the next break. “Tell me about your show.”
Annie’s face transforms. Any angst disappears, replaced by anticipation and genuine delight. “It’s a fantasy story about a girl born without a heart, but she doesn’t want anyone to know. So, she goes on a quest to get one—not because she wants to feel, but because she’s worried her body will give out without it. And on the way, she meets all these people, including this guy who makes her realize she wants to feel after all.”
I’m sucked in already. She’s always had the power to fascinate me, to take my world and wrap it around her, like that towel by the pool, so she’s at its center.
“And you’ll star in it.”
She shivers, her eyes sparkling in the dark. “I want that more than anything.”
I want to press her, but she’s scanning the room.
A number of people have their phones out, but the cameras aren’t pointed at me.
“This show will make for some great clips,” she says absently.
“They’re at a concert and they’re not even watching.”
“They’re involving people in their experience. It takes two seconds. No wonder you drive your marketing people crazy. Give me your phone.”
I unlock it and hold it out.
“Now put an arm around me and look at the stage.”
“You Annie Leibovitz all of a sudden?”
But I do as she asks, pulling her against me.
Instantly my body’s on alert. She’s slow curves and I want to drag the hem of that shirt up and trail my fingers along her skin. Turn my face into her neck and lose myself in her rose scent.
“Broody enough for your brand?” she teases, holding the screen out.
The image is a kick in the gut.
In it, Annie’s looking at the camera, though in the darkness, it’s hard to recognize her.
I’m watching the music like I’m distracted—by it or the girl in my arms, it’s impossible to tell—but it’s tense and natural at once, as if she’s part of me, an extension of me.
I want to back that photo up, to save it. To preserve it somehow so I never lose it, or her.
“Marketing’s gonna come in their pants,” I say at last.
As I tuck the phone away—I’ll post the pic when I get back to the hotel, because otherwise, we’ll get swarmed—more than a few pairs of eyes are on us.
It’s understandable. We might not be dating, but she’s still fucking awesome. She’s got the same wonder at the world, plus a confidence that’s new. It’s fascinating, and sexy.
“It’s late,” she says when the show wraps up and the patrons stream toward the doors. “I shouldn’t have stayed out so long. Sophie’s already not sleeping. I don’t want to wake her up.”
A warning flashes through my brain, one I promptly ignore thanks to the concert or her closeness or the fact that it feels as if we’re the only people in the world despite the rest of the giddy crowd dispersing to the parking lot.
“My hotel’s close. You can crash. I have to be at the studio early tomorrow anyway.”
She doesn’t answer, and when I clue into why, my abs tightening as the shitty reality comes back to me.
Not only is she not mine, she belongs to someone else.
“If it’s the boyfriend you’re worried about, I promise I won’t touch you.”
“Ian and I broke up.”
If she didn’t have my attention before, she does now. “What?” I glance back toward the building. “That time you went to the bathroom an hour ago?”
She waves a hand. “We ended it last month.”
“And you didn’t tell me about it yesterday because…”
Annie shakes her head. “Because it didn’t matter.”
I don’t believe her.
It’s not my business, but it feels as if it is. The concern I felt for her, the irritation and contempt towards this faceless guy is still there, but it’s competing with something I’ve been ignoring.
The pull I’ve always felt when she’s around.
Knowing she was with someone made it easier not to stare at her too long, to think about what used to be.
“Do you still have your bike?” she asks as she shifts inside the rental car.
“Yeah. It’s in LA.”
Annie shakes her head as she reaches for the seatbelt. “I always imagined you taking me on it.”
Adrenaline surges through me.
“I imagined taking you on it too.”
The way my voice drops leaves no question as to what I’m imagining.
Her hands freeze on the seatbelt, those full lips parting.
I force my attention out the windshield before she can reply, but as I pull out of the parking lot, it’s all