I step in front of Karoline as a few people begin shouting my name. “Karoline,” I whisper over my shoulder. “Paparazzi are here. I’m going to shrug my coat off, and I want you to put it on and tuck your face down. There is a pair of glasses in the pocket. Put them on. Do you have a ponytail holder?”
“N-no,” she stammers. She remains pressed against my back as I slide my jacket off and hand it to her behind my back.
After she tells me she has the coat and sunglasses on, I pull the ponytail holder from my own hair. “Here. Put your hair up in this. I promise I’ll keep you hidden from the vultures.”
The flashes and noises grow closer, but thankfully, they are only coming in front of me and not behind us. I spin around so that I am face to face with Karoline.
“You stay in front of me, tucked into my side. I don’t care if they see me, but I don’t want them equating the woman on my arm to you. If we announce ourselves as a couple one day, it will be on our terms. Not theirs.”
We begin walking, but Karoline is steadily tripping over her feet in her cloaked haste. “What do you mean by announcing ourselves as a couple? Mason! We are not a couple!”
“Not yet.” I smirk, though I doubt she can see me by the way she is doing an accurate impression of the Hunchback of Notre Dame at the moment.
“Do you not understand what I said to you back at the theater? Did you not catch the word friendship a moment ago?”
“I understand everything, Karoline, except for why you continue to fight the feelings you have for me when I’ve shown you that I am all for you and only you over the past few weeks. And I’m sorry that I’m not just going to cave and walk away when the love of my life is worth fighting for.”
When Karoline stumbles again, grabbing my arm to steady herself, I sigh. “Just remember that what I’m about to do is for your own good. You’re a hazard unto yourself right now trying to outrun the paparazzi in your nervous condition. Come here.”
I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder, careful to hold her dress down over her thighs. Now the paparazzi definitely won’t see her face, and well, I'll have some interesting rumors circulating about me in about an hour.
Like the Princess Fiona character I know her to be, she bangs on my back like I’m Shrek, all the while yelling, “Put me down, you insufferable man!”
A chuckle escapes me, and I tap her bottom.
She stills, and then roars, “Mason Jonathan Kane! Did you just touch my butt?”
Karoline
“A tap for a slap. Are you done beating my back or do I need to give you a little love nudge again?” Mason has the audacity to continue laughing as I bounce up and down on his shoulder, the flashing cameras still illuminating our way back to his truck in the theater parking lot.
I’m wrapped in his jacket, which smells a lot like bad decisions and retribution. Okay, actually it’s a musky scent that reminds me of the morning dew of a woodsy forest, but basically the same thing.
Because the fact that I haven’t fought my way off this man’s shoulder is indeed a deliciously wrong choice.
Sure, I banged on his back, but that was mainly to feel the muscles underneath the thin layer of shirt. If I truly wanted off, I would be off, and that is why I hate myself right now.
“No. No more love nudges or whatever you just called that monstrous action. Don’t touch the butt…”
“Oh, but I like touching the butt…” The tease in his voice is a dangerous toxin meant to seduce me to his whims. No, sir. Not tonight.
“Then go swim with Nemo! This one is off limits.”
He laughs again but respects my wishes. At my request, he turns me around to carry me bridal style so that his shoulder is no longer jamming into my stomach, and I don’t think I want to ever leave his arms. I tuck my head into his chest and let the rhythm of his gait soothe my heightened nerves as the yelling and flashing chaos ensues behind us. His arms are my safe cocoon.
We reach his truck as the paparazzi swarm us. What started as a few ended up being at least ten, snapping pictures and hollering things at Mason like, “who’s the girl” and “look at me” the entire time. He ignores them, taking special care to make sure I’m covered and shielded from their cameras.
At his careful and intentional actions, my heart swells with gratitude. It’s not that I’m against the spotlight. If Mason and Iweretogether—not that we will be or anything—I think I could handle it if he protected me like this. But I definitely don’t want to be on the front page of a tabloid where I’d be labeled as Mason’s fling or one-night-stand or whatever else they would come up with.
Maybe they are tracking us because Masoniswith a girl… someone other than his friend Genevieve. From all my social stalking, Mason was never portrayed as a bad boy or player in the newspapers.
He may have dated around in high school and college, but the man in this truck with me now is not the one I used to know…
He cranks the truck and the engine roars, scattering the hive of busy bees who ruined my night with Mason. He peels out of the parking lot, leaving the group eating his dust. I silently cheer our victory and narrow escape.
“That was…”
“Fun,” I finish as I meet his gaze. He smiles and shifts his eyes back to the road in front of us.
