Page 62 of Playing for Keepsv

Cash (11:43 p.m.):Poptart

Cash (11:43 p.m.):I gotta talk to her

Cash (11:43 p.m.):It’s important

Cash (11:44 p.m.):??you’re trending on twitter

Cash (11:44 p.m.):??????

Cash (11:44 p.m.):I wrote poppy and it came out poopy and my phone put the emoji

Cash (11:44 p.m.):Srry pooopy??

Cash (11:44 p.m.):People think ur dating rosaline

Cash (11:45 p.m.):On tiwtter

Cash (11:45 p.m.):Because u 2 were making eyes on the carpet before u sacked that chick

Cash (11:45 p.m.):like kapow pow pow??

Cash (11:45 p.m.):That was so badass pooptart ur so badass

Cash (11:45 p.m.):I love u

Cash (11:45 p.m.):I’m sorry I ran my mouth in teh limo I’m a dumbass

Cash (11:45 p.m.):I just love u so much and want u to be hppy

Cash (11:45 p.m.):Hapy as I am

Cash (11:46 p.m.):Have you told r4osaline u like like her yet

Cash (11:46 p.m.):Ok m gonna go lyric wants a take a bubblebth wit me bye

Poppy’s heart rose into her throat and her hands shook, a tremor she prayed Rosaline wouldn’t pick up on. Goddamn it, Cash. She forced a laugh. “He’s wasted.”

Rosaline hummed and took back her phone. “Clearly.” Her lips twitched. “Poopy.”

She buried her face in her hands with a groan.

Rosaline chuckled. “It certainly seems like he and Lyric are having a good time. I’m glad.”

She dropped her hands and sighed. “He doesn’t let loose very often.”

“Neither does Lyric.” Rosaline swiped across the screen. “He’s right, by the way. You are trending.”

“Lovely.” Poppy rubbed her eyes. “Just tell me—how bad is it?”

“Well,” Rosaline said, eyes locked on her phone, index finger intermittently flicking the screen to scroll, “I suppose that depends on your definition of the word.”

Poppy slumped over, resting her cheek against the counter, the granite cool against her overheated skin. “So it’s badder than bad. Got it.”

“Don’t be melodramatic,” Rosaline chided, nudging Poppy’s knee with hers. “You’re a meme, but that was to be expected. Most people seem to agree with Cash and think you’re a badass.” She paused, tongue sweeping out and wetting her bottom lip. “Someone made a fancam edit of us.”

Poppy lifted her head. “Awhat?”

“Fancam edit. A montage of clips from the red carpet set to—”