Chapter 15 #2
But I owed it to these guys to at least be a good conversation partner. Especially Tripp, who I’d been waiting to talk to for days.
Jeremy pulled me over first, despite the determined look in Austin’s eyes. We sat at the bar, each sipping a club soda meant to look like a cocktail.
Jeremy was pleasant enough, and the conversation flowed easily.
He told me about his dental practice. I told him about my tour.
He asked a lot of follow-up questions about what being a musical artist was like, which I appreciated.
He even seemed genuinely interested. I knew he was older, and I came to find out he was forty-one.
Age wasn’t a dealbreaker for me, but it was obvious we were at different places in our lives.
He wanted a family. “Like, yesterday,” he said.
While I’d always dreamed of that too, it wasn’t on my priority list any time soon.
Then Freddy stole me. His boyish good looks, and the fact that I’d just been looking at Jeremy’s more distinguished features for fifteen minutes, made him look extra young in the bar’s dim lighting.
If Jeremy was too mature for me, Freddy was most certainly too young.
He was fresh-faced, right out of college, and eager to see the world.
I admired his gumption. But as he went on and on about all the places he wanted to visit, exhaustion overcame me at the sheer thought of that much travel.
I’d barely survived my fifteen-stop album tour.
To my dismay, Austin pulled me aside next. I caught Tripp’s eye on the way, hoping I conveyed “Please steal me soon” in my look to him. I guess at least this way, I’d get this conversation with Austin over with and end on a potentially good note with Tripp.
He ended up directing me to a back corner booth where we’d have more privacy. Except for the cameras breathing down our neck and the microphones clipped to our clothing, of course.
“How’d ya like that?” he asked. Even though the couch was long, he sat down right next to me so that our thighs touched. I scooched away, but he shifted so that they touched again.
“Uh, the drink?” I asked, looking down at the margarita that I’d just taken a sip of. I hadn’t been planning on ordering my second allotted cocktail, but as soon as Austin grabbed me, I’d figured it couldn’t hurt.
He chuckled. God, I really couldn’t remember ever thinking this guy was handsome.
“No, my performance.”
My nose crinkled as I tried to smooth out my facial features.
Anyone watching this show would see how much this guy sucked, right?
Hopefully he really was getting the villain edit like Emma had implied.
But then wouldn’t that mean everyone would be screaming at me from their couch at home, wondering how in the hell I was giving this guy the time of day?
He should have been first to leave. I looked either stupid or shallow.
“It was great getting out of the house,” I said instead, keeping it neutral.
“I used to play pool in college. Won a few competitions.”
“Cool,” I said, the corners of my lips feeling strained.
He smiled, putting his arm on the back of the couch and resting his chin in his hand. “I even hustled a few guys last year. They thought I’d suck. I convinced them to put money on the game, and then I wiped the floor with them.”
“That’s…good for you.” My eyes shifted to the cameras where Emma stood watching us, headset on.
When I met her gaze, she aggressively shook her head. Right. Rule number one. Never look at the cameras.
“I could teach you some time,” he said, leaning in as I tried to shift backward.
“Um, I’ve never been very good.”
He laughed and poked my nose. I had the urge to bite his finger off. “That’s cute,” he said.
Then he launched into a story about his favorite bar by his house, where he was a regular. A dive bar that he wouldn’t be caught dead in normally, but he liked the wings at this one. He made it sound like an aquarium he visited. I tried to pay attention and not zone out.
I kept waiting for him to ask me a question about myself.
About my music. My last tour. What I liked to do in my free time.
But those pleasantries never came. It was like he was talking straight into a camera.
I could have been anyone. If they told him to close his eyes and quickly replaced me with a cardboard cutout, I wasn’t convinced he’d notice.
A yawn cracked through my neutral demeanor, and I raised my hand to cover it.
Something harsh flashed in his eyes at the motion, but he concealed it quickly. “Am I boring you?”
“I’m sorry,” I offered, leaning into my subtle southern accent for a change, trying to sound innocent. “Today’s just been exhausting.”
He licked his lip, eyes dropping to my own mouth. “Let me help you relax.”
He leaned in faster than I expected, and before I could fully process what was going on, he planted his lips on mine, bumping my nose in the process.
He tasted like stale peanuts. Had the bar put out bowls of them?
I hadn’t even noticed. Only a second or two must have passed before his tongue prodded my mouth.
I jerked away so quickly, the margarita I still held sloshed around and spilled all down the front of his shirt.
“Oh my God, crap,” I said, jumping to my feet.
“What the hell?” He glared at me, fanning his now-soaked shirt to try and dry it off.
“I’m so sorry. It was an accident.” I dabbed his shirt with a cocktail napkin but he swiped my hand away.
“Klutz,” he muttered under his breath.
My cheeks heated and anger ripped through me.
I wanted to call him out. He’d kissed me without my consent, forced his mouth onto mine when I hadn’t wanted it, and now he was pissed because I’d spilled my drink in shock?
But I didn’t say all that. Instead, I just apologized again and looked at my feet.
Shame rocked through me. Shame that had nothing to do with Austin, and everything to do with me and my own damn choices. Why was I even here?
“Everything okay?” Tripp’s deep voice was just behind me.
I shot him a ‘please, for the love of God, help me’ look. His eyes crinkled with amusement, and everything softened.
“Obviously not,” Austin barked.
“Well, I was just going to steal Trace.”
“We barely spoke.” Austin’s lip curled up in a sneer.
“You should go get changed. I’m so sorry I spilled on you,” I said.
Austin continued scowling before gulping and shaking his head.
I hated guys like that. So eager to put on a charming face in front of me, but the second something wasn’t going their way, they were incapable of hiding their contempt.
My lips still burned from his forced kiss, and I wished I could go to the bathroom to scrub them clean.
“It’s fine.” Austin put his mask back on and shot me a smile. “Next time. Okay? Rain check on this conversation.”
He finally left us, and I let out the breath I was holding.
A tinge of irritation flashed in Tripp’s gaze as he watched Austin retreat.
As I took him in, I was surprised to realize that I was ever so slightly nervous, and not in the bad way that had been plaguing me throughout filming. The good way. The I-get-to-talk-to-a-cute-new-boy way.
Tripp took my hand and led me to the other side of the bar. He smelled good, like fresh laundry or something. It was comforting. Almost enough to get the scent and aura of Austin out of my system entirely.
We sat in a loveseat hidden away in a different dark corner. Even though the seat was smaller than the one Austin and I had briefly shared, Tripp sat on the other cushion, offering me as much distance as I wanted.
Funny, when offered space by a guy who was actually a gentleman, I found myself wanting less of it.
He ran his hands up and down his dark jeans before tapping his thumbs against his thighs. “So…” he started and I noticed for the first time the subtle pink hue to his cheeks.
He was nervous. Adorably nervous.
I ducked my head, biting back the first real smile I’d had in hours.
“So,” I responded.
He met my eyes and we both let out a soft laugh. It was awkward. In a good way. Sweet, uncomfortable, trying to get to know someone. It was the realest moment I’d had since I arrived.
“Sorry, I’ve never been very good at small talk.” He gripped the back of his neck.
“That’s alright,” I said. “I’ve always been okay at it. Maybe we’ll balance each other out.”
That seemed to set him at ease a little. His shoulders dropped. “How are you holding up with all this?” he asked. “I know it’s not your first time on TV, or in the spotlight, but it’s got to be a lot of added pressure.”
“It is a lot of pressure.” My chest squeezed in gratitude that he’d noticed. “But I’m doing okay. Better than expected, even. How are you doing?”
He laughed. “I’ve always been on the shy side, so it’s been a lot moving into a new house with random guys. But everyone’s been nice…for the most part.” As if we could read each other’s minds, we both glanced to the door where Austin was being ushered outside by some of the crew.
“I’m glad everyone is getting along,” I said, meeting his eyes again.
He got shy again and dropped his gaze. “This may or may not be embarrassing to admit, but my brother signed me up super last minute. As soon as they announced you were going to be the lead of the show.”
Heat crept to my cheeks as I waited for him to continue.
“I may or may not have developed a little crush on you. I actually went to one of your shows.”
Yep, full-on heart squeezes now. “You did?”
He nodded. “You were amazing. Best show I’ve been to.”
Tears started to form behind my eyes. I could feel the pressure. When was the last time someone had said something so nice to me? Was it sad that such a simple statement nearly brought me to tears?
I was so used to my mother’s criticisms, or the label telling me my numbers weren’t enough. Or the handful of mean people on social media whose comments I always seemed to remember far more than the infinite kind messages. Or here, where I was a glorified pawn in a bigger game.
“I’m really glad your brother signed you up,” I said, taking his hand in mine. “Tell me more about yourself, Tripp.”
He laughed nervously. “Well, as you know I’m born and raised in Tennessee. My life isn’t all that extravagant. I help run my dad’s company—manufacturing, I won’t bore you with the details. It’s a small company, nothing to write home about, but we’re proud of it.”
I liked that. He worked at his family business. Honest work. He wasn’t trying to trick anyone or be some sleazy salesman.
“What about your free time? Any hobbies?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing too crazy. I spend a lot of time at home, maybe watching a movie or reading a book. I like the quiet.”
I hated that my mind wandered to Danny in this moment, but the stark difference between him and Tripp was laughable. How unlike the last guy in my life he was. Unadventurous? Quiet? I wished I could say the change of pace sounded refreshing, but something about it gnawed at my chest.
“What do you like to do for fun?” he asked.
Damn, when was the last time I’d had any free time for fun?
A memory jumped out at me, from months ago when I’d been with Danny, before our little bubble had been viciously popped.
We were doubled over, laughing, as he attempted to teach me how to cross-country ski in the front yard of his cabin.
I’d made it all of two feet before toppling over.
“Trying to write a new album has been taking up a lot of my time. I like to go for long walks,” I offered.
At least that was the truth. There was something so peaceful about walking in nature.
I loved exploring new trails, or new neighborhoods.
Any time I had a chance on tour—which, admittingly, wasn’t often—I liked to wake up early and walk around the city.
There was something really freeing about the early hours, and the sense of possibility.
People were out there, in cities I’d never get to live in, leading completely different lives. Something about that was so inspiring.
I’d tried sneaking out the back door to go for a walk on the beach yesterday morning, but someone from the crew had stopped me immediately. I was basically in a cage.
“I like walking, too,” Tripp said. “Although I’m usually taking my dog out, and I love him to death, but he has to stop every five steps to sniff something.”
I laughed, picturing it. “I love dogs. What’s his name?”
Tripp launched into describing his pride and joy, Max, a stubborn dachshund mix. Then he asked me questions about my music and about my family. He asked how I was doing no fewer than half a dozen times. And I got to know more about him.
If he were to be believed, he was the most boring man in North America, but I think it was just his humility talking.
He was a humble, sweet, quiet, even-tempered man.
Frankly, he was exactly what I would have told you I was looking for prior to this show starting.
It was easy to talk to him, and I nearly forgot about the cameras surrounding us.
They’d given us space, backing off, likely because Emma could see it was going well.
A lull in the conversation had Tripp looking nervous again. He scratched the back of his neck before looking down and back at me.
“Can I—would it be alright if I kissed you?”
I bit my lip and nodded.
He leaned in, lightly pressing his lips to mine. It was sweet. Soft. Our mouths moved against each other’s for just a moment, nothing like the forceful display of mouth-on-mouth Austin had afflicted on me earlier.
“Damn,” he breathed, when he pulled away.
I smiled up at him, but I couldn’t help but think about how utterly sensationless that kiss had been.
No butterflies.
No racing heart.
None of the good kind of nerves that usually resulted from a first kiss.
I let him press another quick kiss to my lips before we said our goodbyes, and I was ushered off to do some interviews.
Tripp was lovely. The kind of man I should want.
I just wished he was the man I did want.