CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Whitney
T his is the craziest thing that has ever happened to me.
I’m in New York, dressed to the nines in the most expensive dress I’ve ever run my fingertips over. It’s red and fitted over my curves. My hair has been colored and blown out. I look like an impostor all dressed up, but I love feeling like I’m wearing someone else’s shoes.
Well, I actually am, but I’m forgetting that bit.
“You ready?” Ari asks. The woman is a nonstop workaholic. The entire plane ride here she was on her phone or computer. Even now, she’s clicking away on her phone, texting someone something. It makes me grateful my job involves fresh air and the outdoors. Touching grass is a real thing in my day-to-day.
“Yes. Nervous.”
“Don’t be. Just think of yourself as Cinderella and this is your carriage.”
“All we’re missing is Prince Charming,” I joke.
She smiles and something about it catches my eye so that I don’t look away. “We’re about to pull up to the curb where someone’s going to help you get out. You’ll walk the red carpet. Media will take photos. Some people will call out questions—”
“Questions?”
“Yes. Who you are or why you’re there, but you don’t have to answer them if you don’t want to. Just smile and move on down the line. Then you’ll go inside. You’ll watch the movie. You can attend the after-party if you wish, or you can head back to the room. And a car will be there to pick you up at eight a.m. to bring you to the airport.”
“Wait. You’re not getting out with me?” I ask as the car pulls up to the curb.
“No.” She smiles and lifts her chin to where the door is opening. “ But he is .”
I whip my head to look to the door where a hand is reaching in for me to take. I can’t see his face, but I already know by the suit-clad body who is standing before me.
I look up and meet a pair of storm cloud-colored eyes. Hardy . Surprise mixed with relief moves through me.
He flashes one of those panty-melting smiles of his that has me briefly forgetting where we are and what I’m about to do. “What are you doing here?” I laugh out as he helps me from the car.
“I’m your date.” He brushes a kiss in greeting to my cheek. The action startles me but not as much as the burst of flashes and cacophony of questions that ring out suddenly as the group of people ahead of us reach the media scrum.
I don’t have time to register the fact that he’s here. That I’m here. Or that despite what Ari said, this feels like a perfectly crafted publicity stunt.
I’m a little too awestruck and overwhelmed to even think it.
All I can focus on is Hardy standing in front of me looking incredibly handsome. He’s my only sanity in the unknown craziness that I can assume is about to unfold.
“I don’t understand,” I say incredulously as another burst of flashes goes off.
“You don’t have to.” He smiles again as I glance back at the car to where Ari should be, but our car has already begun to move on so that the next car in line can drop off its occupants. “But warning, things are about to happen really fast.” He takes my hand and hooks it through his arm to direct my attention back to him. “And the flashes will be blinding so just hold on tight to me and I’ll get you through it.”
“This is crazy.”
“Welcome to my life,” he says, his lips so close to my ear, the heat of his breath tickling my cheek and sending chills through my body. “And Whitney?”
“Hmm?” I ask, turning to look at him and startling at the proximity of his lips to mine. They’re inches away. My breath hitches, and my pulse thunders in my ears. The look in his eyes has my thoughts stuttering and my body humming.
“You look absolutely stunning,” he murmurs.
And no sooner are those words spoken, then we’re swallowed by the moment.
The flashes. Oh my God. They’re like a million stars exploding in my eyes all at once. And if they aren’t overstimulation, the barrage of questions comes right after, overwhelming me.
“You’re doing great,” he says, his mouth by my neck. It’s enough to make me still and probably give a deer in the headlights look to the camera.
But does it really matter when there are so many of them? I don’t know where to look in the first place. All I know is his hand on my lower back is a silent source of comfort that I need, even if I want to understate its importance.
That makes it easier for me to ignore the confusion racing through my system.
“Hardy. Here. Look here.”
“Miss Barnes. Over here.”
How do they know my name? But he must sense my body tensing as my name is shouted over and over because he leans in once again, his mouth to my ear, and says, “They have a press sheet that says who is who so they know.”
I nod furtively and swallow as I continue to smile until my cheeks hurt.
“Thank you,” he says loudly to the press. “Good to see you too.” He continues to chat idly with the media like it’s just another day while we wait for our turn to enter the theater. I hope the blind spots in my vision subside sooner rather than later. “You okay?” he asks me as we move into the foyer of the theater.
“Yeah. Yes. That was . . .”
“Intense? Always is. Now the rest is easy.”
He ushers us farther into the lobby. People stop to speak with him here and there—people with one-word names and large entourages that follow them while others whisper and stare at him from afar. Phones come out and pictures are snapped discretely. He’s definitely a huge attraction to the people in the room, but every time someone approaches, he makes sure to introduce me and talk about the academy and the work I’m doing.
I’ve never needed validation in my life. Yet there is something about him giving it to me, about him talking about it with other people who clearly have influence, that does just that—provides validation.
He offers unexpected attentiveness, especially when the whole world wants him, and it has me studying him while he talks.
He knows how to play this game. He’s good at it. And by the weirdest set of circumstances, I never could’ve imagined, today, I’m a part of it.
The lights blink, no doubt to tell us that the movie is going to start. “Do you want to watch the movie, or do you want to leave?” he asks quietly.
“What do you mean go?” I glance around at all of the people leaving the theater through a side exit and realize that for many, this is just a pretend appearance. People really leave? But ... “I—uh—whatever you want to do.”
He angles his head and studies me. There’s a quiet intensity to it that I don’t understand, but my mind flashes back to what feels like forever ago when I got out of the car and his mouth was right there, so close. And as if he’s remembering that moment too, he reaches out and brushes a lock of hair off my bare shoulder. But he doesn’t move his hand. Instead he rests his palm there and runs his thumb back and forth over my collarbone.
My breath hitches.
My body heats.
Every part of me wants this weird dance of desire that we’ve skirted around since we met, but now it feels like we’re dipping our toes right into it.
“Hardy?”
I jump back at the voice that calls his name, and I’m grateful for the interruption. But he doesn’t look toward the voice. He keeps his eyes fully focused on me. “We’re coming,” he says. “We just need to get some snacks first. What do you want, Whitney?”
“I—uh—” I glance over to the fancy tables laid out with all the treats one can think of. They run the gamut from typical movie food to fancier. “You pick.”
I expect Hardy to pass on everything. I’ve seen the man eat lunch, and it’s a balanced perfection of proteins and carbs. He surprises me by grabbing exactly what I would have picked. Buttered popcorn. Cheesy nachos. Two glasses of white wine.
We’re led to our seats inside the theater just as the lights dim.
It’s right when the opening credits begin to roll that I feel the heat of his breath on my neck. I fight the urge to ask him to stay right there with his breath feathering over my skin.
“I was wrong, Whitney.”
“About?” The stupid word comes out breathless rather than nonchalant as I’d intended. No doubt its sound is aided by the ache in my lower belly, which is currently simmering to life.
“That first night in the bar, I thought blue was your color. I was wrong. It’s red. Definitely red . You’re stunning in that color.”