chapter 28
Remi
WHEN I EASE THE JEEP up to the drop-off lane, my stomach and throat tighten up, and I immediately try to push the feelings down.
It’s late afternoon on Wednesday, and I have a shift at the club tonight, which means this little fantasy I’ve been living in for the past couple days has to come to an end—so I can step back into the other fantasy, the one I create with sequins and false lashes and glittering stilettos.
The one that used to feel like home. But now, dangerously and stupidly, it feels like home is about to slide out of my passenger’s seat and fly back to California.
Do not cry, I tell myself.
I’ve done way too much crying the past couple days, and I don’t like it. I’ve never been a crier. But I’ve also never been down bad for a rock star who likes pedicures before either, so I guess there’s a first time for everything.
Sebastian looks up at the doors leading into Harry Reid International Airport, and his shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. But a second later, he puts on a smile, then reaches over to squeeze my leg and says, “Help me with my bags?”
I arch a brow. He only has one bag and a carry-on, and he definitely doesn’t need my help with them. But I don’t turn down his invitation.
We both climb out of the Jeep, and I stand on the sidewalk while Sebastian grabs his stuff from the back. The heat is stifling, and even standing in the shade of the building leaves me feeling sweaty in under a minute.
People bustle around us, cars coasting into and out of the drop-off area, wheeled suitcases clattering along the cement. I can’t help but wonder if there are any eyes on us right now, any phone cameras pointed in our direction without me realizing it.
That Tribe photo is still on my mind, no matter how much I’ve tried to push it down since I saw it last night. I can’t shake the uneasiness it gave me. Even now, it clings, refusing to let me go.
Sebastian closes the Jeep’s trunk, then joins me on the sidewalk.
He’s wearing a hoodie and a ballcap, and even though I know he must be melting in this heat, he doesn’t rush our goodbye.
Instead, he puts his bags down on the sidewalk, then pulls me in, lifting me into a hug that has my tiptoes leaving the ground.
I wrap my arms around him, squeezing my eyes shut as I hug him back. For just a split second, I think of asking him if I can go too, if he’ll take me back to Cali with him so this moment between us can last just a little while longer.
But that’s me trying to live in the fantasy again, and I know better than most where the illusion ends and real life begins.
So, as he sets me back on my feet, I smile up at him and say, “Will you text me when you land?”
“I’ll call you as soon as I’m through security.” His lips curve up.
I smirk and give him an eye roll. “That’s a bit much, drummer boy.”
His smile turns into a grin. “Yeah, but you love it.”
He’s right. I really do. I love that he’s not playing games with me, isn’t trying to make me grovel and chase after him. It feels like he’s here, and it’s intoxicating.
So, instead of bantering back, I find myself rising onto my tiptoes, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him into a kiss. His fingers wrap gently around the back of my head, and he deepens the kiss, as if trying to tell me everything his lips aren’t saying.
When we pull apart, I feel that tightening in my throat again, and I have to bite my lip and blink rapidly, trying desperately not to cry. Once again, my gaze flicks across the passersby, and a few people are looking at us, but they don’t have their phones pointed in our direction.
Seb must see it, because he strokes a thumb across my cheek and says, “Are you okay?”
I nod quickly. “Yeah. Just a bit . . . paranoid, I guess.” My shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.
This makes his smile falter.
Immediately, I say, “It’s okay. I’ll get used to it, right?”
His expression shifts again, as quickly as a wispy white cloud moving away from the sun. “You’re gonna stick around, then?”
His voice sounds light, casual, but I know by now that when he says something, he means it. So I mean it too when I say softly, “Yeah. I’m gonna stick around.”
Seb lets out a small sound, like he was holding his breath waiting for my reply, and those dimples make another appearance as he grins. “Good. I was afraid you might actually be a mirage.” Stooping, he picks up his bags, slinging one effortlessly onto his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
My throat and eyes are still trying to betray me, so I just nod once and let out a quiet, “Okay.”
We both hesitate, standing there, saying nothing. But this moment has to end. We both know it.
With a flex of the muscles along his jaw, Sebastian turns, heading toward the building, the doors swishing open with a whisper. He pauses briefly to look back at me, big brown eyes catching the sun. And a second later, he’s gone.
And even though I’m surrounded by people and cars and the whip of desert wind in my ears, it somehow feels much too quiet.
Swallowing hard, I try to shake it off. I climb back into my Jeep and move out of the drop-off area, but for some reason, I find it hard to leave. So instead, I navigate to the short-term parking and take a ticket at the kiosk, not caring that it’ll cost me to sit here.
I park the Jeep in a shady spot with a perfect view of the blue sky, so I can watch the planes coming and going.
And I think about him. About the feel of his body against mine in the dark. About Cali and Malibu and the distance between the west coast and Vegas.
I think about the picture.
After wiggling my phone out of my pocket, I navigate to Tribe, then pull up the photo of us. We’re smiling, totally oblivious to the phone camera pointed in our direction as we get our toes done. My smile is wide, my eyes crinkled in the corners.
I look happy. Carefree.
I look like a woman who doesn’t need armor.
My teeth nibble at my bottom lip. I intentionally don’t scroll to the comments, and I set my profile to private last night to stop all the messages and new follows I was getting.
I don’t want to know what anyone else thinks.
I don’t want the outside world to creep in and corrupt this perfectly weird, beautiful thing that I seem to have discovered in Sebastian.
I want this little world to stay ours for as long as possible, even if that might be foolish.
He is a rock star, for fuck’s sake.
I’m still looking at the photo when my phone starts to ring, and it sends a big smile curling across my mouth.
I swipe to accept the call, and there Seb is, sitting in the waiting area, sipping an iced coffee from a plastic cup, his ballcap partially obscuring his face and the five o’clock shadow clinging to his chin.
“You actually called,” I say, shaking my head. Before him, I’ve never known a man who’s so good at following through on the things he says he’s going to do.
“Of course I did. I told you I would.” He takes another sip of coffee. “And besides, I miss you already.”
His words send a little burst of heat twirling through my belly. I think to brush him off, make a joke, try to put my walls back up in hopes of protecting myself.
But then I think of the way I look in that photo: unguarded, yet safe.
Maybe I don’t have to put my armor back on—at least, not with him.
“I miss you too,” I say.
With a boyish smile, he swishes the iced coffee around in his cup, then narrows his eyes at me curiously. “Where are you?”
My cheeks heat up. “I’m . . . still at the airport. In the short-term parking.”
A look of concern crosses his face. “Why? Is the Jeep okay?”
“The Jeep’s fine. I just . . .” I draw the word out slowly. “I wanted to watch your plane take off.”
His concerned expression slowly morphs into a beaming grin, dimples and all. “You really are a romantic. I had no idea.”
Overhead, a voice comes through the speakers, making Sebastian sit up straighter.
“That’s my plane,” he says, then grabs his bag and stands up, the camera jostling around. “I’ll wave to you from my window seat, okay?”
I find myself nodding. “Okay. I’ll watch for you.”
His eyes soften. Behind him, people are starting to line up to board.
“Bye, Rem,” he says softly.
I bite my lip. “Bye, Seb.”
THOUGH I TRIED, I COULDN’T see Seb from the little oval windows when the plane took off. But I sat there in the parking lot until his plane vanished into the clear blue sky. Then I started the Jeep and drove home.
Now, I’m sitting at my vanity, makeup brushes and eyeshadow palettes spread out around me while DeathbyRomy’s Entropy album plays softly from my bedroom speakers.
And though I’m trying to ignore it, there’s this loneliness following me around, like a shadow clinging to the corners of the room, there but quiet, only obvious when I look close.
Seb’s energy filled my condo until it felt like the walls might burst. Now, somehow, it feels empty, even with the lights on and music playing as I paint my armor on one brush stroke at a time.
I have to get my head straight. When I walk into Caliber, I walk in there as Mirage, not Remi.
But right now, putting on Mirage’s face feels like I burden I don’t want to carry.
Some nights are like this—some nights I just don’t feel like it—but this feels different.
This feels more hollow, like Seb carved out a little spot in my chest and curled up there, keeping me warm. But now he’s not there.
He’s back home. I know, because he already texted me to let me know he’d landed.
With a sigh, I finish putting on my makeup and long false lashes, then plug in my straightener. While it’s heating up, I look into the mirror and notice something dangling from under the covers on the bed.
Curious, I stand from the vanity and pad across the bedroom, then pull the covers back.
And one of Seb’s hoodies is lying there, perfectly draped across my sheets, like it was placed there on purpose for me to later find.
I pick it up and bring it to my nose, drawing in the smell of it, the smell of him.
A mix of joy and sadness goes through me.
I was with him just a few hours ago; how can it be that I miss him this much already?
I grab my phone, snap a quick selfie of me holding up the hoodie, then text it over to Seb.
You forgot something.
I go to hang the hoodie in my closet, and my phone is already pinging as I return to the bedroom.
Guess you should put it on and fly it back home to me. c
My gaze tracks over the tiny words on the screen, and then I read it again. My straightener beeps, telling me it’s warmed up, but I keep staring at the phone.
Put it on and fly it home, I think, nibbling my bottom lip.
Did Seb just ask me to come to Cali? And did he leave the hoodie here on purpose, knowing I’d text him about it?
The thought makes me warm inside, almost giddy.
Could I go to Cali? That might mean taking time off from the club, and I really need to stay focused to get Riley’s tuition covered. Maybe a quick one-day trip? But we’d be in a rush the whole time.
Dread twists around inside me.
For the first time, I feel like I’m stuck here, when where I really want to be is in his arms.
With a sigh, I put my phone down, then sit at my vanity and start straightening my hair.
I need to put Seb from my mind, at least until I finish my shift at Caliber.
Because when I’m thinking of him, I’m thinking like Remi, not like Mirage.
And I have to leave Remi at home; she’s not the one who’s going to walk through the curtain onto the main stage, adorned in glitter and heels, smiling like nothing can hurt her.
So I tell myself to get it together, and as I transform myself into the woman I have to be to do what I do, I push Remi down deep inside, where she has to stay.