Chapter 5 Luc #2
It sounds dumb, considering everything about him, from the color of his hair to the way he holds himself, is different. I’m looking at a completely different person, but I still see the boy I met in the green of his eyes and the shape of his mouth.
“Quite a few more,” he says, and either I’m mistaken or he’s flirting with me. I try to arrange my face into a semblance of a smile rather than gawking at what he might be insinuating. He winks and I nearly choke.
The door bursts open without warning, saving me from what I’m sure would have been an awkward response to his blatant come-on. A harried staffer pokes their head in. “Jess, they need you back for press photos. Please.”
Jesse grimaces but doesn’t argue. “I’ll be right there.”
When the door shuts, he looks back at me with urgency in his eyes. He stands, and so do I, my posture stiffening when he takes a few long strides to close the distance between us.
“Without coming on too strong, I’d really like the chance to get to know you. For real this time. I know we’ve both got crazy schedules, but maybe we can get together sometime soon?”
“Okay,” I say. “Yeah, that might be nice.”
“Might be?” He smirks. “I’ll take it. Can I see your phone?”
I hand it to him and watch him enter his number and then send himself a text. When he hands it back, I notice he added himself as “Ghost”. My breath hitches a little.
Someone knocks on the door, and Jesse groans. He places a hand on my arm and leans in slowly. His breath tickles across my cheek. “Text me. Please,” he says, his lips grazing the corner of my mouth.
“I will,” I promise.
Because I know I will. Even though the cautious parts of me are screaming that he’s trouble, I know without a doubt that I can’t resist the man in front of me. This close, he’s… inevitable.
And then he’s gone, swept back into the chaos that is his rockstar life, leaving me in the quiet hum of a room that smells faintly of cloves, cinnamon, and sweat.
The team bus idles outside. AJ leans halfway out the open door like he’s been waiting for me and might come haul me in by the ear.
“Where the hell have you been?” He asks the moment I get close enough. His eyes are questioning and weirdly excited. “Dude, it almost looked like Jesse Moore really ran off stage and sprinted after you like some kind of corny rom-com.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, because I don’t have a better response prepared.
“Get on the bus, León.” My voice comes out hoarser than I intend, and I can tell he senses weakness.
He clocks it and makes a show out of pressing his lips together, but his smile tells me it’s not going to hold for long.
I drop into the seat beside him and busy myself with my phone to avoid his gaze. There’s already a message from Jesse.
Ghost: If it wasn’t obvious enough, I’m really glad we found each other again.
Me: You mean, that you found me, tracked me down, and set up an elaborate ploy to corner me instead of just sending an email like a normal person?
The three little dots that indicate he’s typing pop up immediately.
Ghost: Semantics.
Ghost: I considered it, honestly. I was worried you wouldn’t respond.
Me: That’s fair.
Ghost: OUCH
Me: I probably wouldn’t have thought you were real.
Ghost: I’m real. And looking forward to proving it to you.
Me: Forward, much?
Ghost: We’ve already seen each other naked. What is there to be shy about?
I almost choke. AJ leans over to see what I’m looking at, but I cover the screen.
“Man, mind your business.”
“Are you really not going to tell me what happened back there? Do you, like, know him or something?”
“Who?”
AJ glares at me like I’m an idiot. Jesse and I didn’t discuss what, if anything, we should tell other people.
I know I don’t want my relationship with him, or whatever this is, out in public.
There’s not a chance in hell I could maintain my peaceful, private life if I’m connected to a famous rockstar. Jesse probably feels the same.
Anyway, I don’t think I should be talking or even thinking too hard about it when I have no idea where this is going or if it’ll lead anywhere at all. Hell, I might never see him again for all I know.
But I hope I do.
Back at our hotel for the night, it takes practically slamming the door in AJ’s face to get him off my back.
I had to feign being more tired than I am to get him to leave me alone, because he was hard set on coming in and hanging out instead of going out with the rest of the guys.
I know he’s curious and wants answers, but I don’t have any right now.
I shower, pull on pajama pants, and brush my teeth in a daze.
Jesse has sent me a couple more messages, but I’ve put off opening them until I was alone.
Now I’m putting them off out of sheer nerves.
I can’t lie to myself and say I’m not intrigued–or at least a little turned on–by his directness.
After all, he’s right. We definitely have seen each other naked.
And while it might have been six years ago, it’s still a memory that burns hot in the back of my mind.
Not to mention that Jesse is… damn. Jesse is dangerously sexy.
Before I look at his texts, I decide to search his name and see if I can learn a little more about him. The screen floods with an endless list of fan sites, show clips, paparazzi photos. Gossip sites, especially, are obsessed with him. And it looks like he’s given them plenty to work with.
By all accounts, Jesse Moore lives the stereotypical “sex, drugs, and rock and roll” lifestyle people expect from someone in his business.
Wild parties, drunken escapades, sex scandals.
There are grainy photos of him making out with men and women alike and even articles about him getting caught having sex in public.
Article after article. Picture after picture.
Well, there’s no worry about him being closeted. I scoff. The thought isn’t exactly reassuring. I’m not comfortable with this level of publicity, no matter who he’s with.
Every headline and picture documenting Jesse’s wild lifestyle makes my stomach twist. It’s not that I’m judging Jesse for his lifestyle–he seems to enjoy himself, and that’s all fine and good. But it isn’t me.
Maybe Jesse wouldn’t mind rumors tying him to me, but me being connected to him would definitely blow up my quiet life overnight.
It has nothing to do with being outed, either.
I’ve never considered what it would be like to be publicly out, but I don’t really care what people think about my sexuality. I just don’t want the attention.
And being tied to a hard-partying rockstar who regularly makes tabloid front pages? That’s a lot of attention, and the wrong kind at that.
When I finally open Jesse’s most recent texts, the flirty words don’t give me a fluttery nervous feeling anymore. The butterflies are rocks in the pit of my stomach now.
Maybe I’m more judgmental than I thought.
All I can think about is why someone like Jesse–someone rich and famous that could have anyone he wants eating out of the palm of his hand–would be interested in pursuing me?
Then again, maybe our first meeting wouldn’t lead him to think I’m as boring as I really am.
I stare at the glow of my phone screen, the words blurring together.
My chest tightens. I don’t know how to feel.
All this curiosity and excitement over reconnecting with this person I’ve fantasized about for six years.
But there’s a confused sadness welling up with the realization that there’s no happily ever after for us.
What could Jesse even want with me, other than a roll in the sheets? Will the passion that brought us together so long ago still be there? Or will what I have to offer seem boring by comparison?
Do I really want to put myself out there for another one-night stand when my first encounter wrecked me so thoroughly?