Page 67 of Knot Their Starlet

“You’re okay, Andi, I’ve got you,” he says, flashing me that blinding smile.

The sight of his face calms me. It was the last face I saw that night before passing out. I think that the primal part of my brain understands that Beck is safe. He saved me that night. And he’s saving me right now.

“Th—thanks,” I stutter. “The—the pictures of this—the headlines will be crazy.”

“Let them talk,” Beck answers. “I’ll stay like this as long as you need. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

As I do the breathing exercises all omegas are taught as soon as we go into pre-awakening, Beck’s scent seems to wrap itself around me in a wave of comfort.

“I—I’m ready,” I nod.

Beck’s hands fall away from my face, one resting on my waist and the other waving to the crowd of rabid paparazzi, going even crazier after our interaction.

“Everything okay?” Leo asks, coming up beside us.

“Yup, everything’s good now,” I say, turning towards Beck before I let my expression melt into a smile. “All thanks to Beck.”

Leo looks uncertain, but continues doing his job, helping Beck and I past the crowd of screaming paparazzi and into the restaurant. Even Elijah looks uncertain, but I focus on not tripping and keeping a pleasant smile on my face.

“Mr. Knight! Is this a date?”

“Beckham! Is this confirmation that you and Andromeda Sterling are together?”

“How long has this been going on for?”

The questions are thrown at us from all directions.

“Andromeda! Any commentary on your ex? Do you believe you have anything to do with him going to rehab?”

Beck’s steps falter at the question aimed at me.

I squeeze his hand, urging him forward, but he stops in his tracks, offering the hungry paparazzi a blinding smile.

“Excuse me, guys, but Andi and I have a reservation we need to make.” He tugs me closer to him, his gaze softening as he looks down at me.

The crowd seems to divide into two factions, one of which is satisfied with Beck’s comment and the use of my nickname, and the other hungrier for more.

When we finally make it into the restaurant, my shoulders feel like they’re carrying a million pounds. The restaurant is so dim that it takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust after the crazy flashes from the cameras.

I practically collapse into the curved booth, the high backs providing greatly needed privacy.

Leo and Elijah offer us passing nods as they’re led to their own booth, diagonally across from ours in the narrow aisles.

“Hey, good job out there,” Beck says, rubbing circles along my back. I’m so stressed my brain barely processes the touch.

“Don’t bullshit me,” I mumble, my eyes still closed. I swear, those flashes imprinted themselves on the backs of my eyelids.

Beck’s touch climbs my back until he’s massaging the tense muscles of my neck. Only then do I finally start to relax.

“Does that happen often?”

“What, me freaking out like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Not like that. Not in public, at least.” I shake my head, trying to swallow past the thick lump in my throat. “Sometimes I’ll freak out after a fight with my mom, but not... like that. Normally, it’s just crying.”

Beck’s jaw works as if the idea of me crying doesn’t sit well with him.