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“Forget it.” Wearing heavy kohl eyeliner and a vintage tee like a suit of armor, Jordan glowers at the elaborate setup and backs toward the exit. “No way. This has gotten way too out of hand.”

Nicole stands toe to toe with the much taller Jordan and jabs a finger into his chest.

“You listen to me, Keller,” she whisper-shouts. “If you actually care about Kennedy, you’ll do this. Eve’s isn’t giving her a scholarship out of the goodness of their hearts. They’re paying for publicity. This is part of the deal. No feature . . . no pictures . . . no scholarship. Got it?”

My insides writhe as Jordan’s expression shifts from annoyance to guilt. After a painfully uncomfortable silence, he finally nods. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

He stretches his fingers toward me, dropping his hand before we touch as if remembering where we are. The regret in his expression guts me. I should call it all off . . . No scholarship is worth the panic in his eyes.

But I don’t.

“I’m digging The Breakfast Club vibe going on here.” The photographer from the park waves a hand toward the deserted library, then nods at Elijah and Grant. “We’ve got the Jock and the Brain . . .” He eyeballs Caleb. “The Criminal.”

Caleb flushes to his hairline. “They dropped the charges.”

“Sure, they did.” The photographer grins and turns toward me. “Our little redhead is the Princess.”

Jordan tenses beside me.

“And you . . .” The guy eyes Jordan’s piercings and black eyeliner. “Oh, you’re definitely the Basket Case.”

Jordan takes a step toward him, muscles coiled like a snake ready to strike. But instead of taking a bite, he glances at me with a sad smile, and all the built-up anger melts away.

“What the hell is this?” A woman in a platinum bob pushes her way past the photographer to stand in front of us.

“That’s Kelly,” Nicole whispers. “She’s one of Eve’s editors.”

Kelly is about my mom’s age, but way edgier, every inch of her clad in some designer or another. She gives Jordan a quick once-over, starting with the dark waves falling over his forehead and lingering on the front of his leather pants. She slowly brings her eyes back to his face, tapping her bloodred lips with a matching fingernail.

“Can we get makeup over here?” she bellows over her shoulder. “We need hair spray—lots of hair spray—and more eyeliner!”

“There’s nothing wrong with how he looks!” I snap.

Jordan is easily the hottest guy here, and considering the other three, that’s saying something.

“You’re cute.” Kelly pats my shoulder and nods toward the photographer. “Run along with Todd. Let me deal with this.”

“Kennedy, it’s fine.” Jordan presses out a stiff smile. He hates this farce as much as I do. Probably more. Yet he’s willingly tolerating the abuse for me.

The urge to kiss him is strong, but before I give in to the impulse, Todd drags me across the library to the makeshift movie set.

“Stay here.” He points to a spot on the floor, then disappears into the men’s room where I suspect Grant, Elijah, and Caleb are holed up.

I give Nicole the evil eye. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Knew what?” She has the balls to flash an innocent smile. There’s no way she’s that clueless.

“Knew about The Breakfast Club crap. Knew they’d force Jordan to milk the whole punk rocker thing. Knew this would suck serious balls.”

She shrugs. “Does it matter if they also pay your tuition?”

“Yes! And you’re supposed to be my friend. It should matter to you, too.”

For the first time since admitting she lost the list, Nicole looks ashamed. “I only wanted—”

“Save it.” I can’t look at her anymore. Instead, I focus on the elaborate set. “You got caught up in the spectacle, I get it, but I’m done.”

Her head snaps up, drawing my gaze back to hers. “You can’t quit now! You’re almost finished.”