Chapter Five
Gabby
Friday drags and drags. My World History professor finally wraps up the Most Boring Lecture Ever™, and I shove my textbook and notebook into my bag, edging my way through the rows of desks and people loitering between them, rather than waiting patiently like I normally do.
Jonathan is getting into town this afternoon for his show at the festival on Sunday. Colt called me last week with details on the VIP and backstage passes for Lauren and I. I was surprised to hear from him, but he was friendly and joked around with me about how I probably would rather talk to his brother, but I’d have to accept him as a substitute. “But, you know, only about planning. I’m definitely not trying to sub in anywhere else.” A stark contrast to his mom’s disapproval of our relationship.
The door to Lauren’s room in our suite is open when I get back. I drop my backpack next to my desk. She pokes her head out her door, shoving her auburn hair out of her face. “Have you looked at the weather? Our passes are good for the whole weekend right? What are you wearing?”
With a laugh at her rapid-fire questions, I answer them in order of what’s easiest. “Yes, our passes are good for the whole weekend. Except the backstage pass is only for Jonathan’s show. But you can go to the whole Tinnabulation Festival if you want.”
She drops the shirt in her hand and looks at me. “What do you mean if I want? Aren’t you coming too?”
“Well, for some of it. I think Jonathan wants to go to one show tonight, but we’re not staying the whole time.”
“I thought we were riding together.”
Picking up the shirt off her floor, I hang it back up in her closet. “Relax, Lauren. I’ll ride with you there. But I’ll be staying with Jonathan while he’s here. So I’m packing my suitcase.”
Her eyes rake over my jeans and T-shirt. “You better get moving then. I want to get there for the concerts.” She turns back to her closet, trying to decide what to wear to an outdoor concert in September. Riverfront Park is right downtown, but the proximity of the river and all the grass makes it a little cooler there. And even though the days are still warm, the evenings get chilly, and the sun goes down by seven. “Maybe I can pick up my own hot rockstar while we’re there.”
“I’ll let Jonathan know you’re on the prowl,” I call over my shoulder as I head to my own room. Jonathan won’t care if I’m wearing my boring jeans and T-shirt. I want to dress up anyway. Make an effort. We haven’t seen each other in person in almost a month. But when I start going through my closet, I’m not happy with any of the options. “Lauren, what are you going to wear?”
“Hang on!”
I slide hangers back and forth. Most of my dressier tops are sleeveless or sheer. And black. I have tons of black, a side effect of playing in orchestras. I look good in black, but sometimes it’s nice to wear colors.
Lauren comes in wearing dark blue skinny jeans, knee-high black boots, and a dark green off-the-shoulder sweater that plays up her auburn hair, which she’s left loose. “You called?”
“Wow, Lauren. You look amazing.”
She does a little turn. “Thank you. Now what can I do for you?”
Letting my arms flop uselessly, I whine, “I don’t know what to wear.”
She laughs. “I wondered if this would happen.” Her eyes narrow, and she steps up to my closet, bumping me out of the way with her hip. She mutters to herself as she quickly slides through everything I own. “Leggings,” she declares. “Wear black leggings. He can’t take his eyes off your ass when you do.”
“But I usually wear a tunic or something over leggings.”
Lauren grins at me. “I know. But he still stares at your ass nonstop every time you wear leggings.” She strokes her chin like she’s stroking a beard—she calls it her existential beard—her brows coming together. “Actually, now that I think about it, he pretty much stares at your ass nonstop no matter what.” She waves a hand. “Whatever. Wear leggings anyway. They’re comfortable and not too hot but enough to keep your legs from freezing when the sun goes down. And …” She pulls a long light pink tank out. “This. With your sweater that you wore forever last fall until we bought you a jacket. And your red, sparkly flats.”
“My Dorothy shoes?”
She smiles. “There’s no place like home. But really, it’s the perfect blend of sexy and cute, and that’s important when you’re on the arm of the next big star. People will be taking your picture even more now. You need to dress the part.”
My eyes get big. “I hadn’t even thought about that. Shit, Lauren. Now I’m extra worried about what to wear. Do you think they’ll take pictures of me when he’s not around? They’ve mostly left me alone so far, but his fame is already exploding. Once they see us together more often …”
With a sympathetic smile, Lauren hands me the top she’s still holding. I take it with nerveless fingers. “I think I need a stylist. I’ve never cared that much about clothes. I mean, I like to look nice and cute, but I haven’t needed to worry about looking stylish like you see celebrities in magazines and stuff. You’ve seen those tabloid covers at the supermarket. They’re horrible to women who don’t dress the right way. I haven’t thought about any of this before.”
Lauren pats my hand. “Calm down, Gabby. I’ll help you out. I did last year when you wanted to dress up for him. I’ll do it now. You can borrow anything of mine you need. And get your boyfriend to take you shopping. Or give you his credit card and go to Nordstrom’s and go crazy. I’ll help you.”
I give her a sour look. “I’m not going to beg my boyfriend to buy me a new wardrobe.”
She shrugs and crosses her arms. “Why not? I would if I had a rich and famous boyfriend.”
“He’s not rich and famous.”
“He will be soon.”
I stand and dig my nicest leggings out of my drawer. “Fine. Still. I’m not going to do that.”
“Okay. We can go to TJ Maxx instead. Make your money go further. But we’ll get you some outfits you can wear when you’re with him.” She heads for the door. “Come out when you’re dressed, and I’ll do your makeup.”
While I’m changing, my phone buzzes with a text alert from Jonathan. I’m here. And I’m coming to pick you up. I don’t want to wait to see you.
The fluttering in my stomach now is entirely excitement to see him, all worries and fears about wardrobe and makeup and paparazzi interest falling away with the reality of him being here. With me. Today.
Dragging my suitcase out from under my bed, I start tossing in clothes, not really caring what I’m packing. If I need something, I can come back. Or go shopping. Or make Colt go shopping for me. I giggle at that. I like Colt fine, but I can’t see him doing that, even if his brother tries to make him. He’d probably get something horrible just to prove a point. So maybe not. But I’ll figure something out.
Maybe I should just be myself. It’s good enough for Jonathan. What do I care if people take my picture that way? They have before, and I didn’t get raked over the coals. Why should now be any different?
Still, I try to pack a few options that look classy and sexy instead of screaming tired college student. I add in a couple pairs of skinny jeans, an extra pair of leggings, and sneakers, and I think I’m good. I just need to get my bathroom stuff together, but I’ll let Lauren do my makeup first.
She’s reading at her desk when I come out, but closes the book. “Alright, do you want subtle and fresh or sexy and smoky?”
“Oh, um. I think subtle and fresh. Jonathan’s coming to get me soon, and I want to be able to fix up whatever makeup I have on.”
“Mmhmmm. I understand completely.” She steps away from her desk chair and pats the back. “Come sit. Let me make you stunning. Then go take his breath away.”