Page 9

He lifts his hands in surrender. “All I’m saying is maybe it’s time you make a choice for yourself.

It sounds like your rebellious streak is pretty limited, like you’re afraid of going too far out on the limb without their approval.

” I scoff, but he doesn’t stop talking. “You can start and end this thing on your own terms, and in the meantime, I might be able to get a little face time at your side. Redeem myself, maybe.”

“Redeem yourself?” A laugh squawks out, no doubt given extra gusto from the drinks.

He nods. “I know it might be hard to believe, but I’m not perfect.”

I roll my eyes.

“Besides the fact the entire internet hates me for how things ended with Ada Lane, I’m getting old, Lena.”

I can’t help but laugh at the way he says it, like we’ve gathered here tonight to choose a casket for him. “You’re not that old.”

“Older than you.” He nudges my elbow that’s propped on the table. “And in football years, I’m almost ancient. At least my body is. After last year’s injury, I didn’t recover the way I thought I would. It might not hurt if people know me for something other than that.”

My first instinct is to laugh at the phrase football years , but then I see the sadness in his eyes, the way they won’t meet mine when he discusses his injury.

My heart squeezes in my chest. I once had surgery for vocal nodules, and by the grace of God, I made a full recovery.

I can’t imagine what I would have done if I’d had to sacrifice my career because my body couldn’t handle it anymore.

I want to tell him that I understand where he’s coming from, that I can sympathize, but someone approaches our table. Gustav steps out from hiding, edging toward us ever so slightly, ready to put distance between the newcomer and me.

“Hi,” the young girl says timidly.

I turn toward Gustav, who has begun advancing, and shake my head.

His brute force won’t be needed. This girl is maybe thirteen, her long hair is cut just the same as mine, dyed to match too, if her contrasting roots are any indicator, and beyond that, the pink in her cheeks tells me she’s too nervous to be a threat.

“I’m sorry, I…” She takes a deep breath, thrusting a pen in my direction. “Could I… Could I please have your autograph? I’m a big—huge—I’m a huge fan.”

I put the napkin down, facing her so she has my full attention. “Sure. And what would you like me to sign for you?”

She freezes, glancing around, her eyes wide. “I thought maybe… I don’t know.”

“Here.” I take her pen, grabbing for the closest thing to sign. Decker’s napkin. “What’s your name?”

“Sophia,” she says, brightening.

“Oh, so now it’s okay to sign napkins,” Decker mutters to me.

I kick him under the table, and much to my dismay, it only makes his smile wider. “Sophia. I love that name. Love your hair, too.”

The girl beams as she watches me draw my signature heart that appears somewhere on every album cover.

Quickly, I flip Decker’s name so it’s flat against the table, giving myself the blank side for my autograph.

I scribble out the lyrics don't forget to love yourself and punctuate it with my stage name, Lena Lux, before handing it back.

Her eyes are wide as she reads it before flipping it over, her gaze trailing up to bounce between Decker and me.

“I don’t know if this is rude.” Sophia clears her throat. “But I just want to say I’m glad you found someone else. I never liked that Callum guy. And his music is weird.”

My face heats. Some days I’m not sure why I liked him either, but talking about him now only reminds me of the fact I’m probably wanted for arson—if anyone knew it was me, that is.

I feel myself spiraling, but I quickly recover.

“That’s sweet. You know, he and I are still great friends, but I understand his music isn’t for everyone. ”

Decker scoffs, earning himself another swift nudge under the table.

“How long have you two been together?” she asks.

I panic.

Decker is more than a little amused as he sits back and waits for my answer.

If only I could reach across the table and slap him, I would.

But I consider the whole Callum fiasco, everything that’s happened recently.

He made some good points, and although I hate to admit it, so did my mom.

If she and Antonia insist on orchestrating every aspect of my life anyway, what’s the harm in me jump-starting their plan?

“It’s pretty new,” I say, groping across the table for his hand.

After what feels like too uncomfortably long, he grabs my hand and gently presses it to his lips. My smile falters as he rubs it against his sandpapery cheek, so I settle for a firm face pat instead.

“It’s still a secret,” Decker says.

Sophia looks as though she’s about to burst from excitement. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Decker nods, and I flash her one more smile before she says goodbye and departs back to a table with her parents, almost skipping all the way.

“Lena with the game time decisions. I knew you couldn’t resist a redemption arc.”

I roll my eyes and shake my hand free. “I’m not sure you can be redeemed.”

“I wasn’t talking about me.” Decker drops his smile and leans closer. “I give her two hours tops before she paints the internet with our love story.”

I make a gagging sound. “ Love is a little bit strong of a word.”

He casually tosses a piece of calamari into his smug mouth. “Everyone loves me.”

“I’m glad you think someone does.”

“You will, too.” He shifts in his seat. “Like, platonically. Eventually.”

“Sure. Well, if you can love a business partner, then maybe you’re right.”

“Oh, we’re partners now?”

“Business partners,” I clarify.

He sticks his hand out. “You got it, partner.”

I hesitate, choking down the rest of my flute before gripping his hand and shaking.

“So what do you have planned this weekend?” he asks, leaning back like we didn’t just agree to sign our lives away for the next… however many months. Years? The thought makes my stomach churn.

“You’re eager, aren’t you?”

He frowns. “I’m making small talk. Besides, we should know at least a little bit about each other if we’re gonna pull this thing off.”

I shove a fry into my mouth, answering between chews. “I’m recording. Well, re-recording something. For a remix.”

“Remix?”

“It’s nothing major. We just wanted to give a more upbeat alternative version of the stuff from my first album for the ten-year anniversary.” I swallow down my bite and realize I’ve said too much. “But no one’s supposed to know yet, so please keep that to yourself.”

He pretends to lock his lips, then leans closer. “Your secret is safe with me, babe.”

I grimace. “Ugh. If you insist on having nicknames, I get to pick mine.”

“That’s not really how nicknames work.”

“Fine. Then I at least get to approve it.”

“Fine,” he agrees. “Any more demands?”

My eyes meet his over our plates as the waitress stops by to silently pour us both another glass of champagne before disappearing again.

”I suppose we should set some boundaries,” I say.

“Like what?”

My eyes trail to the table where both our hands rest, our fingertips mere inches from one another from when he grabbed my hand just moments ago. “Like no PDA.”

“How do we convince people that two grown adults are in a loving relationship without touching each other?”

I cock my head. “Do you want to kiss me or something?”

His eyes drop to my mouth before falling to the tabletop. “No, maybe not on the mouth. But like… Your forehead or cheek or something. ”

“Fine. Just give me a warning before. And only in front of cameras or if other people are watching.” He lets out a low chuckle, and I watch as his big hand engulfs his champagne glass and lifts it to his lips.

“We might as well add holding hands to the list since you kinda already forced me to do that.”

He groans. “I grabbed your hand for like five seconds to convince that kid. I was acting. And apparently, I’m pretty good at it cause she believed it.”

I think about that. Although I’m fairly certain my young fan wouldn’t bat an eye, regardless of how convincing it was or wasn’t, because who in their right mind lies about a relationship? The answer is: you’d be surprised.

He continues on. “Okay, so no kissing. Maybe forehead or cheek, if given a heads up first.” I nod, and he clears his throat. “Holding hands or maybe a hand on the lower back. Got it.”

My champagne burns my throat as it froths back up into my nose. “Wait. What? Lower back?”

“It’s, like, a normal thing. If we’re in a crowded place, and we’re navigating through, it’s easier if you do it with your hand on your girl’s lower back.”

I grimace and tip the champagne back until it’s gone. It punches me in my senses like it’s seeking revenge. “Sure. Why not? That’s half my pictures with my exes anyway.”

“The paps love the lower back move.”

“I’m sure my manager and publicist will have something to say about the guidelines.

” I trace a finger along the edge of my glass, hoping that if I focus on the movement hard enough, he won’t be able to see the sadness cropping up at the thought of Callum.

Something I’d hoped the champagne could bury for the night.

“They’re gonna lose it when they find out I just jumped in without consulting them.

It’s not just me who has to approve of it. ”

For this to work—and to not circle back and bite me in the rear—I know I need to tell them. We need a contract in place. An airtight one only my mother and our trusted legal team could come up with. I wish that weren’t the case.

“Why?” His voice rises, and I can’t help but to meet his eyes. “Isn’t that why you agreed to do this, Lena? So you can approach it on your own terms? Forget about their approval.”