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The blond boy who took Gulliver’s seat when he left moves back to his own chair, and Gulliver sits back down beside me, handing me my backpack. “I wouldn’t worry about calling your mom. My dad’s going to speak to her.”
“Is he going to explain that this was all just a stupid joke?” I ask hopefully.
“No, he’s going to invite them for dinner tonight so we can all celebrate our engagement together,” he says with a grin.
“What?” I cry, pushing out of my seat and standing on wobbly legs. “This is ridiculous. How the hell am I going to explain all of this nonsense?”
Before I can take a step away, Gulliver curls his arm around my waist and yanks me into his lap again, his hand cupping my face so he can press his lips to my ear. “Calm down, sweet Izzy. I’ll settle everything with your awful family eventually. But for now, I need you to play along for a little longer.”
Kip barks out a laugh, pulling our attention. “Dude,” he chides playfully like this is just the funniest thing in the world. “A family dinner might be taking this a bit far.” But his tone is playful. All of them think this is hilarious, but they have no idea of the implications it’ll have for me. They don’t care that I’ll be the collateral damage left in the wake of their games.
“Taking what too far?” Gulliver asks. “All I’m doing is inviting my closest friends and my beautiful fiancée’s family to come together to celebrate our engagement,” he says with mock innocence.
Turning his attention back to me, he presses a trail of kisses down the lobe of my ear to my neck, stunning me into silence with his gentle touch. A part of me knows I shouldn’t be letting him do this. I shouldn’t be going along with this farce or letting him touch me and kiss me like this. But until he scooped me out of the car this morning and forced people to actually see me for the first time in years, I’d forgotten how good it felt to just be me and not some weird, half-hidden reflection of my sister.
Since he shouted my name—my name—on the steps and started this dangerous game we’re playing, I hadn’t admitted, even to myself, how tired I was of being invisible. I know by tonight all of this will be over and I’ll sink back into my sister’s shadow again, but for now, I really want my own identity. I want to be Izabella Rhodes. I want to be seen, to be recognized, to be worthy.
So, I don’t fight him when he reaches around me and cuts off a piece of my lunch, then holds up the fork for me to eat from. I don’t fight it when he touches me like we’re really in love, or when he walks me to my next class and kisses me in the doorway where everyone can see.
For the next few hours, I enjoy hearing my name on people’s lips, and I bask in the stares, looks, and whispers. It doesn’t matter that no one actually speaks to me, or that they’re probably being mean, or gossiping about mine and Gulliver’s stupid fake engagement. All that matters is that when they look at me, they see me and not my sister.
When the final bell rings, I’m almost a little sad that the school day is over. I take my time packing away my belongings like normal, because even though everyone at school knows about me now, I still doubt Penelope will want me to ride home with her.
Jolting backward, I stumble when Gulliver suddenly appears in front of me. Snapping his hand out, he stops me from landing on my butt, then scoops all of my things off my desk and drops them into my backpack, throwing it over his shoulder along with his own bag.
“Come on, sweet Izzy, let’s go,” he says, entwining his fingers with mine.
I let him pull me out of the classroom, enjoying the way all eyes seem to turn to us as Gulliver walks by my side, a wide smile etched across his beautiful face.
“My car won’t be here for another thirty minutes,” I admit quietly.
“You’re riding with me,” he says simply, arching an eyebrow and daring me to argue.
“I need to let Mark know.”
“Who the fuck is Mark?” Gulliver asks, whirling around to look at me.
“My driver,” I reply in confusion at his weird reaction.
“So, text him, or better yet, tell him in person,” Gulliver says as he starts to jog through the hallway, pulling me along behind him.
A surprised giggle falls from my lips as we dash through the school, Gulliver weaving us in and out of people until we burst into the bright sunlight. My smile and any hint of laughter dries up when I spot my sister chatting with a group of people at the curb.
“Hey Penelope!” Gulliver shouts so loud I doubt there’s anyone who didn’t hear.
Her head snaps up, and she spins around to look at us, her lips pinching into an angry snarl when she spots me.
“Let your driver know that Izzy’s riding with me, will you?” he calls, pulling me into his side and holding me tightly against him.
“Why can’t Izzy tell him for herself?” she asks, practically spitting the nickname Gulliver has called me a few times.
Trying to pull myself from his grip, I step forward when our town car rolls to a stop barely two feet from where Penelope is standing, but Gulliver tightens his hold on me, stopping me from moving.
“Don’t be a bitch, Penelope. We’ll see you later. We’ve got an engagement to celebrate.” Waving at her with a smirk, he turns us in the opposite direction, leading me to a shiny Range Rover parked at the front of the lot.
As we approach the car, it beeps, and Gulliver releases me to step forward and open the passenger door, waiting for me to climb in before closing it behind me. While he circles the car, I take a minute to look at the inside, appreciating the novelty of being in the front seat rather than the back seat of our family’s town cars.
Opening the driver’s door, Gulliver climbs in, smiling at me as he settles into the seat and presses a button on the dashboard. The car’s engine starts, and a moment later, we pull out of the school and onto the street.
