Page 43 of Save Your Breath

Now, it would be used as ammo against me.

Where I was of the impression there wasn’t much I could do about any of it, Isabella had launched into action, booking me a flight to Florida and reserving a gorgeous house on the beach.

Not for vacation.

But for a photo opportunity.

“The best way to shut that man up is to steal back the attention,” she’d said. “And what better way to do that than with the first leaked photos of you and Aleks sucking face?”

She’d proposed the idea with a wink and a little twirl as she packed a bag for me, and before I knew it, I was touching down in Tampa and being driven out to the beach house.

Aleks was already there waiting for me.

It was a hot, sunny day with clouds rolling in — the kind that would bring a thunderstorm come four PM. It was like that everyday during the summer in Florida, a fact I’d learned from Aleks when he moved here before the start of last season.

Looking at him now, it was hard to believe he hadn’t been born and raised a Floridian.

He waltzed out of the grand door of the beach mansion with one hand in the pocket of his linen shorts and the other holding a beer. He was barefoot, a reflective pair of aviator sunglasses perched on his nose. His bright, floral collared shirt was unbuttoned and flowing in the gentle breeze, showing off the bronze glow of his toned abdomen.

He had put on a little weight and muscle since I’d seen him in New York. I knew from growing up with my father and Aleks in the house that hockey players tended to lose a lot of weight in the playoff season, and it usually took all summer to get them back in shape.

Aleks didn’t seem to be having any issue.

I knew those lines and ridges of his abdomen well, knew the faded tattoo that spread over his right lat and the deep-cut V that disappeared under his shorts. When we were younger, I’d flush every time I saw him without a shirt, whether it was him walking around the house on a lazy Sunday afternoon or rushing to get ready for school after a morning shower.

He was different now.

He was tan instead of pale, taller and bigger in every possible way. His smirk may have been that same cocky one he’d always had, but it was backed by experience now. It wasn’t just a shield he hid behind.

With how much Florida suited him, it was hard to remember the teenager I first met, the one who always wore a puffy jacket and a beanie over his head. Living in Chicago, that was how most of us dressed for three quarters of the year.

Now it just looked like he wasmadeto be a beach bum.

“Welcome to paradise,” he said, spreading his arms wide as my team unloaded the car.

Isabella couldn’t be here this time, but we had Marci, her assistant, as well as James, Hunter, and a few members of their team. They each shook hands with Aleks before tending to securing the area and getting my luggage inside. Marci was already on the hunt for where our staged kiss would take place, and I didn’t need more than one guess to know it was Isabella on the phone with her as she trotted out toward our stretch of private beach.

“Paradise,” I muttered as she scampered away. “More like my personal hell.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. I showered,” Aleks said in defense, making his way down the steps toward me. “Even brushed my teeth,” he added with a wink.

“You are enjoying this a bit too much, I think,” I said with a roll of my eyes, but I couldn’t help the curl of my lips as Aleks wrapped me in a hug. He smelled like sunscreen and citrus beer.

“How could I not? Getting to kiss the world’s biggest pop star and stay at a swanky beach mansion all weekend for free?” He ran his fingers across his lips. “Hmm… maybe I should put on some lip balm.”

“Shut up,” I said, shoving him away. He took the small bag I had on my shoulder from me and led the way inside. And while he rambled on about the different areas of the house he’d already explored — including the infinity pool overlooking the Gulf — I clung to that one word that had slipped so easily from his lips.

Kiss.

For the first time since Garrett’s video had dropped, I felt my stomach tighten for a completely different reason. No longer was I concerned over what some idiots on the Internet were saying about my album.

Now, I could only focus on the fact that I was going to kiss Aleks Suter.

Aleks Suter. My best friend. My teenage dream. The one I’d wanted for so long.

His lips were going to touch mine.

And he was making jokes about it.