I, on the other hand, haven’t worked up the courage to tell my parents to stop sending me job listings. That I have no intention of coming back home anytime soon, and when we get our month off after this awards show is over, I’ll be spending most of my time sleeping or with Mason. Or sleeping with Mason. If this conversation and the seriousness in Mason’s eyes is anything to go by, I’m pretty sure his plan is to spend as much time together as possible during that break too. We haven’t discussed it, because we rarely talk about anything more than a day or two in the future. But from his reaction to even considering taking a fake date to an event for publicity purposes, I’m reasonably certain that he considers us a couple, rather than just friends who fuck.
He tips my chin up with one hand and brushes a kiss across my lips. “I don’t want anyone but you,” he says softly, and the words wrap themselves around me like a fuzzy blanket, comforting and warm.
“I don’t want anyone but you either,” I whisper back.
“Good.” He smiles. “I’d like it if you came with me as my date to that show, but I understand if that kind of scrutiny is too much for you right now. But if they ask if I’m seeing anyone, I’m going to say yes. You’re not my dirty little secret, Viola. And I don’t want to be yours.”
“Okay,” I whisper. Because what else is there to say? I don’t want to be his dirty little secret either, so I’m good with that.
He pulls me in for another kiss, this one hotter, hungrier, but still too short, and he cuts it off with a groan. Nudging me to my feet, he stands and adjusts himself shamelessly, his eyes twinkling. “I’m afraid the food will be gone if we don’t get back for dinner. Plus, we both know that the concerts with Beckett have even more meet and greets, so we won’t even have time for a pre-show quickie.” He gives me an exaggerated pout, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me close. “But we’ll definitely finish that in my room tonight.”
After one more hard kiss, we head for the door. It’s usually Mason who’s complaining to me about how he can’t wait to get the night over with so he can get me back to his room. But as I stumble after him to dinner in the greenroom, I relate more than ever.
In a rare moment of downtime, I manage to corner Blaire while the opening act is performing. “Hey,” I whisper to her. “Can I talk to you?”
She gives me a quizzical look but follows me down a hallway away from the main stage where we can talk more easily. Since that email and my conversation with Mason, I’ve been all twisted up about what to do, and Blaire’s the only person who has any real perspective on this situation. Plus, I know her the best and feel most comfortable divulging all my insecurities to her.
A few techs dressed all in black saunter past as I pull Blaire into a corner, and I wait for them to turn another corner before launching into a quick explanation of what happened earlier.
Understanding dawns on her face. “I wondered why you two disappeared. I mean, I know Mason likes to indulge himself before a show, but he usually waits till after dinner. And he doesn’t make that much of a spectacle of it.”
My cheeks heat. “Right. That’s not why we left. We needed to talk. That’s all.”
Her blue eyes study me as she stands with her arms crossed. “What are you gonna do?”
Lifting my hands in a gesture of helplessness, I let them fall back to my sides. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m talking to you. I want you to tell me what I should do.”
She’s already shaking her head before I finish talking. “Nah-uh. That’s not how this works.” She points her finger at me and waggles it back and forth. “I’m no longer responsible for helping those guys clean up their love lives. After Marcus meddling in mine, although it worked out for the best, I saw how annoying it really is.” She holds up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m out.”
Pushing down the zing of fear and … something else at her use of the L word, I clasp my hands together in front of me. “Please, Blaire. You’re the only one who can help me out here. You know this life. You know what it’s like. You’re dating a rock star, for god’s sake. And you know me and what I’m like. If you don’t want to tell me what to do, fine, but at least help me figure it out. Should I show up as his date? Is that smart, given that I’m also the band’s assistant? Practical considerations of doing my job and being his date aside, how bad will the media feeding frenzy be? Is it better to just lay low and keep things between us for now?”
She opens her mouth to respond but closes it without saying anything, her gaze abstracting as she actually takes the time to think about my questions instead of just blowing me off. Finally.
I force myself to take deep breaths while she contemplates her answer. After what feels like hours but is probably less than thirty seconds, she shakes her head slowly. “I dunno, Viola. It’s a tough call, and you’re the only one who can decide the best choice. You should talk to Mason more about it. About how
