Page 11 of Carte

I looked up into his cognac colored eyes. He was bent over, his body shielding mine. He was so close I was positive I could feel his heart beating, and mine instantly adopted the rhythm of his.

God, he was beautiful. Like grass right after the rain.

I quickly banished the thought, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from his. It felt like he could see every inch of me. I wished he would let me do the same.

Clearing my throat, I leaned a bit back, just to get away from temptation, and murmured, “Always.”

The lie came so easily, but the moment it slipped from my lips, I knew I disappointed him.

Not because I wasn’t okay, but because I lied to him.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t call me on it. He simply nodded his head, stood up, and went back to surveying the crowd.

Ten minutes later, I was still a fidgeting mess. The air was sticky; my mouth felt dry, but I couldn’t get myself to drink something. My skin itched, and I was constantly looking over my shoulder. I’d had enough of this. I stood abruptly, pushing the table between the couches, making everyone look up at me.

“Going to the bathroom.” I threw my thumb over my shoulder and mumbled, but I was sure no one heard a word of what I said. Partially thanks to music, and partly because they went back to their fun, making matches for the night.

I walked quickly, craving the sanctuary of a private bathroom and the escape it provided. It was clear to me the night was a bust. The normalcy I wanted was not going to come, and instead I became a jumpy mess. All thanks to Carter.

I could kick him in the shin just for ruining my night. Hell, for ruining the tour for me.

“He’s going to hear me,” I grumbled to myself, determined to save the rest of the tour. If he didn’t get back in line, I was going to get Tim to either replace him, or better yet, forget this whole fiasco of a crazed fan, or whatever was happening, ditch this whole idea of a bodyguard and let me be free. “Tim too,” I grumbled again, remembering he was on my shit list too.

“Harley.” Someone called out to me.

I stopped and turned, expecting to see a manager of the club or someone like that. They usually hung around whenever I came into their joint to make sure I had everything I needed, and occasionally, they could be a little overbearing. Like now, when I needed a minute in the bathroom just for myself.

But it wasn’t a manager wearing a suit who called my name.

The man stood at the mouth of a dimly lit hallway. He looked thirty, maybe a little older. Not my usual age group. His blonde hair was damp and combed back. He had a T-shirt under a blazer. The guy looked like a teacher that was trying too hard to be cool.

“I knew you’d come.” The excitement in his voice was unmistakable.

His smile was a little too wide. Something was off about the man. I didn’t say anything, just gave him a shoulder shrug coupled with a small, non-committal smile, and turned around.

But he kept talking. “I told everyone you would be here. They said you’re too famous now. To come to The Castle, I mean. That you came here before you hit big. But not now. Not now when everyone knows you.”

Every nerve fiber in my body vibrated. I was rooted to the spot, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get my legs to move.

He started moving then, and all I did was turn around to face him fully again.

“But I said no. I know how Harley is. Harley remembers where she belongs. Harley will never forget her roots.”

He came to stand in front of me, a wide smile on his face, his eyes going up and down my body. There was something seriously wrong about him. He seemed over-hyped. The corners of his mouth trembled, his whole body vibrated, and there was a feverish gleam in his eyes.

“You’re really here,” he whispered fervently.

My hands started shaking, but I squared my shoulders with fake bravado, and said, “Yeah, but please don’t blow my cover.”

He looked at me for a beat, then threw his head back and laughed. The sound of it scraped my skin. I was positive if I looked down I would see tiny scratch marks bleeding.

It was then I finally took a step back. “It was good to meet you, but now I gotta…” I indicated the door of the bathroom and took one more step.

He took it with me.

I reached for the door, but he was quicker, his movements felt almost fluid. He stood between the door and me, a wide smile still on his mouth, and a weird glint in his grey eyes. He was close, too close.

“Can I get a picture?” Before I could answer, he waved his hand between us. “No, wait. No pictures. You want to have privacy tonight. Right? Right.”