“Thank you.” I glance down at his body and notice he’s not dressed yet. “Are you going like that?”
“In a hoodie?” He gestures to his body with a smirk. “God, no. Fay would have my head.” He pushes past my body and rifles through his things. “I just need to change real quick. Give me one second.”
I watch him disappear into the bathroom, and when the door closes, I’m suddenly unsure of what to do with myself with him so near. I sit on the edge of my bed and wait.
“How do I look?” he asks, walking out and flinching when the door slams behind him.
To die foris an understatement.
Wearing an oversize black tee, paired with black jeans. Tall and lean, a jawline so perfect that angels would cry. His lips full, curled with a smirk. Light eyes—warm, thoughtful, comforting, and a little playful. Thick, tousled light-brown hair, the kind you want to run your hands through, framing his face.
He is so beautiful.
I shrug, teasing him. “Decent.”
I’m sure he saw his brain by how hard he rolled his eyes at me.
“Are you flustered?”
When he leans down, his face millimeters from my own, I smell his musky cologne, and my eyes almost roll.Oh God.His handsome face is still smirking when I say nothing.
Laughing softly, he extends his elbow out to me. “Let’s go, Miss Mute. We have an album release party to attend.”
“Times Three, look over here!”
“You all look amazing. Smile for a picture!”
“Who’s the new girl?”
“Elijah, you’re the sexiest man alive!”
“Times Three, are you excited for the tour?”
I hold back a yelp when Elijah drags me to his side and places his palm in front of my eyes, shielding all the bright lights from flashing in my face. “Don’t linger. Keep walking.” His lips brush my ear, and goose bumps form on every inch of my skin from the unexpected contact.
“Who is the girl, Elijah? Tell us. The fans will want to know!”
I want to turn back and scream at them to mind their own business, but that wouldn’t be a good look. I keep my mouth shut and trust Elijah as he leads me through the thick crowd since he’s covering my face from the paparazzi.
“Elijah, just one picture!”
If his hand wasn’t holding my waist in an iron grip, I wouldn’t have noticed the tremble in his fingers.
“Almost there.”
I’m not sure if he says that more for himself or me, but his husky voice almost melts me into a puddle.
“There we go. We made it.”
The yells of at least a hundred paparazzi grow distant as the club’s door shuts, giving us privacy that I didn’t have for two minutes.
How do they deal with that? I became overwhelmed by this one experience.
“Someone, get this girl a drink. She just experienced her first paparazzi rush,” Trinity calls out like a boss, walking farther into the bustling club.
People greet her and Leonidas from left and right.
Elijah ignores the few people that rush over to him to say hello.
