Page 27 of Wild Infatuation (Rebel Rockstars #3)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Terrance

SETH MAKES ME SIT in his big black car when we get back to my apartment. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but his eyes flicker around the parking lot and he makes two full loops before he finally deems it safe for me to exit. He even hands me a slip of paper with his phone number on it.

“If they show up, call me,” he says.

I knew this guy was serious, but he’s way scarier in person than the fans realize. I take the paper and nod before slipping out of his car. I hurry across the parking lot, locking myself in the safety of my apartment as quickly as I can.

I fall against my door with a sigh, letting my keys and work bag drop unceremoniously to the floor.

Boy, did this day ever take a turn. I woke up thinking I’d get to see Shawn, and I did, but not at all in the way I anticipated.

I also never imagined meeting the band’s bodyguard.

That story alone would send the fan Discord into days of hysterics if I told them.

But I won’t.

Of course I won’t.

Just like the first time, I’ll keep the band’s confidence.

Because I didn’t do this. I didn’t go out there and expose Shawn to the world.

I talked with a close friend in a setting I thought was safe, and someone potentially overheard.

That’s not the plot of an evil mastermind; it’s an innocent mistake.

Not that Shawn will ever see it that way.

I push away from the door, propelled by a burst of anger that surprises me with its sudden heat. I’m not naturally angry. I don’t like being angry. How else can I feel about this whole situation, though? I’m being blamed as though I planned this.

I scrub at my eyes as I sink onto the couch.

Maybe I simply want to be angry. The alternative is letting the tears fall, and I’m scared that once they begin, I’ll struggle to stop them.

It’s so unfair, and Shawn is completely closed off to hearing my side of things.

The second he found out, he clearly blamed it all on me and started spinning some story about how I set out to destroy him.

I don’t understand where that paranoia comes from, but it stands between us like a brick wall.

I distract myself by canceling all my appointments for today …

and tomorrow. There’s no chance I’ll get near the salon tomorrow, even if I feel up for it.

If one reporter found me today and this thing is already spinning out of control on social media then there will more of them blocking my path tomorrow.

I go to Discord for a temperature check. If anyone will know what’s going on, it’ll be the super fans in the Discord I help moderate.

The second the app loads, I’m bombarded with notifications.

I have dozens of messages, both DMs and direct tags in the middle of conversations. I can’t even begin to answer all of them, though the crux of every message is the same: Is it true? Are you really dating Shawn from Baptism Emperor? Why didn’t you tell us? What’s going on?

I close the app without answering. Okay, so maybe this is as bad as Shawn fears. It has taken over the Discord, dominating every conversation. If the super fans are talking about it, everyone else probably is too. I fear to check any social media platform, terrified I’ll find more of the same.

My heart sinks, a flush of cold washing away that burst of anger. How can all of this result from that conversation in the sandwich shop? I didn’t even use Shawn’s name.

Finally, I work up the courage to log back on. I don’t have to face the personal questions on Discord, but I should at a minimum know what the world is saying right now.

At first, I find more of what Shawn showed me, that blurry image of me at the music video shoot contrasted with an image of him and Olivia, Shawn clearly pulling away from her.

There are more pictures of Shawn and Olivia, the two of them eating in a restaurant, the two of them standing outside on the sidewalk with their arms around each other.

The anger returns. Most of the evidence for people’s assumptions stems from these pictures, not from me.

People are taking that image of Shawn pushing Olivia away and using it as “evidence” that the rumors about me are true.

If that’s the case, this is just as much Shawn’s fault as mine, yet he wants to pin all the blame on me.

No way. I’m not going to sit back and take that.

I might be nice, I might be an optimist, but I don’t need to be a punching bag.

Yes, I should have talked to Penelope somewhere more private, but those rumors would be a lot easier to deny if there wasn’t photographic evidence of Shawn pushing away his supposed “girlfriend.” This is as much his doing as mine.

The whole world can see that he’s not interested in Olivia, so maybe he shouldn’t have spent so much time pretending otherwise.

My phone rings, interrupting my scrolling.

I welcome the distraction from the anger bubbling up inside me.

I suspect I could keep scrolling for hours, getting more and more wound up all the while.

When I see Penelope’s name flashing on the screen, I put her on speaker so I can set my phone on the coffee table and pace around my apartment.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” she says. “Are you alive? Did that guy secret you away to a CIA torture site or something?”

“I’m safe, I’m home,” I say. “His name is Seth. He’s the band’s bodyguard.”

“The band as in … Baptism Emperor?”

I recount the whole thing for Penelope, from the moment Seth whisked me away to the moment he deposited me at my doorstep.

“I canceled all my appointments for today and tomorrow,” I finish.

“That’s probably a good idea. They haven’t let up all day. And there’s more of them now. I don’t think you could get in here even if you wanted to. We’ve been bringing clients in through the back, but God help us if they realize we’re doing it.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I never wanted any of this.”

“Hey, I know. Relax. You didn’t do this. It was an accident. Honestly, I’ve been thinking all day that one of these reporter dudes looks way too much like the guy in the sandwich shop.”

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Yeah, the one who blocked you this morning,” she says. “He looked weirdly familiar, and I couldn’t figure out why, but now that you’ve explained all this … I bet that’s who heard us. So it was all just really bad luck. We couldn’t have known someone like that was right there.”

I groan. Blaine the reporter. That’s who we were eating next to while gossiping.

Blaine the fucking paparazzo. If Penelope’s guess is correct, it would certainly explain a lot about how all of this went down, not that any of that will make a difference to Shawn.

He’s apparently made up his mind about me already.

“This sucks,” I say. I give up on my pacing and flop onto the sofa.

“Are you okay? Can I come over tonight with pho? Pho always makes everything better.”

Despite all that’s happened this morning, I smile. “That would actually be really nice, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Terrance, I’m not going to let some man make you feel like shit because of an innocent mistake, no matter how hot and rich he is. Tonight we’re going to sit down and watch all of his worst moments. There’s gotta be a blooper reel on YouTube or something.”

I chuckle, a sound I didn’t think I had in me today. “You’re the best.”

“No you, bitch.”

She hangs up for now, and I try to go about my day. I don’t dare leave the apartment and risk undoing all of Seth’s hard work. The press doesn’t seem to know where I live, and I’d very much like to keep it that way.

I don’t allow myself on social media, instead cleaning the whole apartment.

I tidy up those drawings of Shawn, storing them away so he can’t stare at me with accusation in his dark eyes.

I consider taking down my posters, but I’m not going to let Shawn ruin the whole band for me.

I didn’t get into their music because he’s hot.

I do take that signed shirt off the wall, however, and store it in my closet.

It’s too painful to have that memory of the music video shoot staring at me every day.

I finish just in time for Penelope to bang on my door. She enters carrying two plastic bags full of pho. We set them up on the coffee table and put on a rom com instead of a blooper reel. I’d rather be distracted than wallow by staring at Shawn all night.

“When do you think you’ll be back at the salon?” Penelope asks during a lull in the movie.

“I’m hoping a couple days will be enough, but maybe I should ask Seth.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for you and let you know if it’s quieting down.”

“I hope it does soon,” I say. “If I’m stuck here, all I’ll do is replay that conversation until it drives me insane.”

Penelope pats my leg, leaving her hand there.

“I’m sorry about all this,” she says.

“I’m more sorry that Shawn can’t see it’s an accident.”

“Maybe he will,” she says. “He’s probably scared. There’s a lot riding on this music video, right?”

“That’s true,” I concede. Hurt as I am, I’m not the one trying to maintain a career in a notoriously fickle industry. “But he doesn’t have to hate me for it.”

“No, he doesn’t, and I’ll smack him for that if I ever get the chance.”

“Please don’t,” I say, but I’m smiling. “I like his face the way it is.”

“I know, but don’t let him push you around just because he’s famous and hot and rich. He’s still a guy, and in this house we don’t let men call the shots for us.”

“I won’t, I promise. I don’t know what he’s going to do now. Probably ignore me. It’s probably over.”

Saying it out loud hurts a lot more than I thought it would, but the Shawn I saw this morning was so terrified I can’t imagine him reaching out to me again.

Penelope squeezes my leg. “It was fun, though, right?”

“Until now, yeah.”

“Then you have to be grateful for the experience. There will be other guys, guys who actually deserve you. I’m sorry your dream man turned out to be a jerk, but you’ve got one hell of a story for parties. And when someone comes along who’s worthy of you, this will just be a crazy memory.”

I smile, but it’s bittersweet. Despite it all, I don’t want Shawn to be a story for parties. Those moments with him felt real and important and wonderful. If we had a chance, he could have been the guy Penelope’s describing, a man who deserves me. But I suppose I’ll never know.