Chapter 19
19
Caleb
We wake up wrapped up in each other again, but now there’s nothing between us but sheets and sweat and the memories of last night.
My heart picks up as I look at Val in the morning light, gazing my fill. Sometime in the earliest of hours, the sheet slipped off her bare shoulder. I resist the urge to skate my fingers across her skin. I don’t want to disturb her sleep, but I’m also afraid that if I touch her, she’ll be nothing but a ghost.
It would be too easy to get used to this again. Her heat. Her scent. Valerie is everywhere, and I can’t get enough. I thought I remembered what it was like being with Valerie, but I forgot the tiny details: the sigh she lets out when she wants something, the way she rolls her hips when she’s begging for more, how her eyes flutter shut when she’s about to come like she’s trying to savor every ounce of pleasure.
I’m hard just thinking about it, and that’s no way to wake her up. But it doesn’t go unnoticed, as she twists around in my arms to face me with a drowsy smirk.
“We have a big day today. You can’t just keep me in bed,” she murmurs.
“I could , though.”
“God, last night was incredible.” She bites her lip, glancing up at me through lashes that are still a little stuck together from sleep. “Breath control, huh, Mr. Sloane? Who’d have thought?”
“It has its uses,” I say, and she laughs, falling into my shoulder with an ease that twists my heart. Her hair tickles my skin, and I tug her closer. I missed this, touching just because we want to, losing track of where I end and she begins.
“As someone with real-world data, I can safely say it improves the experience,” she murmurs.
I draw back, faking offense. “Are you saying I wasn’t as good back then?”
Her eyes dance. “Things were always good between us. I’m saying it was even better , dumbass.”
“If you say so,” I say.
She pouts. “Aren’t you going to tell me I’ve gotten better with my tongue?”
Val hasn’t just gotten better with her tongue, and she knows it. Holy hell. “I could, but you’ve already got such a big head. Especially when you’re giving it .”
Valerie swats my shoulder, then rolls away from me.
“Okay, get up, you big sexy idiot. We need to check if we’re trending.”
My stomach drops. “Oh, right, of course.” I scramble to get out of the sheets, but I can’t shake the feeling of being diminished to a publicity stunt. That’s not what I wanted with her. I wouldn’t have done this if…
“I mean, we were definitely photographed. Our strategy worked. Time to see if we made a splash for that kiss,” she muses, slipping out of bed and pulling on a robe.
I try to follow her lead as I tug on my boxers and gather the rest of my clothes from where we discarded them on the floor, but it doesn’t remove the lead weight in my chest. Was this really just PR for her?
My stomach roils. “Right. We have to see how the strategy is going.”
Valerie’s eyes go wide, and she steps closer to me. “Oh my god, no, Caleb, I didn’t mean this is just sex or anything, seriously. I just want to know if people are talking about us after last night. The press always liked me better when I was with you, and this is the first time we’ve ever publicly confirmed our relationship.” She cackles, scrolling. “Oh! It’s not super clear the photos are of us, but people are talking! We did it!”
I run a hand over my hair, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. “So even though things are getting real between us, you still want to keep playing it up publicly for the press?” I ask.
She never wanted this attention on us when we were younger. She insisted we never do this, and the change is giving me whiplash. This is already getting complicated and I haven’t had my tea yet.
Val nods. “Exactly! I know it’s a lot, especially because we don’t even know what this thing is between us right now, but I actually think it’ll be easier. Now we’re not totally lying. We can figure out what this all means when things calm down.”
This means I still love you , I want to say, but I know it’s too much, too soon. No one says those words after one night, even if that night was years in the making. I need to pull myself together.
“And I mean, we’re already doing this, right? There’s no point in trying to hide it now. That’s when things got complicated before.” Her voice is hesitant, like she’s not sure if this is the right call.
And my mind reels, because I don’t know the best way to handle this.
Things didn’t get messy before because people speculated about our relationship—they got messy because Valerie wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening…and I never understood why until now. It was so hard to keep track of all the secrets we were holding that our relationship became full of tension and conflict instead of joy.
I’m losing track of what’s real all over again. Still, if she needs to keep the press talking, I can do that for her. Because I do understand. We’re not in our early twenties anymore, and there are bigger implications for her career than just one concert involving the Glitter Bats.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that mixing our relationship and our media strategy is a bad idea. But I kiss her temple and slip back into my room to get ready, trying to stop overanalyzing everything that’s happened over the past twenty-four hours. Despite the multiple orgasms we shared, tension creeps into my shoulders as I find myself alone.
Today we meet with a stylist to prepare our looks for next weekend’s premiere of Into the Dragon Realm , an animated series Jane worked on as both composer and musical director. At first, the band wasn’t on the guest list, but Jane’s New York agent made magic happen. They’re probably just as eager for the press as everyone else.
Jane insisted we don’t need to do anything fancy to prep today, but after I place a breakfast order, I decide to spend extra time in the bathroom exfoliating and moisturizing, falling into more old rhythms like it’s been weeks instead of years since I lived this life. Now that Valerie and I have made a splash, I know cameras could be anywhere. Might as well try to look the part.
I’m also just a bundle of nerves, and the familiar routine steadies me.
When we first started playing music together, we never expected to walk a red carpet. But once we got a few nominations for Bittersweet , we started navigating the labyrinth of the awards circuit. The first time we walked a red carpet, we didn’t hire stylists, didn’t get outfits tailored, didn’t even know how to respond to questions. It was a lot of learning on the fly, but we figured it out toward the end. For the most part.
And then we got a little media training.
Everyone else has so much more practice than I do these days, and I don’t want to do anything to hurt the opportunity for good press. So I do everything I can to make myself presentable, shaving as close as I can and putting pomade in my hair, partly because I’m trying to put my best foot forward and partly because I need the extra time to process my feelings about last night.
There’s nothing in my head but thoughts of Valerie— the good, the anxious, the uncertain. My Earl Grey and avocado toast arrive as I’m tugging on a shirt for the day, and I resist the urge to scroll on my phone as I eat. I’ve seen enough of what they’re saying about us.
It’s amazing that we’re reconnecting, but I’m still nervous to start up again in front of the cameras. Last time, secrets tore us apart. This time, the press is going to know everything. I wonder, idly, if there’s somewhere we can meet in the middle, so we’re not hiding our relationship but we’re also not allowing ourselves to be consumed. This could wreck us too.
But Valerie still needs this, and she’s worth the risk. I can’t say no to her. Even if we crash and burn at the end, I’m in this now. I just hope we can pull this off the way she planned.
After I brush my teeth, I finish getting dressed and head down to meet the others in a conference room. The beige space has been transformed into a shock of vibrant color. I never got used to it, but when you’re famous, they bring the clothes to you. There are racks of designer suits on one wall, racks of gowns on another, and in the middle is a raised platform where a stylist, a tailor, and Wade are chatting over a tablet. Keeley, Jane, and Valerie comb through the rack of gowns, and even though I definitely took too long upstairs, I’m not the last to arrive.
“Is Riker not down yet?” I ask as I approach the rest of the band.
“I was hoping he’d be with you!” Jane says, sighing as she glances at her phone. Some things haven’t changed in six years, including Riker’s aggressive insomnia. Other than making a few offhand comments, we never fought about it as a group, because we all assumed his chaotic sleep schedule had something to do with his not-so-great family. His parents used to fight late at night, and he’d survived by stuffing on noise-canceling headphones and Twitch streaming past midnight. We just let him cope, offered shoulders to lean on. It was hard enough for him to focus on the band without their support. Besides, he’s never missed a gig, always powering through with energy drinks and sheer will.
I might need a caffeine boost myself after the decidedly little sleep I got last night. My fingers brush against the gowns near me, some with shining and silky smooth fabric, others glittering and abrasive, but I need something to hold me steady while taking Valerie in. She looks normal in a white hoodie and a pair of leggings, but after what we got up to last night, I can’t tear my gaze from her. She blushes bright pink against the soft fabric of her sweatshirt.
“Good morning,” she says softly.
“Good morning.” I catch her gaze, grinning a little just for her before I turn to the rest of the band. “How are we all doing?”
Keeley raises her brows. “I don’t know. How are we doing?”
Heat floods my neck at the insinuation, but any shyness evaporates as I lock eyes with Valerie. One blazing look is enough to pull me under her spell, and my chest aches with the need to be closer to her. She bites her lip. It takes every effort not to cross the few feet between us and soothe that worried mouth with a kiss.
Jane clears her throat. “Uhh…that was quite the press photo.”
“Right, the photo,” I say. Somehow…I momentarily forgot we’re all over the internet.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” Valerie adds.
My heart twists at that, and it sobers me a little. “We got caught, I guess.”
“Oh my god , I fucking knew you two wouldn’t last the summer,” Keeley says, face lighting up in vindication.
Jane looks at me, her brows furrowed. “So…how much of this is strategy and how much is…you know, real?”
God, I wish I knew.
“We’re figuring it out!” Valerie says, almost too brightly. “But that’s not important right now—my stylist quit months ago, and I’m so excited to work with a new one for the red carpet!” I try not to take the not important personally, but ouch . It’s impossible. My chest goes tight.
“Fine, but we’re talking about this later,” Keeley says dryly. She and Valerie return to the rack, but Jane’s still looking at me, frowning.
It’s all good , I mouth at Jane with a shrug.
She shakes her head, placing one of her small, warm hands on my arm. It makes me miss my sister so badly it hurts. Cameron would know what to say right now. She always has the best advice, and she has a fresh perspective since she’s not in the industry. I wish I could call her, but she works today, and I don’t want her to think it’s an emergency.
And Valerie and I will figure it out. Her voice breaks me out of my spiral, and Jane and I turn to the others.
“You could always go with the sexy suit option, Keels,” Valerie is suggesting. “Like Blake Lively in A Simple Favor .”
“Definitely not ruling it out,” Keeley says. “There are also some gorgeous gowns and jumpsuits.” It goes against all of her badass girl drummer vibes, but out of all of us, Keeley is the one who gets the most excited about these events. When you’re doing red carpets, it’s a lot of nonstop smiling, a lot of waiting, long hours in uncomfortable clothes, but I think Keeley enjoys getting out from behind the drum set and stepping into center stage.
I’ve seen this woman dancing and downing tequila shots in a skintight Tom Ford gown at three a.m. like she hadn’t been parading in front of cameras for twelve hours. Something about the long days just energizes her when it exhausts the rest of us, and I wish I had an ounce of her enthusiasm.
Then again, if I did, I might still be in the industry.
“I’ve always been tempted to take the pants route, but I can’t resist a pretty dress,” Valerie adds.
“Oooh, we have to find you something backless!” Keeley says, heading to the other rack of gowns with Jane close on her heels.
“Backless is good,” I murmur to Valerie, who winks before following them.
“Caleb, come here a sec,” Wade calls. I hurry over, and he introduces me to our team for the day. The stylist, a slender Black person with short curls and a perfectly tailored jumpsuit, introduces themselves as Rowan. They met Keeley through Bianca Martin, Keeley’s still-friendly ex, and they’re going to be styling us for Glitter Bats press as well as the Into the Dragon Realm premiere.
The tailor, a white and curvy woman with spiky gray hair, introduces herself as Jenna. She hasn’t met anyone in the band before, but Rowan enthusiastically vouches for her talent.
“We’re going to be working off the rack due to the timing, but with a build like this? You have options ,” Rowan says, gesturing at me. My cheeks warm at the compliment, because I’m not used to being scrutinized like this anymore, but I manage a muttered thank-you as they comb through the racks. My heart stops as I see the names on the labels. Six years ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about buying a bunch of these suits, blowing five figures in one shopping trip like the money would never run out.
Suddenly, my breathing shallows as the cost of everything in the room hits me with full force. It’s probably enough to buy my mom a house. At least I’m not picking up the bill today—designers usually provide red-carpet clothes because they want them to be seen and talked about.
Jenna crosses her arms, oblivious to my mental spiral.
“We can rush an alteration if needed, though, so let’s get a few quick measurements. Do you mind?” she asks, gesturing at me. The no-nonsense tone behind her question leaves no room to mind, but I’m grateful for the ask.
“Not at all,” I say weakly. At least I remembered how to handle this part. I’m in a T-shirt and athletic shorts, something easy to change out of without any added bulk. Jenna gestures me up onto the platform, then measures my waist, the breadth of my shoulders, the length of my arms. She rattles off measurements, and Rowan takes them down. Once they’ve got everything they need recorded on a tablet, they both hurry over to the rack of suits, grabbing three options after some hushed consultation.
“Let’s put him in the Hugo Boss and see what we have to work with,” Rowan says. I’m ushered behind a screen, where I’m handed the suit and a white button-down. I strip out of my clothes and shrug into the suit.
When I step out, Riker wolf whistles across the room, apparently having finally shown up for his own fitting. I flip him off before stepping up onto the makeshift platform and staring at myself in the mirror. Rowan hurries over and takes stock of the ensemble, tugging at a sleeve here and straightening a pant leg there. Excitement ripples around me, but I don’t feel it. I’m just numb. A stranger stares back at me from the mirror.
I swallow thickly. At least the eyeliner and pomade were things I chose, so putting them back on didn’t feel so jarring. Wearing a suit that I could never afford on my teacher salary just makes me feel like I’m playing dress-up, like this summer is all pretend.
“Honestly, even if we had more time, I’d put you in Boss. You’re lean but broad-shouldered—hell, this suit was made for you,” Rowan says, swooping in over my shoulder to smooth my lapel.
“We’ll just take the hem up a bit and call it good,” Jenna adds. I laugh, because the a bit is generous. At my five foot seven, she’ll definitely need to take a big chunk off the pants like past tailors usually did, but that never really bothered me.
“Sounds good,” I say. It’s a nice suit, and I’m excited to celebrate Jane, but I really don’t care what I look like. I’d rather skip the premiere if I could get away with it. I don’t feel like the guy who wears designer suits and smiles for a hundred flashbulbs anymore.
But whether I feel like him or not, it’s what I have to do.
With my look taken care of, Rowan and Jenna call Riker over and start recording his measurements. He’s got them both laughing in seconds, the way he always does when he meets new people.
“Caleb looks smoking hot,” Keeley half yells across the room.
“Yeah, he does,” Valerie murmurs. I catch her gaze in the mirror, and it’s full of so much heat that I’m not sure how anyone could miss it. But it sends a thrill up my skin, the way she’s looking at me with such open appreciation. My shoulders relax a little in the jacket.
I slip behind the screen and change back into my own clothes, then place the suit on the hanger—but I don’t resent the thick, expensive fabric the way I thought I would. Getting all dressed up isn’t so bad if it makes Valerie look at me like that, and I know I can survive a red carpet with her by my side.
Maybe playing up our romance isn’t the worst thing we could do.