Dollhouse by and Khloé Kardashian Kim Kourtney Page A

successfully since That Day, and she wasn’t about to change that now.
    That Day. They had made out for a while, almost going all the way, then stopped at the last minute when Kyle had suddenly freaked out and stormed off without a word. He had texted her later, apologizing and asking if they could talk. She had texted back, saying that she didn’t want to talk and didn’t want to continue the tutoring sessions with him, and if he had any ideas about narking her out to the parents, she would kill him. He’d never responded, but she hadn’t gotten chewed out by Kat and Beau either, so he was obviously complying.
    Problem was . . . it meant she actually had to study and do her homework all on her own, so she could reach-slash-maintain a 3.0 average and make it look as though Benjy were still tutoring her. God. Of course, it wasn’t that hard for her to get decent grades. Her classes were actually a piece of cake. It was the principle of it, though. She hated her school, and the idea of school in general. She hated having to follow other people’s rules and expectations of who she was supposed to be. An obedient, good-girl, straight-A student? That wasn’t her. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the opposite of that either, not entirely. But she felt she had to be that badass rebel, just to broadcast loud and clear to her teachers, parents, society, everyone, that she was her own person.
    As for Benjy . . . well, the whole thing was just too weird to even process. To be honest, she had liked making out with him. But that was demented, right? And maybe even illegal? As in, incest? All she knew was, her mother and Beau would totally lose their shit if they found out. They might even send her to a convent, after all . . . no exaggeration there. She enjoyed pissing off her mother, but not that much.
    Suddenly in a foul mood, Kyle glared at the photos of Channing Tatum and Megan Fox stuck on the back of her locker door and tore them down. She crumpled them up into angry little balls and tossed them over her shoulder.
    They hit some random girl in the head. “What the fuck?” the girl cried out.
    “What’s the matter with you, Kyle? Channing and Meggie not doing it for you anymore?” Ash teased her.
    “Hey, speaking of . . . have you seen the new dude who just transferred here? From New York? He could be Channing’s twin,” Priscilla gushed.
    Ash raised her hand. “Dibs!”
    “I called it first! Or, hey, maybe we could three-sixty-nine him . . .”
    “I’m late for history,” Kyle said, slamming her locker shut. “Later, bitches.” She slung her backpack over her shoulder and started down the hall.
    “What about tonight? Graydon’s party? You want us to pick you up?” Ash called out after her.
    “I don’t know. Sure. Let me think about it,” Kyle replied.
    Maybe an out-of-control party was just what she needed to sort out her bad mood and put things in perspective?

Chapter Eighteen
    Kamille
    “K amille, blow a kissy face!”
    “Can you two stand closer?”
    Kamille snuggled against Chase and smiled for the cameras. They were walking the red carpet at a new club downtown where they were attending a charity fashion show.
    They had been dating for a whole month now, but this was only their second public appearance at an event. Chase preferred to go to one of their favorite little restaurants in West Hollywood or Beverly Hills, where the (well-tipped) maître d’s helped to shield them from paparazzi, or to stay in.
    Mostly, Chase preferred to stay in. In bed. Which was just fine with Kamille. Lately, they had gotten into the habit of ordering in, and making love, and drinking lots of champagne, and making love, and watching old movies or sports games on his giant plasma screen, and making love. It was heaven.
    Really, her life was so perfect now. She and Chase were blissfully happy together. The Lolita perfume ad was getting a lot of attention, and she had just started shooting the Flower Power jeans ad