47
ALEX
“Holy shit!”
We pull up curbside at Gravity,and it’s mayhem. Paparazzi swarm like hornets, cameras raised, stocked and loaded. I glance out the tinted window at the crowd gathered in front of the club. It’s easily twice the size of the mob that camped outside my apartment.
Flashes explode against the windows, lighting up our limo like the Fourth of July. I instinctively turn away, shielding my eyes from the storm of lights.
The scandal surrounding my so-calledhomewreckingdays seems to have cooled off. Now, it’s all about Elijah and me. And the media, along with half of the world, apparently can’t get enough.
The glass divider slides down, and Steven’s face comes into view.
“I just spoke with Fernando,” he says calmly. “He’s waiting at the entrance. Wait until I open the door. As soon as it swings,drop your heads and follow security. Don’t stop. Don’t talk. Just walk. Got it?”
We both nod, but something about it doesn’t sit right with me. I’veneverbeen one to ignore my fans. And now that the media is working in my favor again, I’m excited to interact with them again. Even if the attention is more about my personal life than my modeling career. Honestly? I’ll take what I can get.
“Stay by my side,” Elijah says, just before the door swings open. He steps out first, then leans back in, reaching for my hand. “Ready, baby?”
I’m so fucking ready.
I grip his hand and step out into the chaos.
A hailstorm of flashes hits us instantly. Blinding, relentless. Fans scream from every direction, shouting my name, waving signs, holding up phones. Security has us boxed in tight, with barely enough room to move, but we press forward.
It doesn’t stop the questions though. Not even close.
“Alex, who are you wearing tonight?”
“Elijah, have you proposed yet?”
“Alex, how long have you known you were gay?”
“Elijah, will you be traveling internationally with Alex?”
“When is the wedding?”comes a voice louder than the rest.
“Elijah, how does Gabriel feel about your relationship with Alex?”
“Alex, will you be removing your Grindr profile?”
Elijah’s eyes go wide. He stiffens, his steps stuttering just a little bit.
I nearly double over laughing.
It’s such a ridiculous question. I’veneverhad aGrindraccount, and he knows it. He’s playing it up for the crowd, pretending to be scandalized. The little shit.
We’re awkwardly squeezing through the sea of bodies, almost tripping over each other, when I tug on his hand and yell, “Stop!”
“Keep moving, Alex. We’re almost there.”
“Wait. Just—stop.”
Security slams into us from behind as I dig in my heels, refusing to move. They’re shouting at us to keep walking, to stick to the plan, but I’m not budging.
“Elijah, I can’t do this.” I turn to face him, dead serious. “These are my fans. Iadorethem. I don’t ignore them.”
He glances over his shoulder at the crowd. “And the paparazzi?”
