Chapter Nine. Riley
Chapter Nine
Riley
I think I must have had one glass of wine too many last night.
Because it felt like Luna was flirting with me at the pool, and I know that’s not possible.
Not only is she mega-famous and therefore out of my league, she’s presumably straight and has a string of ex-boyfriends to prove it.
Even if Hudson is about to be the subject of her next breakup album, that doesn’t change anything.
As far as I know, Luna was just cozying up to me because I’m one of the only people her age on this tour and we’ve become friends.
Yet despite all the logical arguments I keep telling myself, I still have a nagging feeling in my gut that maybe she was flirting with me. Maybe she’s bi. Maybe she dumped Hudson in the last day. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking and she was just drunk and worried about my cut.
When I go downstairs to the kitchen, I’m relieved to see it’s full of people.
Being alone with Luna feels precarious right now, because even though I know I’m being delusional, I can’t help but feel like there’s some sort of vibe happening between us.
But I need to nip it in the bud so Ashley doesn’t fire me from this tour, and it’ll be easier to do that when I see that Luna acts the way she does with me with everyone else too.
I drop into a chair next to Rhia and Anya, who immediately both turn to me. “Riley, I dreamt about that dinner last night, literally,” Rhia says. “It was iconic. Can you be my chef?”
Anya nods in agreement. “When’s the restaurant opening?”
I flush. “I’m glad everyone liked it. It was a fun one to make. I like incorporating the local flavors and having a theme and all that.”
“Are you doing that at every stop?” Rhia asks, eyes wide. She whistles. “Luna is a lucky girl!”
My blush deepens and I reach for a cup of coffee to sip on to try to hide it.
I know Rhia’s just talking about my cooking.
I cook for Luna, so this conversation is totally innocuous.
But after last night I’m having trouble keeping my daydreams in check.
I’m starting to wish there could be something more between Luna and me, and hearing Rhia say things like that make me wish she were talking about more than me just cooking for Luna.
It’s ridiculous. I need to stop thinking like this and focus on the work at hand, to earn my spot on the next leg of the tour.
Ashley has arranged for catering while we’re on break here the next two days, and so there’s a spread of Spanish tapas on the table and twenty cups of café con leche rapidly growing cold.
I’m only hired to cook for Luna during rehearsal and performance days, and it’s nice to be able to take a break today.
As much as I love cooking and had fun crafting that off-contract group meal, I think I’m going to be feeling preparing fifteen octopuses for the rest of the day.
“Late night?” Ashley asks from across the table as I take a second coffee.
I look up, suddenly wide awake. Why do I feel guilty?
Rhia and Anya seem unfazed by Ashley, but I still feel pressure to prove myself to her.
“The outdoor kitchen is spotless,” she elaborates.
“The cleaning crew could’ve dealt with it today. ”
I smile, relieved. “I cooked seafood. It would be rude to leave it stinking up the pool all night. It’s really no problem. I was happy to cook for everyone.”
Ashley gives the tiniest nod, approving. “It was fantastic. Better than any group dinner we’ve done at a restaurant.”
I blush, pleased, as everyone else chimes in, agreeing. Before I can thank them, Luna arrives in the kitchen. “How’s your hand?” she asks immediately, walking directly to me to take it and inspect it herself.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I say quickly, pulling it out of her grasp as I feel everyone’s eyes on us. Out of the corner of my peripheral vision I see Ashley’s lips press into a tight line of disapproval. “Like I said, hazards of the trade.”
Luna must be able to tell I don’t want to talk about it now, because she leaves it, but I catch her looking at me several times while everyone eats breakfast. As people start to peel off to enjoy the pool or rest, Ashley taps her glass to get everyone’s attention.
“Just a reminder that I booked a wine-and-tapas tour of Andalusia for this afternoon. I booked the full tour, so it’ll only be our group, but it’s of course totally optional.
I personally will be having a bath and a nap, but the van leaves here at noon if you’d like to go. It lasts about six hours.”
An hour later I’m in a linen shorts and button-down set, waiting in the air-conditioned foyer for the van to show up. I text the chat Rhia, Anya, and James added me to—aptly named Eat, Dance, Love Euro Summer. Anyone coming on the tour?
Rhia: lol no way, sleeping thanks
James: Anya and I are at the pool, come chillllll
The van pulls up exactly on time, and I’m torn.
I do want to take advantage of being abroad and see more of the area, and a food-and-wine tour is exactly my idea of a great day.
But maybe it’d be better to stay here and get to know everyone else better.
Just as I’m about to turn around and run upstairs to change into my bathing suit, I hear footsteps behind me.
“Wait for me!” Luna says as she runs to the door.
“I wouldn’t have left without you,” I say immediately.
What am I saying? I didn’t even know she wanted to come.
I was about to leave. I can’t help but stare at her as we walk outside and are hit by a wave of thick heat.
She’s wearing a lacy two-piece set and the top is somehow defying every law of physics to remain covering her as she moves around.
I’m used to seeing her in either sweats or leggings while she’s prepping for the show, or in her full-sequined bodysuits or gowns onstage.
This may be my first time seeing her in normal clothes, although on second thought, these can hardly be described as normal, because as I look closer I see the triangle of the Prada logo woven into the lace at the center of the top.
The skirt sits low on her waist, below her belly button, in a style that only looks good on people like her who are tall with amazing abs.
Her stomach is bare, and then the tiniest top clings to her chest for coverage, while the back is totally open.
Somehow it almost looks more revealing than her bikini did yesterday.
Her hair isn’t styled and I love seeing it natural like this.
It’s curly and a bit frizzy, and I now know that every other time I’ve seen her hair, it was either blown out, curled, or both.
She looks around as we rush into the air-conditioned van. “Where’s everyone else?”
“I think it’s just us. If it doesn’t make sense to go with only two people, I totally understand. I’m just as happy hanging here.”
“I think just us is the perfect group,” Luna says definitively, and I’m flooded with relief. Because even though I’m telling myself it doesn’t mean anything when she says it, that her words are totally innocuous … I’m also secretly happy it’s just us.
We wait five minutes after the departure time in case anyone is running late, and then we head out.
The tour guide is clearly extremely knowledgeable, and from the front seat she tells us about the route we’ll be taking through Córdoba, Ronda, Málaga, and Sevilla, then dives right into the history of Córdoba.
Even though we have the entire van to ourselves, we sit on opposite sides of the same row, not close enough that we jostle together and touch during the sharp turns, but close enough that I’m hyperaware of everything Luna does.
Every time she reapplies her lipstick or glances to see whether I’m paying attention or brushes her hair behind her ear, I can’t help but notice.
She’s magnetic, and I would be content to sit in this van all day if it meant I could stay next to her.
But eventually we arrive in the heart of Córdoba, our first stop, and as we walk to the restaurant, Luna’s phone rings with a call from Ashley.
“I have big news,” I hear Ashley say on the other end.
I start to walk away, to give Luna her privacy, when she reaches out and grabs my hand.
I wait, silently, unsure whether to look at her or pretend not to listen.
I blush furiously, caught between the two.
I don’t know how to act around her. “It’s not announced yet … but you’re nominated for two Grammys!”
Luna gasps and claps a hand over her mouth, then looks up at me, eyes shining.
Oh my god! I mouth to her.
“Which ones? Fuck, which ones? I can’t believe it!”
“Best New Artist, that’s the big one. That is the rest of your career, Luna. And you deserve it more than anyone else on that stage.”
“I can’t believe it,” Luna breathes. She’s grinning from ear to ear, and I am so happy for her. “What’s the other one?”
“Luna, it’s Song of the Year.”
“Wait, but which song?” In the pause that follows Luna’s question, I see the moment that she realizes she already knows.
I feel like I’m watching her heart splinter in live time.
Before I can think better of it, I start rubbing her back, and she turns in toward me.
I wrap my arm around her waist and rub her bare side.
I hope this is calming, not weird. I’m hyperaware of every inch of her exposed skin, and I feel like I shouldn’t be touching her like this.
She’s famous. She’s my boss. This crush is almost surely one-sided.
But she keeps leaning on me, so I don’t let go even as my stomach twists itself into knots.
“It’s ‘You and Me,’ with Hudson. I know it’s not what you hoped. I know it complicates things. Just … don’t say anything to him for now. Not until we’ve strategized.”