Page 8 of Wild Infatuation (Rebel Rockstars #3)

Chapter Eight

Terrance

THE FIRST DAY OF the music video shoot buzzes through my body all night. It tingles in my fingers as I drive home and swirls in my stomach as I heat up leftovers for dinner.

And I have to do it all over again tomorrow.

Excitement twists my insides into knots when I return to the arboretum the next morning.

I get one more day of close contact, and then I’ll go back to being a face in the crowd, but if yesterday is anything to judge by, this will be the experience of a lifetime.

I plan to make the most of it. Not in a creepy way.

I don’t want to get blacklisted from the industry when this job could open a ton of doors for me.

Still, I might as well enjoy having Shawn in my chair while I can.

I do a couple of the others first, keeping it quick and professional. It’s not that I’m not awed by them. I certainly am, but even as I arrange Jacob’s wavy hair, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that Shawn is next.

I’m better prepared to meet his gaze when he heads into the trailer today.

He gives me a nod and I turn my chair so he can settle in it.

He doesn’t speak as I clip his hair out of the way and evaluate his face like I’ve never seen it before.

I set a finger under his chin to tilt his head this way and that, but of course he looks the same as he did yesterday — absolutely perfect.

It’s almost a shame to start dabbing color corrector on him.

The slight variance in coloration doesn’t take away from his handsomeness whatsoever.

It just makes him real and tangible, and I know I’m not the only fan who appreciates that.

Keeping that in mind, I leave the concealer light, as I did yesterday. Some artists like to go out there heavily made up, as flawless as dolls, but that doesn’t suit Shawn or the rest of his band. The fans would hate it if they suddenly looked like smooth statues now that they’re famous.

Then it’s time for the lip gloss, just a light touch of it, not even enough for the cameras to catch unless they zoom in on him.

Maybe I put it there for me instead of him, I consider as I brush it onto his parted lips.

Maybe I apply it just to feel his mouth through my brush, learn the shape and texture of it.

It’s the closest I’ll ever get, but I can still imagine that the bristles of the brush are my lips grazing his.

“Look up at me,” I say.

He does, and once again my eyeliner pen freezes mid-motion.

I brace my hand against his face, but linger there for a moment instead of tracing his lower lid.

Why is this even harder today than it was yesterday?

It should be easier now that I know what’s coming, but when those dark eyes lock on mine, all I can think about is kissing him.

For half a second, I thought I might get to last night.

Our hands overlapped as I passed him my T-shirt in the parking lot, and for one fraught second, I really believed it could happen.

It couldn’t, of course. Not then, and certainly not now.

Yet the desire unfurls inside me all the same, pushing every other thought out of my head until I manage to recover and actually apply his eyeliner.

It’s a simple look, but I back off and turn the chair around so he can check it out in the mirror.

“Looks good,” he says.

The mild approval sends my heart racing. I wish I needed to trim his hair again, but it hasn’t miraculously grown in overnight, so I simply slick it back into the same hairstyle as yesterday and let him go.

“You’re ready to go,” I say, not without regret. I’ll never get this close to him again, yet I have no choice but to back off and let him go be a rockstar.

He rises from the chair and faces me. As with last night, he hesitates, and I think again that he seems on the verge of saying something.

“Your shirt,” he says eventually.

“Oh, yeah, thanks again,” I say.

He shifts from foot to foot. “I haven’t actually asked Jacob yet. I’ll talk to him during a break. Make sure you don’t leave before I get a chance to see you, okay?”

My heart trips over itself in its race to freak out about that. In any other context, those phrases would come laden with so much additional meaning.

“Yeah, sure,” I manage.

He nods and heads out of the trailer, but my heart is flying around my chest even as I work on Levi next.

It isn’t the end, not quite yet. I’ll get to see him later tonight, and sure, it’s only so he can give me a T-shirt, but it still means one more chance to see him, one more chance to be close, one more chance to look into those eyes without a whole concert stadium between us.

I’ll take whatever I can get.

I GET THE BAND ready, then they fall into the director’s hands.

I hang around, not only to see Shawn later, but also so I’m on hand if the director asks for touch ups during the shooting.

It seems the stunts are done, most of the shots today being simpler stuff.

I can imagine Shawn’s relief. No more weird jumps into crash pads.

All he has to do today is stand where the director places him and pretend to play his guitar.

He looks more relaxed than yesterday, more easy and natural and himself than when they asked him to perform weird tricks.

I lose myself watching him. When he’s not trying, he’s even more attractive. It almost makes me wish I’d refused to put any makeup on him at all, but I don’t want to get fired to satisfy an unrealistic crush.

“He looks good, huh?”

I startle to find one of the PAs, Sharon, sidling up beside me. She hugs a clipboard to her chest.

“Hopefully they all look good,” I say when I recover.

She shoots me a look. “Oh, right, you’re the hair and makeup guy. You did good work. I like that it’s subtle. It would be weird to see them too done up.”

“Are you a fan?”

She brightens. “Yeah, been following them for a while. It’s kind of crazy to be on a music video set with guys who were a local band a year or so ago.”

“I know, right?”

My excitement rises. I love discovering fellow fans, and eagerly launch into a hushed conversation about everything the band’s been up to in the past year. Sharon follows right along, revealing herself as just as big a fan as me.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one on this set,” I say. “I was starting to feel crazy.”

“Oh, there’s a few of us around,” Sharon says, “but I think we’re all trying to act normal. It must be twice as hard for you. You have to touch them and stuff back there in that hair and makeup trailer.”

Heat creeps into my face, basically confirming everything Sharon likely assumes about the experience of getting so close and intimate with Shawn. She lowers her voice, leaning closer.

“So, which one of them is it?” she says. “It’s Shawn, right? That’s the one you’ve been fixated on all day.”

The blush burns hotter. Am I really that obvious? Apparently so, if someone I’ve just met can spot it this quickly.

“No need to be ashamed,” Sharon says. “He’s definitely hot. You should go for it.”

I scoff loud enough to draw the attention of those closest to us. Lowering my voice, I grumble, “Yeah, sure.”

“What? Crazier things have happened. Besides, apparently the whole band is gay, so you’ve got a better shot than me, and you clearly like him.”

“Well, of course I like him,” I blurt. “I mean, look at him.”

I wave vaguely in Shawn’s direction. He stands beside the pond playing his guitar, a camera in his face. The shot will be stunning because of far more than the picturesque garden framing him.

“He’s gorgeous,” I say before I can stop myself, “but he’s also a rockstar. It doesn’t matter how much I like him.”

I’ve always been a bit too honest for my own good. The truth stings, and judging by Sharon’s grimace, she’s struggling to find a way to disagree.

“You never know,” she offers weakly, “but either way, you might want to be a little less honest and obvious about it. Maybe he actually does like you, but doesn’t want to show it. Rockstars tend to like discretion.”

“Why bother? I mean, we’re close in age. We have similar interests. We’re adults. If he actually felt that way, why wouldn’t he do what he wants?”

Sharon laughs behind her hand. “Oh, you really are a pure soul, aren’t you? Maybe it’s better that you don’t think you have a chance. A guy like Shawn would chew you up and spit you out.”

I cock my head. This whole conversation has gone off the rails, but what Sharon just suggested is too weird for me to process.

Shawn doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.

I can’t imagine him hurting someone for the sake of secrecy when neither of them are doing anything wrong.

I’m sure if he was interested he would go for it.

He’s gorgeous, rich, talented, famous… What possible reason could he have to hold back?

“I think he’s too kind to do that,” I say carefully.

Sharon raises her eyebrows. “How do you know? It’s not like you actually know him. We’re fans and employees at the end of the day. We don’t know what they’re like in private.”

“True…” I say, yet her words fail to shake my faith. Shawn isn’t like that. He’s not the callous, cold, distant celebrity Sharon makes him out to be. The whole band has stayed true to themselves throughout their rise to fame, and I refuse to believe that’s a fluke.

“Anyway,” Sharon says, slapping me on the shoulder, “looks like they’re wrapping up for the day. Shoot your shot while you can.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

She shrugs. “He’s heading right for you.”

When I jerk my head up, it turns out she’s right. Shawn is stalking directly toward me, and that’s not my over-active imagination speaking. His eyes lock on mine, focusing on nothing else as he passes off his guitar and makes his way toward me.

I search for Sharon as panic clogs my throat, but she’s already scurried away.

I’m alone and gaping like a fool at the edge of the grassy area ringing the pond.

Sharon’s words scream in the back of my mind, urging me on even as they temper my hopes.

My own caution overrides her efforts at encouragement, however.

I may like to look on the bright side, but I’ll never be enough of an optimist to believe an honest-to-God rockstar has any interest in someone like me.

Besides … discretion. If what Sharon said is even slightly true, Shawn wouldn’t walk right up to me in the middle of a busy music video shoot and declare he wants me.

Yet here he comes, his eyes fixed on me, eliminating any doubt about his destination. I swallow and steel myself, the words “you never know” chiming in my head.