Page 4 of Billionaires Don’t Date Cheerleaders (Texting the Boyband #2)

four

“SLOANE!” Grace yelled up the stairs. “Hurry up!”

I desperately hopped into my school skirt while trying to brush my teeth at the same time. I’d woken up insanely late this morning, which, of course, happened to be the same day that Grace wanted to get to school early. I paused in brushing my teeth for just long enough to pull my shirt over my head—almost suffocating myself in the process—then ran back to the bathroom to drop my toothbrush off and hurriedly run my fingers through my long hair to make it semi-presentable.

Who was I kidding? It still looked awful. I was going to have to do full hair in the car. Good thing I wasn’t the one driving today.

Grace came stomping upstairs just as I ran back into the hall to get to my room. She stood on the landing with her hands on her hips and a foot tapping, looking remarkably like a fifteen-year-old version of my mother.

“We’re going to be late,” she said.

“No, we’re not,” I said. I ducked under my desk to grab my backpack from where I’d discarded it on the ground on Friday, then started randomly shoving every single paper on my desk into it because I couldn’t remember what was important and what wasn’t. In my defense, it was only the second week of school. Why did we have any homework at all? Shouldn’t we have some time to get back into the routine of classes every day?

Grace came all the way upstairs and stood in my doorway. She was so perfectly in line with the Take Five poster on the outside of her room door that if I squinted, it actually looked like she was part of it. “Yes, we are . We’re going to be late, and I won’t get to meet Take Five, and it will be all. Your. Fault.”

I pushed myself onto my knees and blew my hair out of my face.

“Listen, freak,” I said because it was my duty as her older sister to keep her humble and in line. “First of all, we’re not going to be late. Even if we left ten minutes from now, we still wouldn’t be late. So quit badgering me. And second, it’s not like the band is hosting a meet-up before school. They’ll probably be in the office where you won’t even be able to see them, so you need to chill .”

“But if they are in the hallways, then you’ll be taking away my one chance?—”

“They will be at school every day?—”

“You know how much I want to meet them?—”

“Who knows, maybe Neil will even be in your class?—”

We both just kept raising our voices louder and louder until our words were indistinguishable because we were flat-out yelling.

“Girls!” My mom’s voice cut through the noise. Grace and I both immediately shut up, though it didn’t stop us from making faces at each other. My mom joined Grace in the doorway a moment later. “What is going on here?”

“Sloane is taking forever to get ready, and we’re going to be late.”

I rolled my eyes. “As I was just explaining to Grace, we have tons of time before we need to leave, and we’re fine.”

“I want to?—”

“Meet Take Five, yes, yes, I know.” I grabbed the last of my things off the floor and stood up. Since we were standing here anyway, I took the chance to grab my brush from my nightstand and started doing my hair. “Look, if you wanted to get to school an hour early, maybe you should have arranged it with one of your friends.”

“If I’d known you were going to be this slow, I would have,” Grace said, crossing her arms.

“I never even agreed to go in early, you know,” I said. I grabbed my clips and ducked down so I could see the makeup mirror propped up on my desk as I twisted some hair back. It was the best look I’d ever done, but it was good enough. At least it hid my bedhead.

“I asked you last night.”

“You demanded last night,” I said, “and then walked off before I could see that I didn’t want to go in at the crack of dawn.”

“It is not?—”

“Okay, okay,” Mom said, trying to stop us before this could turn into yet another fight. “Grace, I know this isn’t as early as you wanted, but you didn’t properly communicate what time you wanted to leave, so Sloane had no way of being ready.”

“She knew what time I wanted!”

“Are you sure?” Mom asked. “Did you wait for her to agree to it? To say she would be ready?”

Grace deflated a little. “I guess not, but she still could’ve?—”

“She didn’t need to,” Mom said. She looked at me. “Sloane, are you ready to go? If we leave now, you’ll still get there early.”

“I need coffee,” I said.

“Get it at school,” Grace snapped. I shot her a dirty look. While the school cafeteria did sell coffee in the mornings, it was more expensive and tasted worse than the coffee we made at home, and I wasn’t spending my money on that.

“I have coffee made downstairs,” Mom said. “I’ll pour some into a travel mug while you get your shoes on.”

“Thanks,” I said. Once I was sure she was downstairs, I grabbed my makeup bag from my desk and stuffed it into my backpack as well. Once I turned sixteen, Mom started letting me wear small amounts of makeup on normal days—mostly just mascara and lipgloss. Of course, I always had to do a full face when I was cheerleading, but outside of that, she felt that it was “inappropriate” to wear more than that. But of course, I wasn’t going to not wear it just because she told me not to, so I always did my makeup when I got to school (all the more reason Grace was being ridiculous about us going to school extra early—we always got there early anyway so I could do that). Normally, I just kept my makeup bag in my locker to make that easier (and make it less likely for my mom to question why I had so much when I had to use it so infrequently), but I hadn’t gotten the chance to bring it to school yet that year.

I grabbed my bag. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Finally,” Grace groaned.

“Grace, I swear, if you complain one more time, I’ll make sure Mom stops for breakfast at a drive-thru.”

She didn’t speak for the whole drive—although I could practically feel her vibrating with excitement, even from the front seat.

“Have a good day, girls,” Mom said as she pulled over in the drop-off lane. Grace barely even waited for the car to stop before she was out and running to the doors of the school. I followed behind, a little bit slower. But as much as I’d grumbled all morning, I was really only complaining about having to get up early, not about Grace’s excitement to meet the band.

Because if I was being totally honest? I was a little excited, too.

Only a little, mind you. I hadn’t gone into total fangirl mode or anything.

I was just a teensy, little bit excited to potentially get to meet Jude in person. And who could blame me? He’d seemed so fun on Twitter. I was excited to see what he would be like in person. I’d seen occasional videos of him (aka all the vlogs and band documentaries that Grace had practically forced me to watch), and he did seem like fun in those, but I was also very aware that online personalities could be easily manufactured, especially when it came to celebrities. And honestly, he could probably nail that persona just as easily in person, considering his job, so I wouldn’t even be able to trust what I saw of him at school. It would take a lot of digging to see the real him.

I wasn’t even sure why I cared about that thought. What did it matter if I didn’t know the real him? It wasn’t like he and I were going to become friends or anything. Sure, he’d flirted a little online, but again, that was just part of the persona his management demanded of him… right?

When the bell rang for first period, I practically had to drag Megan there. Clearly, she’d been dreading this moment all weekend. And, apparently, she was right to, because as soon as we sat down, our French teacher, Madame Dubois, told us she had an announcement.

“It is my pleasure to tell you all,” Madame Dubois said flatly, “that two of the members of the band will be in our class.” She glanced over the attendance sheet to check who they were. “Hudson Shaw and Jude Turner.”

Holy. Crap.

What were the chances of that?

As the whole class burst into screams of excitement, I grabbed Megan’s arm tightly. “Hudson Shaw!”

“What?” Megan yelled back.

“Hudson Shaw,” I said again, carefully enunciating the words. She must have forgotten who he was, though, because she didn’t react at all. “That’s the boy you met last week! And the one at the mall!”

Megan grimaced at my words, which I guess I should have expected, considering how she felt about the band, but I had been hoping that she would be a little more excited. Oh, well—she didn’t need to be that excited because I could be excited enough for the both of us. Plus, I had my own boy to worry about—would I get the chance to talk to Jude?

Principal Roman poked her head through the class doorway and knocked lightly. “Is now an okay time?”

“Yes, come on in,” Madame Dubois said. Principal Roman stepped inside, closely followed by two boys I would recognize anywhere—Hudson and Jude. I instinctively tightened my grip on Megan’s arm as I smiled at her.

“Everyone, these are two of our new students. Hudson and Jude,” Principal Roman said, as if they needed to be introduced. The whole class—except me and Megan—burst into applause. “These two are going to need guides to show them around the school. Do we have any volunteers?”

As expected, everyone’s hands were up in the air within a second. Megan slid down her chair a little, keeping her eyes trained down. Ironically, it made her more noticeable in the sea of excited faces when I was sure that wasn’t what she was aiming for.

“Okay,” Principal Roman said, sounding strangely surprised by this outcome. “Hudson, would you like to pick first?”

As Hudson stepped forward with a mischievous grin and began looking at each person, I wrapped my arm around Megan and held her up. I wasn’t going to let her ruin this for herself. She tried to cover her face with her hands, but I quickly grabbed both her wrists with my free hand and held them down so she couldn’t hide. She was really committed, though, as she turned her head toward the wall so he couldn’t see her easily. I was out of hands to use, so I couldn’t stop her from doing it, but I just had to hope Hudson would notice her sitting there anyway.

Luckily, I was right.

Unlike everyone else he looked at when Hudson’s gaze landed on Megan, it didn’t move away again. For a long few seconds, we all sat in silence as he stared at her. Finally, she must have realized something was happening because she slowly turned her face toward him. Hudson smiled widely as he saw her face, and he quickly bounced over to our table. I could barely hold my own smile back as I realized my plan was working.

“Would you do me the honor of being my guide?” I might have been imagining it, but I swore his British accent was stronger than it had been on the weekend.

“I…” Megan started.

Once again, I wasn’t risking Megan ruining this for herself. Before she could find some nice way of telling him to find someone, I enthusiastically said, “Of course she will!” I pulled my arms away from Megan and gathered up my stuff. Because I’d practically been holding her up, she collapsed from the sudden change, but it was fine because Hudson caught her. She couldn’t be mad at me for that.

Luckily, we were sitting in front of an empty desk, so once I grabbed all my stuff, I dropped to the floor and crawled under the desk so I could sit there instead. The rough carpet of the classroom burned against my bare knees, but it was a worthwhile sacrifice for my best friend to fall in love. When I popped up on the other side and sat down, Megan was staring at me with wide eyes, looking a little panicked. I held my thumbs up and smiled at her, hoping I looked encouraging.

“I guess I will,” Megan said to Hudson. She took the seat I’d just abandoned so Hudson could sit down in her spot.

“It’s nice to see you again, Starbucks girl,” he said. Megan pointedly didn’t respond, but I grinned. This was going to be a good show—I just knew it.

“Well, okay then,” Principal Roman said. She looked really confused now, but honestly, I would be more concerned if a high school principal wasn’t perpetually confused by students’ actions. “Jude, why don’t you pick next?”

To my surprise—and delight—Jude’s eyes were on me, and he walked right over without so much as glancing around the room. I quickly flipped my hair, lightly rested my cheek on my fist, and smiled brightly at him, more or less beckoning him over to me.

“Hi,” he said. He slid into the empty chair beside me. “I’m Jude.”

As if there was any chance I wouldn’t already know that.

“I’m Sloane,” I said. My voice was unintentionally higher-pitched than usual. I guess that was what happened when I spoke to celebrities I thought were cute. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

In person, that is.

Jude glanced at Hudson and Megan, then back at me. He tilted his head. “I know you. Right?”

“Depends on your definition of know.”

“We’ve met.”

“Not in person.”

He smiled. “But we’ve met not-in-person.”

“Yes.”

“Like in a dream?”

“Exactly!” I clapped my hands together, then remembered we were in class and stopped. Luckily, Madame Dubois didn’t seem to notice as she was engrossed in a conversation with Principal Roman. “I knew you would catch on.”

“Is this the moment I’m supposed to make some cheesy joke about how you’re the girl of my dreams?”

“I’d… rather you didn’t.”

Jude chuckled. “Not a fan of pick-up lines?”

“I just think you’re capable of being more creative than that.”

Jude leaned forward. “You think?” He whispered.

“I know,” I whispered back.

“Is this a ploy to convince me to write a song about you to prove how creative I am?”

“You know, it wasn’t,” I said, “but now that you mention it, I would like that. Please get on it.”

Jude laughed. “As you wish.”

“I’m waiting.”

“Oh, you mean you want it right now?”

I sighed. “A true musician would be able to do it at the drop of a hat.”

“Well, I?—”

“Okay, class!” Madame Dubois called, clapping her hands together a few times to get our attention. Jude shrugged and tilted his head toward her as if to say, ‘ hey, what can you do? ’ I shook my head but turned my attention toward our teacher. Well, I faced forward, at least. The second she turned her back on us, I whipped out my phone and opened Twitter.

Sloane @its_sloane

@judeturner isn’t a real musician, pass it on

Neeeeeeeil @neilhadley

[retweet] @judeturner isn’t a real musician, pass it on

Call Me Jude @judeturner

You don’t even have context!

Neeeeeeeil @neilhadley

And I don’t need it

Sloane @its_sloane

Oh I forgot to update my tally!

Sloane @its_sloane

# of times I’ve met Hudson Shaw: 3

# of times I’ve met Jude Turner: 1

# of times I’ve met the rest of T5: 0

Call Me Jude @judeturner

I’m in it to win it

Sloane @its_sloane

Choosing me as a guide was a phenomenal first step

Jess @digressjess

Sloane… I say this with all the love in the world: I hate you

Sloane @its_sloane

It’s okay, I hate me too

Call Me Jude @judeturner

Hey! We are nice to ourselves in this house

Sloane @its_sloane

We’re in a school man 3

Call Me Jude @judeturner

Hey! We are nice to ourselves in this school

Jess @digressjess

You clearly haven’t been here long

Neeeeeeeil @neilhadley

Quick somebody teach me how to do math

Sloane @its_sloane

Just… as a concept?

Call Me Jude @judeturner

e = mc2

Call Me Jude @judeturner

Wait is that science or math

Sloane @its_sloane

It is a formula

Call Me Jude @judeturner

For what subject??

Sloane @its_sloane

DO I LOOK LIKE EINSTEIN TO YOU

Call Me Jude @judeturner

Do you want me to be honest

Sloane @its_sloane

Reminder to whomever it may concern… if you are sitting within arm’s reach and tweeting about me, be warned that I am not above punching you :)

Call Me Jude @judeturner

…honest about how beautiful you look!

Call Me Jude @judeturner

Why does that smiley face look so threatening

Sloane @its_sloane

:)

Call Me Jude @judeturner

Quick someone teach me French, I’m worried the teacher is going to call on me

Neeeeeeeil @neilhadley

W O W, not you stealing my tweet

Call Me Jude @judeturner

I personalized it to my life!!

Neeeeeeeil @neilhadley

Robbery. Burglary. Thievery.

Call Me Jude @judeturner

Imitation is the greatest form of flattery

Neeeeeeeil @neilhadley

Odd way to describe PLAGIARISM

Call Me Jude @judeturner

Didn’t one of those famous guys say good artists copy, great artists steal

Sloane @its_sloane

Did you just call Picasso “one of those famous guys”

Call Me Jude @judeturner

And what about it?? Was he not famous?? Was he not a guy??

“Mademoiselle Evans!” The call of my name harshly reminded me that I was actually in class and needed to be a little more subtle about what I was doing. I dropped my phone onto the desk and looked up, trying to act as if I’d been listening that whole time.

“Oui, Madame?” I asked. Thank goodness I remembered to speak French. While Madame Dubois frequently had to speak to us in English because we were all hopeless at French, she insisted that we at least used French for basic phrases that we knew.

“Please stay off your phone,” she said pointedly. I bit my lip but nodded and picked up my pencil instead. Once she turned her attention back to the board, Jude snickered. I glared at him.

“Why was I called out while you’re still tweeting?” I asked.

“I think you’re forgetting a key thing here,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m a celebrity.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh and that means you don’t get in trouble at all?”

“Nope,” he said. He winked. “And if you stick with me, I can keep you out of trouble too.”

“Well, that hasn’t been working well for me so far, has it?”

“I guess we’ll just have to keep trying, won’t we?”

I grinned a little as I looked at the board, trying to catch myself up on whatever it was we were doing in class right then. I might as well not have bothered, though, because my phone buzzed again a second later, and given the choice between French class or Twitter, I would always choose the latter, even if it was risky to try when Madame Dubois was already suspicious. The notification was for a response to one of my tweets from Friday.

Sloane @its_sloane

Why does a boyband need to go to high school anyway

Take Five Boyband @takefiveofficial

It’s the best way to meet girls ;)