Avery shoves the man gripping my arm, sending him sprawling to the ground and breaking his hold on me.
Murmurs ripple around us, echoes of the same words I’ve heard too many times, always aimed at Avery.
"That temper’s going to end his career."
"He doesn’t belong here."
"She must be just as reckless if she’s with him."
I block them out, focus on staying upright, and ignore the burn in my heels.
"Are you okay?" he asks, pulling me so close that my chest collides with his.
My vision clears, and all I see is the tall, broody,concernedface of Avery Jones, coming to my rescue.
Again.
Only this time, it’s welcomed.
His soft brown skin, his sapphire blue eyes, and his full lips. I just want him to whisk me away like a knight in shining armour.
My hand rests firmly on his rock-hard chest, his haunting eyes looking deep into mine, and everything around me goes silent.
Still.
Like there’s nobody else in the vicinity, and I just want him to take away the fear.
"Are you okay?" he asks again, his voice coarse and desperate for an answer. I nod, and he lowers his forehead against mine. "Good. Don’t let go of my hand again tonight. Not around these people. When you’rewith me, you’re setting yourself up for—"
"I’m alright, Avery. I promise." Dragging my hand down his chest, I make sure to feel every single rise and fall of sculpted muscle in his stomach, before threading my fingers through his. "I won’t let go."
"Good," he whispers, lifting his forehead off mine before turning back to where we were only moments ago.
I’m not an idiot. I heard the camera’s clicking just as much as I saw the lights flashing behind the haze. I know he’s doing whateverthat wasto make this thing look real to everybody else, but it still feels nice to be protected in a way that I’ve never needed before.
"Jones! Olive! Over here," the voices call our names again, but with my hand locked firmly in his, I know the panic trying to climb its way out of my throat isn’t necessary. Still, I move closer as he leads the way down from the red carpet.
There is not one face I recognize tonight. Nobody at all that is familiar to me, but I do my best to smile, put on a front, and let the photographers do their jobs.
They snap pictures of a happy, loved-up Olive Herring and Avery Jones.
We’ve been on this red carpet, posing for pictures for the last twenty minutes, and if it felt like my feet were going to fall off before, now it feels like they no longer exist.
My head is pounding, my eyes feel like they’re being clawed out of their sockets, and the pulses are hovering over every inch of me.
It’s almost suffocating.
You’re doing this for your career.
He dips his head to my neck, his voice a quiet whisper in my ear. "You okay?"
The same question he had asked me before, only this time with a different meaning.
"Just a little anxious," I reply as honestly, and as confidently as I can, but I fear even though he doesn’t know me, he can see right through the façade.
His eyes search mine for a long moment, then every inch of my face, before eventually trailing over my trembling body. He squeezes my hand a little tighter.
"Eyes on me, okay? I’ve got you." And that’s all he has to say to get me to trust him. To believe, without a shadow of a doubt that tonight, he’ll give me a reason to not feel nervous or stressed, anxious or overwhelmed, or fucking terrified for my life.
