But I was no baby hippo.
"What are you talking about?" I asked through gritted teeth, even though I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly what he was talking about.
"Elena sent me. From AccommoDating—you remember her, right?" His face split into a huge grin. "Surprise! I'm your friendly neighborhood escort, sent here from the Valley just to make your day. Or your week. And I'll tell you, Lo, I'm worth every penny. I've aged like a fine wine."
I didn't doubt him. Even though I desperately wanted to. I hadn't seen Kyle in almost eight years, but he'd only gotten better-looking, which was a predictably cruel twist of fate. His wavy brown hair and wide-set green eyes were the same, as was his handsome, arrogant face. Those muscles were new though. And annoyingly large.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I said.
"Nah," Kyle said, looking pleased as punch. "I'm not."
He walked over to me slowly, his eyes taking in every square inch of my body, and he shook his head as if he couldn't believe what he saw. I knew the feeling. Now that I was twenty-two, I'd finally grown into my looks. The last time I'd seen Kyle, I was a pasty, brace-faced fourteen-year-old, saved from being ugly only by the stubborn plainness of my face and the light-blond color of my hair.
I still felt like that girl. When I looked in the mirror now, I was always pleasantly surprised that she wasn't staring back at me. But I still knew she was in there.
He leaned over toward me, and I felt his breath in my ear. I shivered.
"This is what you call karma," he said, "coming back to bite you in your holier-than-thou ass. Which is looking pretty good, by the way. I don't care what all those mansplainers say about it."
I glared at him, a hot blush creeping up my neck. So he knew. He'd seen my video, and he knew I was hiring an escort to try to save myself. Bitterness rose within me, overtaking every other feeling.
"I'm not holier-than-thou, Kyle Richards. And if I am, that's at least better than being a stoned, trust-funded loser," I said, putting my hands on my hips and straightening.
He beamed at me. "There she is. That's the Lo I remember—Little Miss Perfect. Except that now you're smokin' hot. Those braces really paid off."
My blush deepened—either in anger, or because of his ass-backward compliments, or both—but I kept my game face on. "How can you remember anything? You were too busy sneaking around with your friends, stealing your dad's cars and doing bong hits."
He snorted and stepped back. "Oh, and you were watching all of it—taking notes, I'm sure." Suddenly the sexy twenty-something was gone, replaced by the accusatory and exasperated teenager I remembered. "You were always ratting me out."
"I did it for your own good," I said, my chin jutting out.
Actually, I'd done it because I wanted to get him into trouble. He and his friends were always taunting me. His favorite name for me during my mother's four-year marriage to his father was either "bookworm" or "jerknerd." Thank the Lord he'd never heard my thoughts, in which I referred to him as "scrotumhead" and "loserface" on a semi-regular basis.
He'd always been handsome though. That'd just made everything worse.
Back when we were kids, Kyle had been really reckless. So yes, I'd told on him—in part because I didn't want to see him and his stupid friends get hurt. Well, I didn't care so much about his stupid friends. But I didn't want Kyle getting hurt, no matter how many times he slammed my books shut without their bookmarks in them, just to bug me. No matter how much he tortured me… when he actually was bored enough to notice me.
"Well, bookworm, you've made quite a name for yourself," Kyle said. "I guess you couldn't keep that mouth of yours in check though. I saw you on XYZ last night. You totally puked on that officer's shoes, you know."
"I know. I was there," I snapped, even though I didn't actually remember that part too well.
I glared at Kyle. As bad of a predicament as I'd been in this morning, it now seemed like a cakewalk compared to what I'd gotten myself into this afternoon. I'd hired an escort. To act as my boyfriend. So I could rehabilitate my image.
And now I had an event to go to—in Santa Monica, in two hours—and Tori had already leaked to the paparazzi that I'd be there. With my new, hot, completely devoted boyfriend.
My new, hot, completely devoted boyfriend who was actually my escort.
My escort who actually was my stepbrother.
My hot stepbrother.
My hot ex-stepbrother, but still.
But still.
I was so fucked.
We just looked at each other for a beat.