23. Hungry Eyes #3
Then he turns, cupping my face gently. “Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?” he asks, that dimpled grin making it impossible to take him seriously.
“I might turn into a gremlin if you keep disturbing my sleep.”
“Good,” he says, softer now, like he means something else entirely. He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead.
“Did you pack your headphones this time?” Riley calls from the kitchen, already banging through cabinets.
“Top of the case,” I say, zipping my suitcase shut. “I’m not repeating that whole crying-on-the-plane situation again.”
She appears with two mugs, bun askew, face still pink from sleep. “Good. Now, would you like your coffee with a splash of scalding hot gossip?”
I narrow my eyes. “What are the vultures saying now?”
She flops onto the couch, tapping her phone like she’s cueing up a monologue. “It’s juicy. Brace yourself.”
“Oh God.”
“StarScene Weekly,” she announces. “Published at 5:47 a.m., which means someone got paid to write this while you were—what’s the word—fornicating.”
I roll my eyes at her taking a sip of the hot coffee.
She clears her throat, dramatic. “‘Elena Montgomery may have been the musical highlight at last night’s star-studded Children’s Hospital Holiday Gala, but it wasn’t her vocals that had everyone buzzing—it was the man on her arm…’”
I grab a mug and sink into the chair across from her, bracing.
“‘In exclusive photos obtained by StarScene Weekly, Elena can be seen holding hands with an unidentified companion, the two leaning in close during the evening’s festivities…’”
“Unidentified?” I mutter. “He’s six-foot-four and built like a house.”
“Exactly,” Riley says, scrolling. “‘The definition of tall, dark, and delicious.’”
Well. At least they got that right.
I grin into my coffee.
“Sources say the pair looked like they wanted to skip the party and get a room, which”—Riley raises a brow—”is honestly generous. They didn’t know about the coat closet.”
I chuck a napkin at her. “You’re the worst.”
“You love me.”
I sip slowly, heat curling behind my cheeks. “Does it say anything else?”
She holds out the phone, screen turned toward me. A photo. Blurry, half-obscured, but unmistakable. Me in that emerald dress. Broderick beside me. His face turned just enough to shield his identity, but our fingers are laced. My head tilted up toward him.
That look on my face.
Soft. Stupid. Seen.
“They’ll figure out who he is.”
“They always do,” Riley replies, gentler now. “But maybe it’s time?”
“Time for what?” I ask staring at the screen. At his hand in mine. The look of happiness on my face.
“Time for you to admit that maybe there’s more here than just the sex?” she says.
Was I ready to admit that—to him, to the world…to myself?
My conversation with Riley replays as Luca drives me to the airport. The sky hangs low, buildings half dissolved behind streaks of rain. I pull my coat tighter around me, sunglasses perched low—even though no one can see me in the back seat.
I can’t stop thinking about last night—how we couldn’t get enough of each other, how easy it is between us, the banter, the laughter, the sex.
How he peppered kisses along my shoulder, one for every day we’d be apart, before he left
My phone rings.
Kylie.
I sigh and answer, “Hey.”
“Don’t hey me,” she snaps. “Is there a reason I’m waking up to a headline about you and some mystery man at the gala?”
I stare out the window. “Do I really have to divulge every detail of my life to you?”
“Only when it comes to protecting you and your image.”
“Right. And I feel like a songbird in a gilded cage.”
“Elegant metaphor. Love that for you. But with the shit Alex is pulling on social media, and now this—the last thing we need is another wild love-triangle to derail things. Not happening. Not again.”
“I’m not planning a People exclusive,” I mutter. “We’re not even—” I stop myself.
Kylie exhales like she’s been holding in an entire monologue.
“Please tell me this guy doesn’t have a secret girlfriend or baby mama,” she says, weary.
“He’s squeaky,” I sigh.
“Good. Then stay quiet. Let them wonder—just keep me in the loop if things change and you guys plan on going public—but ease up on the PDA if you don’t want to continue to end up splashed on gossip rags.”
“Will do.”
There’s a pause. Then softer. “I got you, okay? Even when I’m yelling.”
“Thanks.”
“Kylie out.”
I lower the phone and stare at the screen in my lap.
Fuck—the gravity of it settles in. She was right—the last thing I need is a scandal to derail contract renegotiations with the label.
I can’t even come to terms with how complicated things are between us, let alone have every fan, Karen, and Chad dissecting us for sport.
We were reckless, this cannot happen again.
I have to protect him from the noise. The spectacle that comes with someone like me.
Because the last thing I need is for him to run.
What if it all gets too much and he realizes that I’m too much?
I press my hand to the window and watch the city blur.
I don’t know how long I can keep the noise out—or if I’m even worth it once it gets in.