they were seeing each other? For some reason, the possibility of Travis taking that initiative gave Georgie butterflies.
Great, big, whopping ones. Which was stupid.
Although, maybe he’d told Stephen it was fake.
Those butterfly wings stopped flapping. Maybe that’s why Stephen wasn’t calling. He was just shaking his head in private over Georgie’s latest antics.
There was no time to think about it now. Tonight was the Just Us League meeting and there was no time like the present to face the firing squad, also known as her sister. She’d promised to be more forthcoming with Bethany, but would it be so bad to keep this secret to herself for now? To let everyone really believe she and Travis were an item?
Resolving to make the decision on the road, Georgie sped through a shower, threw on one of her new pairs of leggings and a loose V-neck. She shoved her feet into a pair of flats on the way out the door and made it to Bethany’s in record time. Before she walked through the front door, she took a deep breath and prepared for a barrage of questions. She got a sniff from her sister instead and an uh-oh look from Rosie.
“Uh, hey.”
That set off Bethany. Her sister pinched the bridge of her nose and paced the length of her kitchen. “Uh, hey? A photo of you kissing Travis Ford in the parking lot of the Waterfront goes fucking viral and you just stop answering your phone?”
In her nap haze and rush to get out of the house, she’d completely neglected to research how everyone had found out about her and Travis. “Which photo is this?”
“Take your pick! There’s like . . .” Bethany snatched an iPad off the marble countertop and swiped across the screen with a furious finger. “Eleven. Twelve—”
Oh no. This is bigger than I thought it would be. Georgie’s stomach pitched as she crossed the room. “Let me see.” One glance at the screen and she was rolling her eyes. “This isn’t viral. This is the Port Times Record.”
“It’s viral for Port Jefferson,” Bethany shot back. “And the picture where you’re telling off that man in the bar made SportsCenter, so it’s not contained to the local news. It was on Plays of the Week, Georgie. Mom said Dad almost choked on a chicken bone.”
Georgie hopped up onto a kitchen stool, marveling over the face staring back at her from the glass screen. Was that her looking so fiercely passionate? Yes, it was. And she couldn’t find it in her to regret defending Travis. Not for a second. Her belly couldn’t help but flip at the kissing picture, even though she knew the sentiment behind it was contrived. Their affection was all for the camera. Her heart started pounding nonetheless when she landed on the final picture. Travis staring after her in the parking lot with an expression she’d never seen on his gorgeous face before. Maybe it was the camera angle. Travis would never be wistful for her. Not in this lifetime. “Um,” she rasped. “So Dad choked on a chicken bone?”
Bethany slapped her hands on the counter. “What is going on?”
“We went on a date.” Looking for an ally, Georgie turned to Rosie, who feigned fascination with an untouched shot glass of tequila. “We decided that was allowed.”
“It is. But him, Georgie? Travis?”
“Yes. Travis.” Indignation rose up in her swift and furious. It wasn’t just the couple in the bar. It was everyone, wasn’t it? The whole world thought of him as some brainless sex symbol. So much so that he had to date the town’s dopey birthday party clown so people would . . . take him seriously. They both wanted the exact same thing, didn’t they? That did it. She wouldn’t tell a single soul their relationship wasn’t real. She’d be out and proud about her fake boyfriend. “You haven’t spent time with him since he came back. He’s done being thought of as a player.”
“Yeah, but is he done being one?” Bethany gave a long exhale. Georgie could tell she was dying to put in another two cents, but she managed to refrain. “I’m guessing you haven’t spoken to Mom. She has dibs on this kind of information and ESPN scooped her. You’re going to get Guilt Face at Sunday dinner next weekend.”
Georgie started. Their family was close, but with everyone so busy, their dinners were more of the spontaneous variety. Georgie would pop in for lunch or Stephen would bring bagels by