“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
11
Kennedy
I couldn’t remember ever being so tired.
Lila and Dex were sitting across from us quietly talking, and Hunter had blinked out a nanosecond after we took off. Damn seasoned traveler. I’d conditioned myself to do micro-naps on flights, but I couldn’t seem to settle enough to drop off.
We’d been living in a very nice little bubble for the last few days. This was the first time we’d actually be out and about in a couple capacity. (as a couple?)
People already thought we were an item, but there’d been no sign of us together for the last few weeks. The promotional mini tour had been the focus of Hammered’s social blasts in the trades, Facebook, Twitter, and every other digital outlet.
As someone who made a living using the ins and outs of social media, I still couldn’t pinpoint why certain people blew up the internet, and why others were ignored. Just when I’d thought Hunter and his Manaconda treatment was fading from the public eye, a new onslaught of memes had taken Instagram by storm.
The third run from Rolling Stone should have glutted the market, but I still found copies going for obscene amounts on auction sites, especially signed ones. Hunter was learning to curb his growls when people shoved the magazine into his hands for a signature.
I only hoped he’d continue to do so when we got to New York. There’d be a mob outside of The Tonight Show. Between people waiting for tours, celebrity sightings, and to get inside for the taping, it was usually a mess.
Giving up any semblance of propriety, I lifted the arm between our seats, and Hunter’s much heavier one, and snuggled in against his chest. His steady heartbeat, and low grumble of my name dissolved some of my tension.
The captain called for the attendants to prepare for landing just as I’d dozed off. At least it felt like it. So I wasn’t exactly at my best when we were making our way down to the tarmac.
We’d landed at a small airport outside the city, but someone had gotten wind of the flight manifest. There was a sizable group of people waiting behind a corded off area. Keys, Owen, and Zach headed right for the crowd. Cameras and phones were out.
I recognized a few of the paparazzi in the crowd. Hunter caught my hand in a tight grip. “You’re not going anywhere without me, Kenny.”
“Of course I’m not.”
He grinned down at me. “Damn right.”
The photographers raced around the corded off area. Hunter slipped on sunglasses, but gave the paparazzi a sexy, effortless smile. He made a bee-line for the crowd and signed everything they put in front of him.
Wyatt lifted a twelve year old girl that was nearly trampled and posed with her and her mother in a goofy picture. He also ended up in a heap of fans with an Instagram selfie for Wyatt’s account. His arm was long enough to get quite a few people into the picture.
There were a few rude comments tossed around from the paparazzi looking for juicy footage. I looked around for Reed, but spotted him escaping with Lila and Dex into the waiting limo.
For the most part Hunter ignored them, but I could feel his tension rising with each shouted comment about why he and Reed were fighting. I’d been out of the loop with them on a personal level, and Hunter wasn’t exactly the oversharing type when it came to his relationship with Reed lately.
A flash of white in my periphery made me turn.
“What?” Hunter asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Just too many people, I guess.”
“Yeah. I hear that.” He held up his hand. “Okay guys, one shot for my Instagram and we’re out, all right?”
There was a chorus of boos, but they were mostly good natured. He turned his back on the crowd and lifted his phone. Right before he took the picture, he spun me into him, his arm banding around my middle.
The shot was perfectly candid and sweet, with a side of fan frenzy. Then he took another shot of the crowd itself. “Who’s coming to Jimmy Fallon tonight?”
There was a chorus of groans and a few yesses.
“Tell ya what, we’ll put our rehearsal on our YouTube. How’s that sound?”
There were cheers and a lot of phones came out of pockets. That was big news.
“Indie will kill us,” Wyatt muttered.
“I’ll take the heat,” Hunter answered.
“It’s a damn good plan,” I said to no one in particular.
Hunter beamed. “See? Good plan.”
“Speaking as a PR person.”
“Of course,” Wyatt said.
I shrugged. “Go get that buzz. And look, you didn’t even have to punch someone.”
“Har-har,” Hunter said. He slung his arm around my neck. “Ready for phase two of the madness.”