“On what tonight was.” He lets out a dry, tired laugh. “It’s times like this I really hate being so well-known. Can’t even kiss someone without it turning into a press release.”
“I can’t even imagine.”
He glances at me. “Surely you’ve experienced some of it being Sam’s sister?”
I nod slowly, the familiar ache settling in my chest. “Only once. In college. Thought I met the one.”
Nash stays quiet, listening.
“He was everything I thought I wanted—smart, charming, intense in that bookish ‘I write poems about heartbreak and existentialism’ kind of way.” I smile without humor. “Turns out all he wanted was backstage access to Sam. The VIP life.”
Nash winces. “Ouch.”
I shrug, like I’ve moved on. Like it didn’t shatter me. “I was young. Stupid. Romantic. In denial. Kind of made me afraid to get back on the horse, so to speak.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “Okay. Here’s one. Met this girl a few months ago, thought we had something real. She was sweet, funny, flirty. Thought she actually saw me.”
I look at him. “What happened?”
He exhales. “Turns out she was trying to land a deal with one of my sponsors. Said dating me would boost her exposure.”
“Ouch. Did it work?”
His mouth pulls into a bitter half-smile. “Sadly, it did.”
We stand in that quiet for a while until he sighs.
“Guess I should head out.”
He doesn’t try to kiss me, and that’s fine.
“I’ll text in the morning,” he says. “Maybe we can get brunch.”
“I’d like that.”
I wait until he’s gone and then unlock the door. And walk straight into Will.
He’s standing just inside, jaw tight, arms crossed, eyes sharp and dark.
Andpissed.
11
I barely get the door shut behind me before Will’s voice cuts through the silence like a blade.
“So that’s what we’re doing now?”
I freeze, fingers still curled around the handle. “Excuse me?”
He steps closer, arms crossed tight over his chest, jaw clenched so hard it looks like it hurts. “Kissing some man you just met today. Dancing with him like you’ve known him forever.”
My heart stumbles. “How do you?—?”
His jaw tics. “You think it didn’t make the rounds? Photos. Videos. I saw all of it. Hell, anyone with a phone and a pulse saw it.”
Heat rises up my neck, burning. “We went out. It was one date. That doesn’t give you the right?—”
His laugh is sharp. “The right? Jesus, Phern. You’re out there playing rodeo princess with a guy who’ll forget your name by next week.”
