Page 28 of Love on the Tracks
I’d like to take her hand, ask her if she’s all right. Get her to open up to me if she’s not. I can only imagine the pressure she’s under, what with two of the biggest minutes of her life coming tomorrow, and then two more two days after that. But I can’t, because we’re sitting across the table from each other, and her hands are in her lap, probably with her fingers wringing over the napkin.
So I nudge her foot under the table. “Rowan?”
She looks up, startled, and then a brief, nervous smile flashes over her face. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Do you want to go? We don’t have to be here.”
I know that’s the whole point; is to put ourselves on display to be photographed and pointed at, to build up some buzz for the both of us, but the times I’ve most enjoyed with Rowan haven’t been in the spotlight, and not only because a bunch of those non-spotlight times have been naked. No—I like her. Which is a bad idea, but I can have this for myself for another week, right? Then back to life as usual.
“Really?” Her green eyes are brimming with hope, and some of the tension winding inside me relaxes. This is a problem I can solve.
“Yeah, really. I mean, everyone’s already seen us here. That was the point, right?”
She nods, and looks around, flinching when the flashbulbs behind the plate glass window of the restaurant go off again—the place is mobbed with paparazzi and regular people alike. All of whom want to see us drinking beers and eating breadsticks.
“We need to play it right. If we don’t look super into each other when we leave, they’re going to frame it as our fling being over. However, if we look like we’re, you know, all googly-eyed—” I do my best impression of someone stupidly in love, and Rowan laughs like I hoped she would. “Then the headlines will say we’re so into each other, we couldn’t wait to get through dinner before heading back to my hotel. Think you can do that? Look like you’re into me?”
She bites the corner of her lip and looks up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. You’re one of the most famous musicians in the world and really hot, so it might be difficult. But I’m a professional. I think I can handle it.”
In that moment, I can picture sitting around with the guys and Rowan, all drinking beers and ragging on each other. Well, Rowan would be drinking water as always, but she’d be in there with the best of them talking smack. As soon as she got over her star-struckness, which, given how things have progressed between us, shouldn’t take all that long.
The image is comfortable. Which shouldn’t sound thrilling, but one of the less great things about being a household name is that being yourself, unguarded, gets to be a luxury—one that being with Rowan affords me.
“Then let’s get out of here.”
I flag down our waiter for the check and shove a far-too-large bill in it before handing it back and telling him to keep the change. Then I go to Rowan’s side of the table to offer her my hand, and head us toward the coat check. Once we’re all bundled up, we venture out into the cold night air, doing our best to look like a crazy-in-love couple for the cameras as the flashes go off.
Rowan
My stomach’s been in knots all day, and the prospect of eating was . . . well let’s just say it wasn’t going to happen. Not in some fancy-ass restaurant anyway, with food I’ve never tasted before, surrounded by people I don’t know but who all seem to know me.
It’s one of the worst things about competition: when I most want to be home, surrounded by everything familiar, I have to be away and out in the world, besieged by strangeness. “Besieged” is the right word for how it felt to walk out of that restaurant with Zane. I hope my panicked clinging to him reads as us not being able to get enough of each other instead of what it actually was: a doubling down on my already-loaded nerves.
But here we are, back in his hotel suite. I’m supposed to be in bed early tonight because the first day of runs is tomorrow. Two of the four minutes that could change my life. The SIGs are a weird format, double the runs we usually do, and it messes with some people. Consistency, handling the pressure, and stamina—that’s the name of the game here. Sometimes at one of the other competitions, you can get away with one stellar run and one not-so-stellar and still place, but with four runs, it’s more important—and harder—to maintain focus.
“Rowan?”
Zane’s looking at me like maybe this isn’t the first time he’s said my name.
“Sorry.”
“No worries. I know you have a lot on your mind. Something I can do to help?”
If only. The truth is, despite how much I’m enjoying this whirlwind fake courtship, it mostly adds to the pressure bearing down on me. Also, it’s never been an issue before; it’s not something I’ve learned to fit into my normal competition routine, which generally consists of spending time with my team and my dad.
On the other hand, being with Zane is a good distraction—because hey, hi, hello, gorgeous and fairly charming pop star—so maybe I should take advantage of that. I could ask for sex, but right now I’m wound too tight to enjoy it. But I’d like to. So maybe some unconventional foreplay first. There is one fantasy I’ve had about Zane Rivera over and over, and this seems like a good opportunity to make that fantasy come true.
“Will you teach me how to play the guitar?”
He blinks, and tilts his head, his perfectly mussed hair flopping even more perfectly. “You want me to teach you to play guitar?”
I shrug, feeling juvenile for asking. I’m with one of the most attractive men on earth and instead of getting naked, I’m asking him to teach me to play an instrument I’ve never touched, an encounter that will no doubt make me look very, very stupid?
Stick to sliding, Andrews.
“Uh, yeah. I’ve always thought it would be cool, but I’ve never had time to take lessons. I wouldn’t even know where to start. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. It’s not a big deal. I guess it’s like asking a chef to cook for you after-hours in a restaurant kitchen or seeking medical advice from a doctor when you’re not their patient. Which is—”
“Row. Stop talking. I would be happy to teach you a little something.”
