Chapter Six
Jonathan
I hate that I can’t go into Gabby’s dorm and get her. But because I already can’t go anywhere without people accosting me—and not just photographers anymore—it’s faster to wait in the car. I’d probably cause a riot if I went into the sophomore women’s dorm. So many of the girls her age were fans of Brash back in the day. If the fans I’ve met are any indication, most of them are fans again. Or still?
The thing that isn’t a question is how much I can’t wait to see Gabby.
Which is why I’m sitting here in the back of this nondescript gray sedan waiting for Colt to go get her. He grumbled about being my chauffeur. And now my gopher. But I don’t care at all.
No one recognizes him anymore. He was such a baby when his picture was everywhere. At eighteen, on the other side of puberty, he looks nothing like he did as a little boy. He has this hipster vibe that he’s cultivated, the polar opposite of the clean-cut image we had a few years ago. His hair is longer and darker, his jaw stronger, and he’s grown some scruff on this trip already.
The door to the dorm opens, and she steps out, holding it for Colt, who’s dragging her purple suitcase behind him. She laughs at something he says, her head going back, her hair flowing in the breeze. She pulls a few strands away from her mouth, a smile still playing over her lips as they make their way to the car.
I can’t help it. I can’t wait any longer to have her in my arms. Popping the door open, I climb out of the back seat, my eyes never leaving her for a second.
Her head comes up, and her eyes widen when she sees me, her smile getting bigger. She runs toward me, throwing herself at me with all her usual enthusiasm. With a laugh, I catch her against me. The force of her body colliding with mine knocks me against the car, but I don’t care.
All that matters is that she’s here, in my arms. Our lips fuse together, and the world falls away. Her hair forms a curtain around us and her arms twine around my neck. I lose myself in her taste, her scent, her soft curves pressing into me. These are my universe. The only things I need.
It’s not until Colt clears his throat that we break apart, Gabby pulling away first. I lower her feet to the ground, a smile plastered across my face. I’m so happy to be with her again, and I don’t give a damn who knows it.
Gabby’s smile matches my own, and Colt rolls his eyes at me, shaking his head as though we’re pathetic. He just doesn’t get it. I would’ve acted the same way a little over a year ago, so I can’t blame him.
I climb into the car and scoot over so I don’t have to let go of her, moving in as far as the middle seat. Colt loads her suitcase in the trunk before climbing into the driver’s seat. He meets my eye in the rearview mirror. “Where to next, sir?”
“Home, James,” I deadpan back. He rolls his eyes again, but a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.
Gabby’s buckled in, but she snuggles into my side as much as possible. “Where is home for the weekend?”
“The Davenport.”
Her eyes widen a little. “Ooh. Fancy. A suite?”
I shake my head. “Not this time. But we will have our own room. And everyone says their beds are the best.”
Colt snorts in the front seat, and I resist the urge to smack him upside the head. I don’t need him making dirty jokes about my girlfriend. But he starts the car and navigates his way out of campus, heading for downtown. Ignoring him, I rub Gabby’s leg. “I like these leggings.”
With a wicked smile, she leans in close and nuzzles my ear before whispering, “That’s because you know what I’m not wearing underneath.”
I respond with a low sound that’s a combination of growl and groan. Because she’s not wearing anything under her leggings. She never does.
But she’s not done. “Lauren told me to wear them because she says you never take your eyes off my ass when I wear them.” Even though she’s speaking barely above a whisper, I can hear the note of triumph in her voice.
“Lauren noticed that, did she?”
Gabby nods, her eyes twinkling. “She actually said you stared at my ass no matter what, but it seems you do it more when I wear leggings. Which I pointed out is funny, since I always have a long top or a short dress over them, so you can’t even see my ass.” Her hand runs up my thigh, perilously close to being indecent, and her gaze flickers to Colt in the front seat. “But I think it’s because you like using your imagination.” One eyebrow arches up, the smile never leaving her pink lips. She gives my thigh a squeeze, her fingers deliberately brushing against the obvious bulge in my jeans before retreating.
“I’ve been using my imagination a lot lately,” I whisper back, and her fists clench convulsively.
“Have you? Me too.”
“Would you like to know what I’ve been imagining?”
She shifts, leaning against me even more, her hand back on my leg, but not going above mid thigh. “I would.” She glances at Colt again. “But I don’t think your little brother does. And even though he’s pretending to ignore us, he pays attention. So we should probably hold off on that until we’re in your room.”
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you, Gabby.” Colt’s voice sounds unnaturally loud compared to our whispering.
Gabby bites her lip to cover her smile, and I pull her head close so I can whisper in her ear again. “We need a limo. With a privacy divider. And a driver who’s not my brother.”
“I agree,” says Colt. “I told you to get a driver this time, but nooo. You insisted I had to do it. That’s why you’re paying me, after all. That’s what you said.”
With her face buried in my shoulder, Gabby starts cracking up. She’s trying to stifle it in the fabric of my shirt, but it’s not working very well. Colt remains stone-faced, and it takes everything in me to try to do the same. Despite my best efforts, a small smile cracks my facade.
“I told you, Colt. I needed someone who’d blend in this time. A limo pulling up to Gabby’s dorm with a uniformed driver would be too ostentatious. Too obvious. The point is to avoid unnecessary attention. And a gray sedan driven by a college-aged guy is the perfect cover.”
His eyes meet mine, more gray today than blue. “Uh-huh. How many times do you think this’ll actually work?”
I shrug. “I don’t think we’ll get that much of a chance to try it out. It’s not like I’ll be in Spokane every weekend.”
That’s enough to kill Gabby’s laughter and sends a spike of pain through my chest. I wish I could be in Spokane every weekend. Some part of me wishes I could scrap the tour. Say fuck it and move back to Spokane.
But even if I did, even if there wouldn’t be legal and professional fallout from such a move, I couldn’t get away with hiding in plain sight again. I’ve become a household name. Already. Who would’ve guessed so many old fans would come out of the woodwork? I mean, yeah, that video went viral last year. But it’s been almost a year since then.
All of Brash’s old fans are grown ups with credit cards now, and there’s a whole new crop of teenagers behind them. I already have an official fan club. And the VIP tickets at my shows sell out in minutes. The tour manager has been consulting with Colt about adding more options, more slots, and hiking the prices in an effort to keep the pictures and signings to reasonable lengths of time.
Reasonable. Ha.
Nothing about any of this is reasonable.
Fame itself is unreasonable. And unpredictable.
And giving it all up for Gabby, even though I’d gladly give up parts of it, I wouldn’t be happy doing that either. Because there’s too much I’d miss.
When I look over at her, her brown eyes are wide and a little sad, but she gives me a closed-mouth smile. I lean over and kiss her, a soft press of our lips together. And I breathe out a sigh of relief. Because that simple contact is enough to calm the storm of emotions inside me.
This weekend will pass far too quickly. And October will feel like an eternity away at the end of it.
But for now, I can be happy. Because I’m with Gabby.