“Say something,” he said quickly. “Before I turn into a puddle of liquid horror and shame.”
“You’re horrified and ashamed?” I asked, scowling.
“At my own awkwardness, yes,” he said. “I’m normally smoother than this. I would’ve taken you to the nicest restaurant I could find, held your hand over a candlelit dinner, and told you gently there. But I don’t know. There was something about this moment. I had to tell you right now.”
I looked around us. There was nothing romantically significant about this moment. We were standing outside my Nana’s empty and shuttered house. I was still grieving her loss. I was happy I wasn’t doing this by myself, grateful for Devon’s presence, and maybe that was good enough.
I leaned into his side and he put his arm around me. “I think this moment is just fine.”
“I think this is the beginning of something really good,” Devon said, rubbing my back.
“I know it is,” I said, tilting my head up to smile at him and accepting a perfect kiss.
Chapter 4
Landing in Los Angeles felt like a dream I was in danger of waking up from. I could really get used to flying private.
But walking from the tarmac leading to the terminal, Devon half turned to me and smiled grimly.
“I think you’re going to want this,” he said, handing me a baseball cap. He was already pulling on one of his own and popping a pair of sunglasses on.
“It’s not that sunny,” I said, confused as I took the hat.
“Believe me,” Devon said. “You need to put it on.”
We entered the terminal, and that’s when my LA dream turned swiftly into an LA nightmare.
There was a crush of people toting cell phones with the flashes on, blinding me and making me wish I had a pair of sunglasses to don like Devon did. Even worse than the passersby who just got a lucky glimpse of Hollywood royalty were the people who did it for a living.
Throngs of pushy men shouted rude questions, pushing enormous camera lenses in Devon’s face while others hefted heavy video cameras on their shoulders, checking behind them every so often as they backpedaled to try and catch the perfect shot.
“Where you been, Devon?” one of them barked. “Rehab?”
Devon didn’t answer. He didn’t even flinch, continuing to move through the growing crowd of people. He should’ve had security for this. Even though it was an airport, there were too many people. Someone could get hurt.
“You been in hiding after your split with Trina, Devon?” another hollered, flashes popping off in all directions. The sunglasses were a genius move. My eyes were so dazzled by the brightness that I was seeing spots. I stumbled a bit and Devon grabbed me by the hand to keep me on track.
I was noticed for the first time, connected to Devon physically but somehow much more vulnerable than before.
“Hey, who’s this?” someone shouted. “Hey, pretty girl, what’s your name?”
“She with you, Devon?”
“Of course she’s with Devon. Look! They’re holding hands.”
“You guys fucking?”
“Look over here, pretty girl!”
“He banging you, sweetheart?”
I felt like I was drowning in shouting and bodies and lights until I was suddenly in front of the gaping passenger door of a dark SUV. I jumped in, not caring whose it was, desperate to get out of there, away from the crush of humanity that was demanding answers from me. What kinds of questions were those? It was insane. I felt like I’d been stripped naked and pummeled in front of everyone—utterly violated.
When Devon climbed into the driver’s seat of the SUV, looking no worse for wear than before, I gaped at him.
“What?” he asked, putting the vehicle in drive and pulling away from the herd of people still snapping photos.
“Is that what it’s like to be you?” I asked. “Is it like that all the time?”
“They were pretty eager today,” Devon said after giving it some thought. “It’s probably because I’ve been out of sight for a while. No one’s gotten a photo since the breakup. Well, except for that fine one you snapped in the hotel room in Dallas.”
I shook my head. “Eager is how you would describe that? Devon, that was an assault.”
He patted my hand. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t want to get used to it. I hated that. Do you seriously have to deal with them all the time?”
“Not all the time,” he said. “I can sneak around a little bit, but once they get wind of me, I get followed for the majority of the outing.” He shrugged. “It’s better when it’s fans instead of paparazzi. The fans are, at least, genuinely happy to see you. Makes me feel fulfilled.”