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Ivy didn't say a word after reading the survey, much to Aronnax's surprise. She stuck it in a folder, left Aronnax a script to read, and left.

"Aron? You here?"

Aronnax poked her head out of her bedroom door and saw James standing down the hall. "Yeah," she said, and went back into her room. James appeared in the doorway a few minutes later.

Aronnax had two large duffel bags on her bed, propped against a huge pile of clothes that she was sifting through.

"You mean you haven't packed for tour yet?" he said.

"I haven't had time." She sighed and stuffed a purple hoodie into one of the bags.

"So you say," he said, smirking, and sat down in a chair in the corner.

"Not that it matters."

"You're nervous."

She looked up at him. "I am not."

"You are. I can tell."

"No, you can't."

"I've known you for something like ten years. I think I know when you're nervous."

She sighed. "Well, maybe a little. It's just . . . it's nothing. I don't like touring. You know that."

"Yeah." James shrugged, twisting a rubber band around in his hands.

She silently stuffed more clothes into her bags. Then a few books went in, toiletries, more clothes . . .

"Jason's coming to visit me," she said.

"Jason? You mean Ellis?"

"Yes." She rolled her eyes.

James raised an eyebrow. "What shows."

"I don't know. The Cincinnati one, and I think the one in Chicago."

"I didn't realize you two were that . . . serious."

"Honestly? I don't know if we are. He just said he wanted to come. I told him I'd get him tickets."

James laughed a little. "Desperate?"

Aronnax glared at him. "Yeah. Exactly." Then she sighed. "I don't know why I even bother, you know? It's not like it ever goes anywhere. He mentioned some Lauren girl . . . maybe they're dating now or something. Next thing you know, he'll be calling me, going, 'Hey, Ren, Lauren would love to come to the Chicago show. You think you can get me another ticket?' And I'll say yes, because I have no spine, and then . . . I'll just stand there and smile like I always do."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

She shrugged. "There's nothing I can do about it."

"You don't have to get him another ticket if he asks."

"I know."

"You could lie."

"Meh." She scoffed. "I suck at lying, especially to him."

"Okay," James said, "so if he said, 'Do you love me?' you'd say yes?"

She froze. "Probably . . . no. I don't think so." She paused. "But that doesn't mean I'd be convincing. You know, I really don't know why everyone's telling me —"

"I never told you —"

"— that I should get into acting. I can't even lie convincingly; how could I possibly be somebody else convincingly?"

"Music videos don't count?"

"I don't have to talk in those."

"I think you're taking it too seriously. I mean, really, what's a Razzie or two in the long run?"

She threw a wadded-up t-shirt at him and laughed. "Shut up."

"You want to go out tonight? You know we won't be able to get Cereno's pizza for a while."

She groaned and flopped down on her bed. "This is why I hate touring. I like being in one place, doing some work during the day, coming home and eating takeout."

"Yeah, yeah." James stood up. "Come on. Let's go before the late crowd gets there."

"Fine." She dragged herself off her bed, grabbed the first jacket she saw, and followed him out the door.