Page 56 of Dirty Like Seth
I headed over and Seth met me partway. I’d told Joanie and Flynn to hang back, but let Flynn know he could have words with the photographer if he overstayed his welcome. It was really more of a courtesy mention; Flynn would do exactly that whether I asked him to ornot.
Joanie settled in on the patio as we went down to the beach. Flynn stayed back near the rocky path as Seth and I headed out onto the pale, crescent-shaped beach in our bare feet, paparazzo at our heels. I didn’t even look at the man; I didn’t want to meethim.
Once we reached the water, Seth followed my lead into the rippling surf. There were a few other people on the sand, but they were pretty far away, on the other side of the crescent. We stood in the water facing one another, the waves lapping our ankles. Seth’s pants were getting wet. He didn’t seem to care. He was wearing those white pants again… and it occurred to me that I was wearing a whitedress.
Great choice. Now it probably looked like Seth and I were getting married on thebeach.
Technically the dress was off-white, and it was only knee-length, a pretty, flowy, backless sundress. But I wouldn’t put it past the paparazzi to print whatever they damn well wantedto.
“Can’t wait to see what the caption on this one is,” I said, all sarcasm. Mainly because I was nervous. And not exactly about the photos being published. I really didn’t care much aboutthat.
A long, long time ago, a very wise man—my dad—told me,As long as they put my little girl’s picture in there and get her name right, it doesn’t really matter what they say about her in thearticle.
In other words, any publicity is goodpublicity.
And while I could argue that point, given what I’d been through in the media, at the end of the day my dad was right. People were going to say what they were going to say, publish what they were going to publish, and believe what they were going to believe. There wasn’t a hell of a lot, in the end, that I could do aboutit.
But that never made me nervous anymore. It hadn’t in a longtime.
Somewhere around Jesse breaking up with me, I’d pretty much given up on caring what the world at large thought about me. That kind of heartbreak had to be recovered from in private, and I’d learned to tune out the voices of theworld.
Had to, if I was going to surviveit.
But this…thismade me nervous, for some reason. Standing here with Seth. So close toSeth.
He was looking at me, and that made me more nervous. I could feel it, even though I could only sort of see his eyes through his shades. But he was inches from myface.
I glanced over at the photographer, who was standing on the sand, just out of the water. He’d started taking pictures as we stood here, awkwardly. Together, nottogether.
At least, I feltawkward.
Seth seemed perfectly atease.
“Maybe we should just start going at it,” he said, and I looked up into his face again. He was smiling a little, the dimple appearing in his cheek. “You know, start making out. They’re gonna say itanyway.”
I laughed, but it was a weirdly nervous sound, and I hugged myself like I was cold, when Iwasn’t.
Seth’s smile faded, the dimple disappearing. “I’m kidding,Elle.”
“I know.” He was just trying to lighten the mood, to help me relax. I knew that. But I didn’t look him in theeye.
“I’ll tell him to leave if you want me to,” hesaid.
“Thankyou.”
But after the photographer had taken a few more shots, I let my armsdrop.
Then I reached out… and took hold of Seth’shands.
He letme.
We acted like we were just hanging out, standing in the surf together, gazing out across the beach. But then I found myself, instead, looking straight down the barrel of that camera lens. Facing it, head-on. Because who the hell werethey, to judgeme?
To judgeus?
The media… The band…Anyof them. They had no right to judge, and I sure as hell didn’t owe anyone an explanation for myactions.
Or an explanation for however I felt about SethBrothers.
