Page 10 of Wild Infatuation (Rebel Rockstars #3)

Chapter Ten

Terrance

SOMEHOW, MY LIFE GOES back to normal after that kiss.

The whole world tilts around me in the days following the music video, like a picture hung askew.

It feels impossible that I’m simply going to go home and go to work and be a regular guy with a regular life after what happened on the set.

I thought I’d be lucky to get to touch Shawn in order to do his hair and makeup; I never dared dream of getting any closer than my job required.

Of course, I haven’t d one anything about that kiss. Not that I can. I didn’t get Shawn’s number once Levi walked into the trailer and he panicked. I left within seconds, rushing out like I was stealing that signed T-shirt.

Maybe that PA, Sharon, was right. Maybe these rockstar types really are obsessed with their privacy to the point that they’ll try to hide something perfectly normal and moral and sane.

The way Shawn reacted, it was like he expected Levi to be disgusted by that kiss, but I can’t imagine any of his bandmates feeling that way.

At least two of them — Keannen and Jacob — are completely out to the public, so I doubt the others are secret homophobes.

When I reach the salon for an ordinary day of work, I check my phone on the way in as though I’ll magically have a message from Shawn, but there are no calls or messages waiting for me.

I sigh and stuff my phone in my back pocket. I got to live my wildest dreams during that music video shoot. I need to stop daydreaming and get back to real life.

Penelope is already there when I walk into the salon, and she nearly tackles me in a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” she says. “It was so boring here without you.”

“It was only two days.”

“That’s a lot of time to spend bored out of your mind.”

I roll my eyes, but smile as we head to our stations and start setting up for the day.

By the time the receptionist shows up, we’re ready for our first appointments.

In a way, it’s nice to go back to normal clients and not rockstars who make my hands sweaty while I’m trying to apply their eyeliner.

I do a trim for a little boy and freshen up a middle aged woman’s layered and dyed cut.

Then, just when I’ve stopped to take a lunch break, my phone rings. My heart nearly pounds out of my chest. I set aside the broom I was using to clear away hair clippings and rush to the cluttered supply closet to answer. I don’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Hello, I’m looking for Terrance Livingston.”

It isn’t Shawn, but I recognize the crisp, hard, business-like voice, and it doesn’t do my poor, racing heart any favors.

“This is he,” I say.

“This is Emmett from Rainier Talent Management. We spoke last week.”

I remember. How could I forget? This is the man who handed me my dream job out of nowhere.

I still can’t believe I got chosen out of all the applicants and portfolios they must have received, but I’m even more confused about why they’d be calling me back so soon.

Did I perform so poorly they mean to chew me out for it?

It seemed like it all went well at the time.

I didn’t get any notes about corrections.

A more dire thought strikes me. What if they heard about the kiss? What if Shawn himself told them about the kiss? I could see a manager viewing that as something that’s bad for the band, not to mention unprofessional. Maybe I’m about to get exiled from the entire industry.

But when Emmett continues, he delivers yet more shocking news.

“We want you back for a day if you’re available,” he says.

“Huh?”

I realize by his reaction that I must have missed a good chunk of this conversation while I was busy worrying.

Emmett continues, and it sounds like he’s repeating himself.

“We need to shoot some promotional material ahead of the video’s release.

We want to copy the looks from the video as closely as possible.

I know we’re asking a lot by requesting you recreate those looks mostly from memory, but if you think you could do it, we’d like to bring you back for it.

Does that sound like something you can accomplish? ”

This guy talks kind of funny, all stiff and formal, but maybe that’s just how bigshot managers are.

“Yes, I think I could do it,” I say. “I wrote myself some notes based on the briefing. I still have them.”

“Perfect, we’ll appreciate your attention to detail. I can send the information to the same address you gave me last time?”

“Yes, that works.”

Emmett hangs up with a couple more terse words, but I don’t leave the supply closet.

Instead, I lean against the wall between a mop and a shelf full of cleaning supplies, hugging my phone against my chest as though that will make the words that came out of it feel more real.

I’m going back? Already? It was insane enough getting to work for my favorite band one time, but it’s happening again.

What will Shawn think of this?

I don’t even know if Emmett will tell him.

Maybe a hair and makeup guy isn’t important enough to tell the band members about.

I’m not sure if I’m more scared of Emmett telling the band or not telling them.

I don’t relish the idea of surprising Shawn after what happened last time, but if he knows, he might push Emmett to choose anyone but me.

He seemed terrified when Levi interrupted us, so he definitely doesn’t want anyone knowing about that kiss, and that likely means he’d prefer to avoid me altogether.

I’m still musing when Penelope knocks on the door and then slips into the supply closet with me.

“Everything okay back here?” she says.

“Yeah, just…”

I peter out. I don’t know how to tell her I got my dream job a second time, let alone why that’s way more complicated than the first time around.

“You look kind of shaky,” Penelope says, coming closer. “Was it some crazy customer yelling at you or something?”

I manage to chuckle and shake my head. “It’s a good thing.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just surprising. The band wants me back.”

“Wait, the band. Your band? That band you’re obsessed with? They want you back?”

I nod, a smile finally breaking free. “They want to do some promo for the music video, and they asked me to come back to make sure the hair and makeup looks the same.”

“That’s incredible.”

Penelope launches into a hug. We bump into the shelf of cleaning supplies, knocking a bottle of something onto the floor. Penelope doesn’t seem to notice as she holds me at arm’s length, grinning madly. After a beat, her face falls into confusion.

“Why don’t you look ecstatic?” she says.

“It’s, well…”

I rub the back of my neck as I struggle with how to tell her. Then again, why should it be hard to tell her? She’s my friend and I trust her. I should be able to tell her anything.

“I’m nervous it might be awkward this time,” I say.

“Because … of Shawn?” When I nod, she says, voice full of skepticism, “Did something bad happen at the shoot?”

“Not bad…”

“Did something good happen?”

A grin sneaks onto her mouth as I squirm, obviously holding something back. The words burst free in a jumble, my natural inclination to trust overcoming Shawn’s display of fear.

“I kissed him,” I say. “Or maybe he kissed me. It’s kind of a blur.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Slow down. Go back. What happened?”

I recount the two days of the shoot, those moments when Shawn was in my chair and I was touching him, his promise to get my shirt signed for me, the way I followed him into that trailer.

“And then we … kissed,” I say with a shrug. “I don’t know how it happened, but it was…”

“The most amazing kiss of your life?”

I study my feet and nod as my cheeks burn. The heat in my face is answer enough for Penelope, who’s jumping and clapping in the cramped supply closet.

“Shh,” I hiss.

“Why? This is awesome! I can’t believe you’re not shouting it from the rooftops.”

“I can’t! Rockstars are … private.”

I wish I could remember how Sharon phrased it. The PA understood this stuff way better than I do.

“You have to be kidding,” Penelope says. “Privacy? You’re worried about privacy? You were alone.”

“Yeah but then someone came in and he freaked out.”

“Okay, so he’s shyer than you. So what? He clearly wants you, and now you have another chance to get him.”

My eyes go wide. That is definitely not how I was framing this new job in my mind. I didn’t give myself even a second to hope that this is an opportunity for that kiss to become something more.

“I’m not sure he wants that,” I say.

“Are you crazy? You’re gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, you kissed. This is a tale as old as time. It’s basic biology. It’s a force of nature.”

The blush deepens, threatening to burn through my cheeks.

“Terrance, what are you waiting for? The universe is dropping your man right into your lap — for the second time! You’ve already made out with him. You have to go for it. I’ll never forgive you if you don’t. This could be your last shot.”

As crazy as it is, I heed her words, mulling them over, letting hope punch through the embarrassment and disbelief. I’m a natural optimist, but this doesn’t feel like optimism. As Penelope said, I’ve already kissed him. The idea of doing it again isn’t outrageous.

“Maybe you’re right…” I say, and Penelope’s face lights up, “but he might require a certain amount of discretion.”

“Pshaw,” Penelope huffs. “Whatever. Even rockstars have to have a personal life, right? Besides, way crazier things have happened. That singer, Jacob, isn’t he dating the bodyguard or something?”

“True…”

Penelope takes me by the shoulders, all but shaking me.

“Terrance, my love, this is your shot,” she says. “You’ve got to be brave. I know you doubt yourself, but I believe in you. I believe you can get your man.”

“You’re making it sound like a heroic quest or something.”

“It is! And you’re the hero. So promise me you’ll slay the dragon or whatever and get. Your. Man.”

She shakes me on each of those last three words, until I’m giggling, caught up in her enthusiasm. By the time she lets go, I actually believe I have a shot.

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay? You’re going to go for it?”

A smile twists my mouth. “I promise I’ll try.”

“You’ll do better than try,” she says, jabbing her finger in the center of my chest. “You are getting your man. I guarantee it.”