad starts, and I swivel my eyes to the ceiling. Here we go again. We've had this conversation a thousand times. He's an economics professor at the university, so it's physically painful for him that I don't want to go to college.

I did apply early decision back in November—under extreme duress, I might add—and got in. I deferred for a year, but I have no intention of going. I've known I wanted to be a paparazzo ever since that first movie premiere Grams took me to. I'm not about to change my mind now when it's all happening for me.

"I'm not going to NYU. I want to be a photographer. And apparently, I'm pretty good at it. The pictures I took totally blew up today."

"Yeah, so did the pictures of you," Aiden chimes in, not helping.

Dad opens his mouth like he wants to say more, but Mom interrupts, shooting him a look.

"Sweetheart, you know we want you to chase your dreams. We just want to make sure this is the right dream for you." The look in her eyes is so earnest and concerned, I can't even be annoyed with her.

"It is," I say.

"Well, then, I want to see these photos." She squeezes my hand from across the table, I can tell by the tightness of her smile that she isn't totally behind me yet, but at least she's trying.

"I'll go grab my camera." I push my chair back from the table. The skin of my bare feet clings to the cool hardwood floors as I pad toward the hallway. The intercom buzzes, and I detour to the living room.

"Hello?"

"Hey, A! It's me!" Elodie's bubbly voice chirps through the crackly speaker.

I sag in relief. I'm in desperate need of some quality best-friend time. I buzz her in.

"You are so famous!" Elodie squeals as she walks through the door.

I grimace and glance over my shoulder. "Uh, ix-nay on the amous-fay."

"What?" She scrunches her face, looking confused. "Ooh, got it. Why?"

"My dad's not happy about my picture being all over the internet."

"Uh-oh." Her eyes dart toward the dining room.

"Yeah. Uh-oh." We start toward the hall. "We'll be in my room," I call over my shoulder.

"Okay, honey, but I want to see your photos later. Hi, Elodie." Mom waves from her chair.

"Hey, Moms. Hey, Pops. Hey, Aiden."

"Hey." Aiden pushes a piece of lasagna around his plate with a fork. Dad nods at her, still frowning. We walk down the hallway, passing a procession of framed school portraits of Aiden and me on either side. It's like watching a time-lapse video in reverse.

I lean against my door, sagging with relief as it snaps shut behind us. I breathe in the vanilla bean candle burning on my nightstand. It's my favorite scent and reminds me of the lotion Grams used to use. After the craziness of the day, the combination of the smell and the sea-foam-colored walls is like a balm to my frazzled nerves.

"I bring sustenance. Cream cheese muffins." Elodie holds up a paper to-go bag, waving it in front of my face. I snatch it from her hands.

"You are the best best friend ever."