"I wonder who took the photo?" Carla says. "Whoever did it probably got a lot of money for it. Was there paparazzi at the wedding?"
I shake my head, trying to think but the pounding in my brain is back with a vengeance. "No. I don't think so. Maybe? I mean, I didn't recognize everyone. Will has a hell of a lot of contacts and many are in the film business, so it could have been anyone."
"You should find out. And then set the record straight. Email Perez and tell him you're the mystery girl."
"Why would I do that?"
"I dunno. Because Perez Hilton, like, the most popular celeb gossip blogger in the world, is implying you're a couple and you're not a couple. Unless you want to keep up the charade … "
"God no," I tell her quickly, trying to imagine what my sisters would say. God, I would never hear the end of it. We don't keep in touch much but they would surely reach out over this shit. And then there's everyone at work. And Jackie and Will.
Oh my god, Jackie and Will.
I have to tell them. They have to hear it from me before anyone else. They have to know the truth, especially after they specifically warned Emmett to stay away from me.
If only he listened. I knew I was showing too much cleavage last night. I practically lured him between my legs.
I put my head in my hands, tossing the phone on the bed. "Aaaaargh," I moan. "I don't know how to deal with this shit. Usually my sex life stays pretty damn private."
"Hey, at least there isn't a picture of you actually having sex," she points out. She picks up her phone and starts going through it again for a minute while my brain stutters, trying to figure out what to do. "Just Jared is reporting it. And so is TMZ. They're following Perez's lead and saying you're, well … anyway, a new girl and it could be something serious."
"Oh my god!" I exclaim. "How are they getting that info? We hooked up. End of story!"
"They're spinning stuff, this is what they do. Everything that gets reported in the tabloids and shit are half-truths."
"Well what is this half-truth?"
"It's not like it's not what it looks like. You did sleep with him right and did all this cuddly shit after. That's the half-truth. They're just stretching and speculating. You know most people don't believe everything they read."
I wish that was true but it's only getting worse these days.
"Anyway, what's the worst that can happen?" Carla asks.
"You just said I needed to set the record straight," I remind her, exasperated.
"Just trying to figure this out. If you look at it from another angle, it's actually pretty cool. Or at least funny."
"How is it either of those things?"
"Because you're on all the gossip sites because you had sex with Hollywood's current bad boy and now everyone in the world thinks you're his girlfriend. It's pretty fucking funny."
But I'm not even amused in the slightest. Carla decides to make me breakfast to wake me up and help me cope and while she does that, I frantically try to get a hold of Jackie or Will. But of course they're on their honeymoon to Mexico and are probably in the air.
"Maybe no one will notice," Carla says as she watches me shovel bacon into my mouth. "And it will all blow over. I mean, do you even remember the names of the girls that Emmett's been with before? No. There's always someone else. I'm sure in a few days there will be some other girl he'll be caught sucking face with and it will all be over. Plus, they don't have your name. So there's that."
I think about that for a moment. It doesn't necessarily sting. I knew that it was a one-night stand but again it makes me feel utterly disposable. And I'm starting to think that there's a good chance they could get my name. Obviously whoever was at the party and took the photos could find that out pretty quick.
Shit. What if it's someone I actually know. Like, personally.
As in, someone I work with.
Casey. Fucking hell, it's probably Casey. Casey who seemed way too interested in us on the dance floor. If he found that part interesting, I'm sure he'd do the same if he caught us kissing.
Then again, I have to be sure before I make any accusations. As much as I don't really like Casey, especially as I've been brushing off his sleazy advances as of late, and as much as I feel like firing blame at the first person I can think of, I know I have to hold off until I know for sure.
"So you don't have Emmett's number or anything?" Carla asks me, reaching over to pour me a cup of coffee. Usually she's not this doting, it's like I'm sick or something.
It's not far off. My hangover is still lingering and I'm sick to my stomach over the fact that there are secret photos of me circulating the entire world.