Page 30 of Kind of Famous
With that in mind, I walked softly through the living room and waited to get outside before I said another word.
Chapter Eight
Out on the steps, lit only by the sconce by the door, the magical sense of normalcy returned. The soft stillness transported me to the Indiana suburbs. I used to spend nights just like this, riding bikes or rollerskating down the sidewalk in the silence of spring moonlight, loving how the only sound in the world was theclack-clack-clackof my wheels over the cracks. There was a familiar comfort in the dark.
Shane skipped down the steps, then slowed until I caught up. We made our way down the quiet street side by side. Sort of.
He lurched away from me and back, like he had too much energy for a slow walk and needed to avoid the straight line from A to B. It put me in mind of a bouncy kid running in circles while a parent plodded forward. I had no intention of rushing. I was too curious about this guy I’d never been curious enough about before.
“That was lovely,” I said, by way of small talk.
“Mmm-hmm. They’re great people.”
As we passed by other houses on the row, my mind kept returning to the larger-than-life rock star whose home I’d been invited into as if I were simply one of his friends. What was life like for Adam in his regular environment? Did his neighbors all know him? Could he walk down the street without being harassed or did he keep to himself mostly?
“You’re awfully quiet.” Shane’s gait had settled into a leisurely stroll, his hands jammed in his pockets, his Converse sneakers gliding along.
“Just processing.”
“You’re an introvert, aren’t you?”
Was I? I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, self-conscious of his attention. “I’m not really used to being around people. Especially not famous people. It’s a lot to take in.”
“It is. I can’t speak to being around people in general, but you’ll get used to Adam and Eden. They’re not arrogant about the fame, but they’re realistic.”
“Realistic? You mean, like how they straight up asked me if my mind was blown?”
“Imagine that they have to deal with that reaction from every single new person they meet.” He shook his head. “Micah, too. It could make anyone get a swelled ego. They work hard to keep things normal at all times.”
“What about you?” I elbowed him. “Don’t you have to deal with it?”
“Me?” He chuckled. “I have to show my ID when we go to our own afterparties.”
I burst out laughing at the image of that. “You’re joking.”
“Sort of.” He gently tugged on my arm. “We need to cross here.”
He steered me toward a side street then let go. Hoping I hadn’t misread his cues, I wrapped my hand around his upper arm, part of the way, anyway. His bicep was huge and rock hard. At my touch, his shoulders hunched up a little, and he inched closer to me.
“So, what do you do in your spare time? Do you have any hobbies?”
Without meaning to, he’d lobbed a grenade. I evaded it. “I love to read.”
“And listen to music, right?”
I made a valiant effort to duck that bomb. “Yes. I love music.”
“You never said who your favorite band is.”
“Who’s yours?” Another bullet dodged.
“Can I say my own band?” He raised one eyebrow at me. He looked so cute, I nearly stumbled.
With my eyes sharp for any actual land mines ahead of me, I flexed my atrophied flirting muscle. “That would be rather arrogant, don’t you think? How about your favorite band you have no friends in?”
At a busy intersection, Shane rested his weight against the light post, his face lit by the Starbucks. “You’ve eliminated a large number of current bands, so I’ll have to go back in history.”
“That sounds fair.”
