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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

LENA

I think I just kind of made out with Decker.

I stomp down the hall, threading my way through the bodies clogging it.

There’s no time to think about what I just did.

What he just did? My brain hurts as it racks itself for an explanation.

I was only getting closer to him, so we looked like…

Well, like what a couple looks like when they’re alone in a bedroom.

It wasn’t an invitation for him to kiss me.

That’s not what I was hoping for, right?

My brain is a jumble of lips and green eyes and his firm chest against mine. For pretending, that felt pretty real.

The kitchen is even more crowded than the hall, but I spot Joss easily. She’s toddling along the surface of the island, dodging attempts from various very large men to snatch her down. Maybe she should have taken up football.

“Excuse me! Sorry!” I smile and try to act happy and bright when I feel anything but.

Any little light that had been ignited moments ago with Decker in his bedroom has been extinguished.

Why tonight, Joss? I’m used to her antics, and typically I find them entertaining, but not tonight.

Not when the only reason I’m here is to make good on my deal with Decker, for both him and me.

We’re supposed to be the ones putting on the show.

Even from the floor I can see that Joss is too drunk to be here.

Her eyes are red and watery, almost like she’s been crying, and maybe she has after her heated phone call earlier, but I know booze is the other culprit.

The main culprit. Judging by the red spillage down the front of her once-white shirt, I’d say she’s had quite a few more in the short span of being left unattended.

Assuming that the rest of the drinks made it into her mouth, that is.

I grab her ankle. "Joss, my love! Time to go!”

She shakes me free, whipping into a wild dance.

Someone behind me snickers. The bass thumps, and the scent of beer permeates the air. It’s a far cry from the spotless place I’d seen the first time Decker brought me here.

"Joss! I need you!” I try again.

She ignores me, dancing some teetering two-step to the other side of the island.

Phones whip out in my peripherals, but a handful of them are swatted down as soon as they appear by large, grumpy-looking men.

Kings players. And they like their privacy.

I can respect that. Just as I’m about to mount the island too, one of the grumpy dudes steps closer, calling up to Joss.

It’s Cole. To my shock—and a little to my surprise—she listens to him.

They exchange a few words, and within seconds, her face is split in a double-wide smile as she hops into his arms. His grumpy expression wipes clean when she lands a sloppy kiss on his cheek before bouncing out of his hold.

“Lena! You’re here!” Joss says, tumbling in my direction.

“I sure am. And I’m ready to go.”

She pouts, pushing a ratty tangle of hair from her eyes. “Already? We just got here. I was just getting to know Colt.”

“Cole,” I correct.

“That’s what I said. Cold.”

“I have a fitting in the morning bright and early and recording after. Come have a sleepover with me like old times? I’ll have someone arrange for McDonald’s breakfast to be waiting for us.

” I try my tried-and-true go-to: appeal to her drunk stomach that seems to be stuck in the ninth grade. And it works.

“Yes, please! Extra cheese, extra orange juice, extra hashbrowns.”

I know what she’s saying, but half of it is garbled, though her excitement is loud and clear.

Grabbing her hand, I guide her toward the door, my phone at the ready.

I have to get ahold of Gustav. We need to go.

I’ve seen Joss like this many times before, and it’s only a matter of time before her legs stop working.

Decker is nowhere to be found, his bedroom dark at the end of the long hall as we pass it to reach the door.

I’ll have to text him too. I make a mental note to do that as I reach for the knob.

“Hey. You guys good?” Decker asks.

I turn to find him emerging from the dark hall. “Hey. I was about to text you. Joss is kind of hungry, and I need to wake up early for that fitting. I’ll see you soon.”

His brow twitches almost undetectably, and then he smiles. “See you soon.”

“KISSSSS!” Joss hisses the command, her words slurring even more than they were moments ago. She laughs so hard she falls back into the door.

“Here. Let me help you guys out. I’ll call Ives. He can drive you,” Decker says, scooping an arm around Joss to stabilize her.

She leans over and gives me a wink and a clumsy thumbs up. We maneuver down the hall toward the gilded elevator.

“Thanks for the help,” I finally say.

“Yeah. Thanksss.” Joss squeezes one of Decker’s pecks, and I have to admit, I’m almost as jealous as I am mortified.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him.

Decker holds back a laugh. “Don’t apologize. You’re not the one feeling me up.”

His eyes linger on mine a little too long, and I wonder if he’s thinking about minutes ago when I basically was doing just that.

There’s a click and a flash and a four-letter word. We spin to see a photographer pop out from a nook by the stairwell, staring down at his camera, cursing the flash.

“We’re not photo ready right now,” I say sternly but sweetly. I always try sprinkling on the sugar first. Decker… not so much.

“Hey, dingleberry. This is a private building.” Decker steps in front of us, but Joss is still attached to him, so she just kinda flops behind him momentarily in his attempt to shield us.

“He said dingleberry.” She snorts, pressing a hand over her mouth.

“I was visiting someone,” the photographer argues.

“Visiting hours are over,” Decker grinds out.

“There are no visiting hours.” The photographer sounds bored as he pulls a phone from his pocket and lifts it to face us. Apparently, it’s his backup plan.

“There are tonight. You need to leave,” Decker seethes.

He steps forward and Joss shifts her weight so it’s resting on me as his arm slides from holding her.

His shoulders square as he moves toward the photographer.

As much as I appreciate him keeping the paparazzi away, I don’t know what he’s doing.

Sure, this could be bad for our image—adults stumbling out of a party like they’re some kind of drunken teenagers— gasp!

—but we want people to see us. Our entire relationship hinges on how many people see us. On how many people believe us.

I want to use this to our advantage, to step forward and be the girl who calms the wild beast before he does something he can’t take back.

I contemplate how to do that while keeping Joss upright, but before I can resolve the issue, there’s a gagging sound and a splatter.

Something warm splashes over my bare legs.

Joss's groan is enough for me to know what happened without looking at the carnage.

“Ah, sick! Your friend just puked on you!” the photographer says gleefully, swinging his phone in our direction.

I’m frozen like a vomit-drenched deer in headlights.

Decker mumbles a curse as the photographer carries on about how great this all is. In a second flat, the paparazzi’s phone is in Decker’s hand and then flying straight into the putrid puddle below.

I watch as the man scrambles to find something to retrieve his phone without touching it.

It makes me feel a little bad, but not bad enough to ditch Decker and Joss and dig it out myself.

Decker fumes as I stare at him wide-eyed.

That may have been an overreaction, but it’s not like the stranger can’t retrieve the footage from his storage cloud later.

Joss gags again, her hand pressing to her lips.

She squeezes her eyes shut and then swallows.

“We need to get her back to your place,” I tell him.

Decker nods and scoops her up. I only glance back once at the man behind us who has fallen to his knees, staring aimlessly at his soiled phone.

In no time, we’re back in his apartment, shoving past a wide-eyed Cole and down the congested hall to Decker’s room.

Gently, he lays Joss on the gray chaise by the window so her head is propped up and springs into action.

I sit by her, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail as Decker disappears into his bathroom.

He comes back with a trash can and two little trash bags, as well as a hand towel and a damp cloth for her face.

“Dr. Decker in the house,” I say, a little bit impressed by his swiftness.

He flashes me a grin as he pulls out his phone. “You should see the guys on karaoke night. This isn’t my first rodeo, Lena.”

A moment later there’s a soft tap on the door and Cole appears with a peanut butter sandwich and three bottled waters hooked between his thick fingers. “She okay?”

Joss peeks her eyes open long enough to see Cole, another groan rolling from her lips as she presses her fingers to her eyes and covers her face.

“She will be. Trust me, it would’ve ended worse if she did the backflip.” I take the trash can from Decker and move it to Joss's side.

Cole drops his goods on top of the dresser before heading for the door. “Just let me know if there’s anything else I can do for her.”

“Thank you,” I say as he backs out into the hall.

“What time do you have to get up in the morning?” Decker asks me, his voice almost a whisper.

I eye Joss on the chaise, her body still, her breathing evening out. Is she falling asleep already?

“Like 5:00 a.m.,” I say.

He scrunches his face. “Tomorrow’s an off day for me, so I was planning on sleeping in.”

“You can. It’s not like you’re going with me.”

“You’ll set an alarm, I assume. And I’m guessing it’ll wake me up too.”

“Wake you up?” My brows bunch. “I’m not staying here.”