Slowly, I look up and spot someone with a mop of brown hair, watching us from above a shelf. He ducks quickly when our eyes meet. Holy shit. I can’t do this. I can’t. I grab Lo’s hand, my chest constricting in a paranoid, freakazoid way. Swiftly, I drag him into the nearest bathroom, ignoring the fact that Brett trails us. I shut the door on the cameraman before he enters.
OHH OMG. this is what they edited to make it look like they were having sex. holy.
