Page 13

This Isn’t the Plan

Mia

A week before the album drop, Garrett Orange made a video review that got even more attention than his article.

In this new video review, he not only repeated his earlier sentiment that my album was a feminine-rage, man-hating disgrace, but he also hammered home that the songwriting was tired, the album sounded just like the two that came before it, and that I was clearly “desperate for attention now that Austin Westbrook has stopped giving me any of his.”

He then went on to cite how Austin politely declined to answer any questions regarding our breakup or my new album in the last month, as if my ex were some kind of saint.

I tried to ignore it, trusting Isabella when she told me that my fans were defending me in the comments, and the only ones agreeing with him were angry old men — but I still felt the impact of the hit.

I still felt like no matter what we did, this man’s word would overshadow any evidence against his case that I was some lovesick crazy girl pining over her ex.

For the last two weeks since New York, the only chatter concerning me was excitement for the new album and, of course, my new relationship. Photos and videos from my appearance with Aleks when I went on The Daisy Kent Show had been posted everywhere within an hour of us leaving the building. Fans made memes and video collages with music from my last album and shared even more theories about when we started dating.

The most viral moment of all was of Aleks nearly ending the man’s life who had dared to scream at me. And when I saw the video from the fan’s point of view — Aleks seething, his jaw tight, eyes narrowed and vein pulsing in his neck… well, I understood.

It was hot as hell.

But now, Garrett Fucking Orange had the spotlight again. And to make matters worse, he had insinuated that if Aleks and I really were together, that I was likely cheating on Austin with him before we broke up.

Which was complete bullshit — I had been faithful to Austin.

But I did have a song on the album about the times I thought about cheating in my mind.

It wasn’t real, it was me exploring the feeling of being in a relationship that seems so perfect from the outside but, in reality, is in shambles.

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 every day 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 was made to 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.

Getting to kiss the world’s biggest pop star…

As if I hadn’t already tried to kiss him once before.

As if he hadn’t rejected me when I did.

Of course, I wasn’t a pop star then. I was just the awkward teenage girl who slept down the hall from him. Was it different now that I had some sort of status?

I knew it wasn’t, knew Aleks wasn’t like that even as the thought crossed my mind.

But for some reason, I wished he was.

I wished he actually wanted to kiss me, even if it was just to use me for whatever he wanted.

I must have been wearing all the stress and anxiety of the day on my face because when we made it to the bedroom I’d be staying in, Aleks frowned as he dropped my bag on one of the chairs.

It was the master suite, a stunning, too-large-for-one-person room with marble floors, a plush, king-size bed, a stylish sitting area, and doors that opened up to a balcony overlooking the beach.

“Hey,” he said, brows folding over his dark brown eyes. “You okay?”

“Oh, just peachy,” I answered flatly, slumping down onto the bed with my eyes on the blue water outside the windows.

Aleks was quiet for a long moment before he carefully sat next to me, leaving room between us.

“We don’t have to do this, you know.”

I chuffed a laugh. “Backing out on me already, Suter?”

“You know I never go back on my word. Haven’t I proved that with my angelic behavior lately?” He held up his nearly empty beer. “Haven’t had more than two a day since you threatened me from the safety of your bathtub.”

“You’ve managed not to get in a bar fight or have cuffs around your wrists for a whole two weeks,” I said. “Please don’t expect me to throw you a parade.”

“You could at least give me an ‘ atta boy’ .”

“Your head is already too big. I’m surprised you can carry it even with shoulders as muscular as yours.”

“You like my muscles, Strings?”

I rolled my eyes extra hard that time, enough that my eyelids fluttered as I let out an annoyed scoff that just made Aleks laugh.

“I’m not backing out of anything,” he said, nudging me. “Just wondering why you look like someone stole your guitar and started playing out of tune.”

“Well, I do have to kiss you,” I reminded him. “That’s enough to make any sane girl turn green.”

“Ouch. Guess I’m less appealing to you when you’re sober, eh?”

I smirked a little at the reference to our past, which somehow lightened the mood. He was right to laugh about it. As much as my stupid heart liked to overreact and latch onto that moment of rejection when I was seventeen, it didn’t have to be a big deal.

We were young. I was drunk and stupid. It wasn’t anything to hang onto.

But at the same time, it had been a very deep line drawn in the sand for me.

It had been the staunch realization that Aleks didn’t see me as more than a friend — and that he never would.

No, I wasn’t the girl who got a guy like Aleks. I was the girl who appealed to the slimy, controlling narcissists like Austin, apparently. I was the one whom golden boys wanted to tame and tote around on their arm like a trophy.

“I’m just a little tired,” I said. “We’ve been doing so much getting ready for the album release, and we still have so much to do for the tour… you know how that is. I’m sure you’ll be just as busy and tired when the season starts up again.” I rubbed my palms over my thighs. “It’ll be fine, though. I’ll be fine.”

Aleks narrowed his eyes a bit like he didn’t believe me, but before he could say anything more, Marci swung into the room.

“Ah! There you two are. Okay, I have our location picked out. Isabella dropped the hint to some local shutterbugs who are no doubt already on their way. I told James and Hunter to not let them too close, but to also make sure they had a good shot.” She paused, shaking her head. “This is so weird. Usually, we’re doing everything we can to keep these punks away from you.”

“Well, if it’ll get the attention off Garrett the Ferret, it’ll be worth it,” I said, standing. “Tell us what to do, Coach.”

· · ·

Thirty minutes later, Aleks was on the beach waiting for me.

I stared at him from my balcony, watching how he dove into the water and swam out a bit before coming back in. He was dripping wet as he slugged up the sandy beach, and then he fell back into the luxurious day bed and crossed his legs, folding his hands behind his head.

He was in position.

“They’re already snapping pics of him,” Marci confirmed as she peeked into my room from the hallway. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I muttered.

I was in my favorite bikini, a bright yellow, strappy little number that I mostly wore by my private pool in California because it was tiny and I loved the tan lines it would leave behind after a day in the sun. But as I followed Marci down the marble staircase, I found myself wrapping my white cover-up tightly around me.

I loved my body. I was proud of my sexuality and found myself embracing it more and more with every year I grew older — much to my father’s dismay, I was sure.

I also didn’t care about the paparazzi. Hell, I’d rather them have a flattering picture of me in a bikini I felt stellar in than see the pictures they loved to post of me with a mouth full of food or face screwed up mid-sneeze.

But this was Aleks.

And the thought of having his eyes on my body was enough to make me tremble before it even happened.

“I’m right here if you need me,” Marci said, stopping in the living room and fussing with my hair a bit — as if the wind on the beach wasn’t about to destroy it, anyway. “Remember, just act natural. And you don’t have to stay out there too long. I think we’ll sell it even more if you both pretend like you spot the paps and he kind of ushers you inside to get away from them.”

I nodded, giving her an awkward thumbs up. “Got it.”

“Have fun,” she said with a salacious smile.

I didn’t even entertain that with a response. Instead, I turned and marched out to the beach, slowing my gait the closer I got to where Aleks was sprawled out on the day bed.

He was tapping his foot to some reggae music playing from a Bluetooth speaker, humming along like he didn’t have a care in the world. Water sluiced down his body as he dried beneath the sun, sand sticking to his feet and the bottom of his calves.

I tried not to notice how his navy-blue board shorts stuck to his thick thighs — along with another thick part of him — but the closer I got, the more it drew my attention. It was impossible not to look with the water dripping down the middle of his abs and sliding along the hem of those shorts.

It was like a hundred neon arrows pointing down to the promised land.

Sweat beaded on the back of my neck and slid along my spine, and not from the July heat.

Get it together, Mia .

Sipping in a deep inhale, I let it out slowly, plastering a fake smile on my face as I sidled up next to him and stood so I was blocking the sun.

Show time.

“Need me to rub some sunscreen on your back, sweetie?” I teased, knowing the paparazzi couldn’t hear us. But even though they were far away and out of sight, I swore I could hear their shutters clicking.

Aleks must have had his eyes closed under those dark sunglasses because he lifted his head and turned toward me with that sexy smirk he wore so effortlessly.

The moment he saw me, that smile slipped.

I shrugged off my cover-up and tossed it onto the day bed next to him, just like we’d talked about when we went through the plan with Marci. And even though it was scorching hot, a wave of goosebumps paraded over my skin the moment I didn’t have that cover-up shielding me any longer.

Next, I was supposed to say something, we were both supposed to laugh, and then I would bend down and plant one on him.

But when Aleks slid his sunglasses down his nose, his eyes dilating at the sight of me — all those plans flew out of my head, and I was rooted in place.

I forgot what I was supposed to say. I forgot how to laugh. I forgot how to breathe .

Those dark eyes were nearly all black as they scanned me from where my lips were parted all the way down to where my toes were hidden under the warm sand. They snagged like a fisherman’s hook on seaweed along the way, too — on my collarbone, my breasts, my navel, my hips, my thighs, my calves.

I felt like an offering to a king or a god, like I was his to devour and there was nothing I could do about it.

Like I wouldn’t do a thing even if I could.

“ L?ck du mir ,” he muttered, the words rolling together as one in a deep baritone that had my toes curling in the sand. I had no idea what it meant, but I didn’t need Google Translate to get a general understanding.

It was in his eyes, in his slack jaw, in the way he ambled up to stand with his gaze never leaving me.

“ Fuck , Mia…” He shook his head, reaching out to drag his knuckles down the length of my arm as if it was the most natural instinct, as if he couldn’t help but touch me.

Chills swept over me like a cool summer rain.

I knew it was for show. I knew he was much better than I was at making this look natural. This was probably how he touched all the women he fooled around with — as if they belonged to him, as if they were the object of his every obsession.

But it still knocked me breathless, even if it was fake.

His nostrils flared as he took me in again with a closer view, his fingertips sliding just beneath the yellow strap at my collar bone. “ dFarb staht dir mega. ”

I somehow managed a small laugh that didn’t sound like my breath was prisoner in my chest. “Are you aware you’re speaking to me in another language?”

“I said this color suits you,” he mused, his voice quieter, rougher. I didn’t miss how he struggled to swallow, how his jaw drew tight as his hand slid up my arm and around to the back of my neck.

His fingers curled in my hair there, his eyes pinning mine.

“You’re exquisite.”

“This isn’t the plan,” I breathed, eyes struggling to stay open as desire flooded through me. It was too much, having him this close, feeling him tower over me as his rough hands framed my face and tilted my chin up toward his. “You’re supposed to sit there. I’m supposed to—”

“The plan was eviscerated the moment you showed up in this,” he said, plucking at the lemon-colored string at my hip. “Gives a new meaning to your nickname, Strings.”

“Oh,” I whispered. God, I hoped I whispered it. I hoped I said it in my head, actually, or at least muttered it so quietly that he couldn’t hear.

Aleks swallowed as his hand trailed back up. He cradled my face, pulling me to him. I was incapable of doing anything other than just barely keeping my balance as I leaned into his touch.

“Ready?”

“Huh?”

He smirked as I struggled against my lightheadedness at the feel of his hands on me.

“Can I kiss you now?”

I licked my lips, eyes already fluttering shut as I nodded.

“Strings…”

My eyes reluctantly opened, and Aleks thumbed my jaw as every muscle in him seemed wound tight with restraint.

“I’m going to need verbal consent here,” he said roughly.

“Kiss me.”

The words were nothing more than a breathless adjuration, and then his lips were on mine.

It was like being thrown into an icy lake, the way a little gasp erupted from me the moment our mouths melded together. Aleks held me steadier at the sound, his hands stable where they framed my face, his arms serving as safety rails as I wrapped my fingers around his forearms and held on for dear life.

Was it the heat from the sun or from him that rushed through every vein, that made my chest rise and fall so rapidly I worried I’d faint? Was it fire or ice? Was I burning alive or about to catch hypothermia?

This is fake, I reminded myself. He’s putting on a show for the cameras.

But, God , what a show it was.

His lips massaged mine, tender and warm and somehow too soft to belong to a man so hard and lined with sharp edges. He nipped at my bottom lip, kissing along my jaw and chin before he claimed my mouth again. This time, I was mid-pant, and he swept his tongue inside to dance with mine.

An embarrassing moan slipped out of me when he did, and it was like that sound unhinged him.

Aleks groaned, wrapping his arms fully around me and pulling my body flush against his.

Heat.

Definitely heat.

That heat was enough to dismantle me now, to burn me from the inside out and reduce me to a pile of soot. His body was wet and slick against mine, steam rising in what little space existed between us, our breaths growing more and more frantic with each kiss.

“You’re putting on quite the show,” Aleks mused against my mouth before biting down on my lower lip.

“No way I’m letting you outdo me.”

He chuckled, but that laugh turned into a low groan when I hiked my leg up over his hip. He grabbed ahold of my thigh, and I wrapped my arms around him, rolling into the next kiss like a desperate teenager.

And maybe I was.

Maybe this was years and years of pent-up energy finally bursting loose.

Maybe this was seventeen-year-old me finally getting her chance.

“Mia,” Aleks warned, and when I felt his erection pressing against my stomach, a rush of power flooded me, replacing the heat.

I smirked, sliding my hand down his chest and tickling the skin just above his shorts with one long fingernail.

“Woman,” he cursed, and then with his teeth gritted and as if it pained him, he wrapped his hands around my arms and firmly put space between us.

He didn’t shove me away, didn’t do anything so drastic that the cameras would notice. But he held me at a safe distance, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he shook his head and let his heated gaze rake over me.

“What’s wrong, Suter?” I teased, hoping the way I was quite literally panting would come off as part of the play. “Afraid the world will see your… situation?”

A challenge sparkled in his eyes. “Oh, you think you’re slick, huh? Think this will embarrass me?”

I shrugged with a coy smile, still trying to catch my breath and come down from a fake kiss that felt anything but.

“Na?ve little thing,” he said, running his thumb along my lower lip. “I thought you knew by now that nothing embarrasses me.”

Then, suddenly, he released me, stepped back, untied his board shorts, and ripped them down to his ankles.

I didn’t dare give him the satisfaction of looking down, not even when he smirked and waggled his brows before jogging off toward the water.

But once he did, I let out a fizzle of laughter, covering my face as I shook my head.

That was it.

That was the money shot.

And within an hour, all the headlines had shifted from Garrett Orange and his opinions on my music to my new boyfriend’s gigantic cock.