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Chapter Sixteen

AURORA

D on’t ask because I don’t know where the kneeling thing came from. The last thing I want is to hear his opinion on it. I know he’s going to get it all twisted and jump to the conclusion that I want to blow him. That’s definitely not the case. It was just something that felt like it would sell the angle we’re going for.

After the PPV, there’s a press conference. Things are even more hectic backstage. Producers are collecting the talent who’s going to be featured. I’m not important enough to deal with all of that yet, but Theo is. So, thankfully, I don’t have to hear him lament about me on my knees.

I seek out Jules. Unsurprisingly, she’s with Hext. The two of them are off in a corner together and I make a mental note to ask later about what’s going on between the two of them. Hext is her mentor, I get that, but it’s pretty obvious that something else is bubbling under the surface.

I never took Jules as the homewrecker type. I’m not one to judge but…okay, so I’ll judge a little bit if she’s hopping on a married ma n’s dick.

“Are you okay?” I ask Hext as I approach.

He shoots me this lopsided grin, and yeah, I get what Jules would see in him. He’s the type of man who only got hotter as he aged. Young Hext was nothing compared to this older version. “Five by five, Red.”

The confusion must be obvious on my face, because Jules laughs. “It means he’s good. Hex is a very big Buffy fan.”

‘Understanding him on that level is doing nothing for the homewrecker rumors,’ is what I want to tell her. Instead, I look back at Hext. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

He’s still grinning as he responds. “No one ever does.”

Jules clicks her tongue. “So that kneel. Rory, what the fuck was that? I mean it was hot as hell.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. It’s the last thing I want to talk about, but I know that’s what everyone’s going to be focused on. “It…it felt like a good way to hammer home the point,” I mutter.

“The way that Theo touched you definitely made it better. I think you two really struck gold with that.”

Is that what I want to be known for? Kneeling in front of Theo? But I remind myself that this is just my gimmick for now. It's my breakthrough into a main spot. I can prove what I can do—that I can stand out and put in the work. Lemons into lemonade. Nathan’s not going to make me stick with it for long.

“Are you hungry?” Hext asks, pushing off the wall. “Jules and I were going to hit up a diner or something—get a quick meal before we crash. Wanna join?”

I genuinely consider it. Food sounds amazing right now, but bed sounds better. I want to call Janet and see if Dad managed to stay awake through the whole thing and if he got to see me, but it’s late. She’s not going to answer. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning and call before my flight home.

“I’m tired. I’ll pass. We can get food after the next show, yeah?”

“It’s a date.” Jules grins .

We hug and I promise to get the dress back to her after I wash it. She waves me off, telling me that I don’t need to worry about that. Hext waves at me, and then I leave for the night.

The hotel that the talent is put up in is very swanky. Since it’s late, the lobby is pretty vacant. White tiles surround a blue and beige carpeted seating area. The chairs are all either dusty blue or beige with end tables near them. There’s a gorgeous chandelier above the sitting area that reminds me of a dandelion puff with different lights coming off of it. I walk past the poor night receptionist who looks bored out of her mind and press the up button on the elevator.

It dings open and I wheel my bag in behind me. Before the doors can swing close and I can get closer to being embraced by the not-quite-soft enough hotel sheets, Austin slides into the elevator with me.

I don’t really know Austin Slater. He hangs around backstage, but he’s not booked often unless it’s to lose. He has blond hair that he slicks back with a boatload of gel, and his skin is a little too tan. He’s tall and built. He’s like your quintessential California surfer-dude-turned-wrestler. Austin smiles at me, his teeth blindingly white against his tanned skin.

“Good night, yeah?” he asks with a grin.

I nod, not quite in the mood for a conversation. The siren call of my bed is getting stronger. “Yeah, pretty good night.”

“You looked amazing out there. That dress was gorgeous.”

It feels like he’s trying to flirt, and I don’t want him to. I always say that I don’t have a type, and while I don’t have a very deep romantic past, the few guys I’ve dated haven’t all fallen under one category. It’s all about vibes, right? With that said, Austin is not my type.

There’s something about him that I don’t feel like I’m vibing with. Or maybe I’m not giving him enough of a chance. I should be gentler with him.

“Thank you,” I say, looking down at my shoes.

Before either of us can utter another word, another body enters the elevator. I’m overwhelmed by the scent of a familiar cologne and a presence that I can sense like some phantom is watching me.

“This is cozy,” Theo says as he wheels his bag into the elevator. He forces his body between mine and Austin’s, standing between us like he’s chaperoning the eighth-grade dance. “Austin, give Roo a break. It’s been a long night.” I cringe at the nickname. Theo isn’t fazed. “So, what floor is everyone on?”

“Four,” I say, not making eye contact. We just work together. I don’t have to like him. We’re not buddies. This elevator ride doesn’t need awkward small talk.

“Same,” Austin answers.

“Mm, I don’t think that’s right, Slater. If I recall, you’re on the fifth floor with me.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m on the fourth floor. My room number is four hundred twenty—”

“—Fifth floor it is,” Theo says as he presses the numbered buttons. Floors four and five light up with a faint yellow light.

It’s the most uncomfortable elevator ride of my life. The door chimes open on the fourth floor, and I breathe a sigh of relief at my chance for escape. “Goodnight,” I say politely to the two men before I wheel my bag out and head toward my room.

And then I realize that I’m not walking alone. The cologne signals the presence of my own personal demon that’s hellbent on terrorizing me. Closing my eyes, I stop walking and take the deepest breath that I can.

“This is the fourth floor. Did you forget how to count—or read, Theo?” I ask.

I don’t even have to see his face to know that he has that annoying shit-eating grin on his lips .

“I’m escorting you to your room, Roo,” he says matter-of-factly. “It’s late. There’s no telling what sort of creeps are roaming the hallways of this hotel. Can’t have anything happening to my partner.”

I suck in a breath. “The only creep roaming the hallways is you, Theo.”

“Better the creep you know than the one you don’t, huh?”

It’s late. I’m tired. I don’t want to stand in the hallway and argue with Theo. I want to crawl into my bed and not think about him for a few hours. I groan, hoping he sees the displeasure painted on my face.

“ Fine ,” I say through gritted teeth. “Walk me to my room, Theo.”

It’s a three-minute walk max. I can handle him for three minutes.

Suddenly, I feel a warm, calloused hand sliding over mine. My eyebrows raise in shock, confused; I do not want to hold his hand. I’m not going to hold his hand. But all he does is gently pry my bag from my hand. “Let me get that for you.”

“I don’t know if I like you when you’re trying to be nice.”

“You don’t like me at all, Roo.”

Most people would probably sound a little bitter when saying that. Not him. He sounds accepting of the fact. It’s like he’s stating something everyone knows. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Aurora Bennet does not like Theodore Abrams.

I tilt my head to the side, agreeing. “Fair.”

I would be perfectly content walking in silence. My room is right ahead of us. Theo has other plans.

He clears his throat. “You were amazing tonight,” he says. Something sounds different in his voice. Normally, Theo’s loud. He could be heard down a hallway; he also speaks quickly. Now, it’s softer, the accent that I can’t quite place comes out a little more obvious. He lives in New York, but it sounds more west coast, like Jules.

I wait for the backhanded compliment.

And nothing comes. So, I momentarily concede my dislike for him and let a smile appear on my lips. “Thank you.” I hate how much his stupid compliment means to me. I like knowing he thinks I did well. I tell myself it’s because I want to feel like I did a good job on my first big moment, and obviously my partner who’s been doing this for a while and is at the top of his game, complimenting that is a good thing.

“Also, I gotta say it—that kneeling bit? Instant boner.”

And there it is. The expected comment from Theo. “Not my intention,” I say as I roll my eyes.

“Doesn’t matter if it was your intention or not, baby doll. It was hot. Face it, you’re hot.”

That’s never been anything that I’ve doubted. I’ve never thought I wasn’t pretty. I’m not insecure. I don’t think I’m the hottest woman in the world, but I also don’t shy away from my sexuality. Unless that sexuality involves Theo. I don’t respond, choosing to click my tongue instead. My room is right there. I come to a stop by the door, fishing in the pocket of my sweats for the key.

Theo wheels my bag to a stop by the door, waiting for me to wrangle the key out of my pocket.

“You’re not coming in.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

The look I give him portrays my disbelief. Theo always comes off as entitled. I’m sure he was expecting me to drop to my knees for him the second he started to wheel my bag behind him. I get the key and press it to the little lockbox. It lights up green, the door unlocking with a soft click.

“No, seriously. I’m a lot of things, Roo. I’m the biggest asshole that I know, but I’m not going to force myself into your room.” He stops me as I open the door. “Give me your number. ”

“Theo—”

“For work, promise. We’re working together. I want us to be able to communicate in case we have ideas. I promise that I won’t send you any dick pics.”

“If you send me a dick pic, I’m sending it to your mother.”

Something different flashes across Theo’s face. Before I have time to take in the emotion, it’s gone, replaced by his expected reaction. He cringes. “Ouch. Mama Abrams would not love that. Threat received.”

I don’t question what that emotion on his face was. Decide that maybe it’s better if I don’t think too much into things with him.

With a slightly amused snort—I don’t want Theo to think I’m enjoying being around him —I give him my number.

I stand by my dick pic threat. There’s nothing sexy about an image of a dick. What am I supposed to do with that? Fantasize about likely unsatisfying sex?

No, thank you.