Page 60 of Spotlight Hearts

I like this.

I like walking with him. I like the way he leans into me when the breeze picks up. I like the way his fingers tighten around mine.

I like him.

A lot.

More than I probably should this soon.

My phone vibrates in my pocket—once, twice, then a steady stream. I don’t have to look to know who it is.

Whitney. She’s the only one that sends rapid fire texts. A photo of Kai and me has probably hit the internet from today.

Over thirty messages now. I haven’t opened any of them since before our last show. Every time the screen lights up with her name, my stomach twists. I know I need to deal with it. I know I owe her a real conversation. But right now, with Kai’s hand in mine and the sunset painting the sky behind us, I can’t bring myself to do it.

I shove the phone deeper into my pocket and ignore it.

Head in the sand. Like an ostrich. If I don’t look, maybe it’ll go away. Maybe the guilt will stay quiet for one more night.

Kai glances at me, eyebrow raised. “Everything okay?”

I squeeze his hand and pull him closer, wrapping my free arm around his waist as we walk.

“Yeah,” I say, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Everything’s perfect right here.”

He relaxes against me, head resting on my shoulder for a moment as we keep walking along the wet sand.

The paps click away in the distance. I don’t care. Let them take their pictures. Let them sell the fantasy. Because for the first time, the fantasy doesn’t feel fake.

It feels like the only real thing I’ve had in a long time.

And I’m not ready to let it go.

Not tonight.

Not yet.

The sky has gone deep indigo by the time we make it back to the villa. The sunset walk is done—hands held, shoulders brushing, a soft kiss at the water’s edge for the cameras. The paps got their shots. Harry will be happy. The fans will scream.

But the second the villa door closes behind us, the performance ends.

Kai lets out a long breath and rolls his shoulders, the tension from being “on” slowly melting away. He turns to me with a small, tired smile.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he says. “Wash the sand off.”

I nod, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his temple. “Take your time. I’ll be out here.”

He disappears into the bedroom, and a moment later I hear the shower turn on—the distant rush of water.

I stand alone on the deck for a minute, listening to the ocean, letting the warm night air brush over my skin. My phone feels heavy in my pocket. I’ve been ignoring it all day, but the unread notifications have been burning a hole in my mind.

I pull it out.

Thirty-seven new messages from Whitney.

All from the last few hours.

I open the thread and scroll.