All Access (The Fangirl Series Book 1)

by Liberty Kontranowski

  “Niles.”

  “I know,” he interrupts. “I know it’s something you hadn’t given much thought to, but how awesome would it be, really? You could come here whenever you wanted. Stay here the weeks Bub has the girls, bring them here on weekends. And if you ever moved here full time, they’d be right by the school. It makes a lot of sense, really.”

  He’s right. It would be awesome. It’d be crazy and nuts and a whole lot irrational, but it would be totally, totally awesome.

  If we were completely okay.

  “Uh, we haven’t had our talk yet,” I stammer.

  “I know, but I already said I was sorry, and I promised not to do whatever I did ever again. Even my mom promised.” He gives me playful wink.

  “Niles! You don’t even know what you did! How can you be sorry? And how can you promise you won’t do it again?” I know he’s trying to keep this light, so I try, too, but I need to know that something like this is a one-time dealio, and that from here forth, we’re all about being straight with each other.

  He pulls out his phone, looks at the screen, and jams it back into his pocket. “We’ll talk, I promise. But the realtor will be here any second. She was planning to head to church this morning, but I convinced her to meet us here instead.” He looks so incredibly proud of himself.

  “The realtor? You’re having the realtor meet us here?” There are several people nearby, as usual, so I try to keep my voice down and not attract a lot of attention, but . . . What. The. Hell?

  “There is no obligation here, Kallie. I just thought the timing was pretty awesome. I set this up last night. Before everything happened.” He leans into me and hushes his voice. “I called her when I ran out to buy the, ahem, supplies that we sadly never used.” He nudges me with his elbow; my heart lurches in response.

  If I could kiss him and punch him in the throat all at once, I most certainly would. On one hand, I’m crazy pissed that he set this up without even telling me. On the other hand, I’m crazy giddy that he set this up without even telling me. I mean, how romantic.

  Then, on another hand, I’m crazy pissed that he didn’t cancel, given the questionable condition our . . . situation . . . is in right now. And on yet another hand, I’m crazy giddy that he didn’t cancel, because this must really mean a lot to him and he must be totally sold on being with me for the long haul. Ah, confusion. The name of the game in our little relationship.

  “Hey,” he says, smoothing my hair. “I wanted this to be a fun surprise. I didn’t mean to freak you out. But since we’re a little, uh, pressed for time, let’s just take the walk through and then I promise we’ll hash absolutely everything out, once and for all. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He leans in to kiss me, just as I hear a camera snap nearby.

  “I think we just got shot,” I whisper.

  “I don’t care,” he breathes. “If you move here, they’ll get used to us.” He kisses me again, which is both electrifying and nerve-wracking. It’s entirely possible these kisses will be documented all across the Internet. Where anyone can see them. Anyone at all. Man, this is going to take some getting used to.

  “Hi, guys, sorry to interrupt,” says a far-too-chipper voice from behind. “I’m Mindy.” A petite little redhead even shorter than me extends her hand, first to me (impressive) then to Niles. “Huge, huge fan, Mr. Russell. Just had to get that out of the way.” She winks to no one in particular and holds the door open for us. “This is a great property. It’ll be perfect for you two. Let’s go have a look.”

  My heart flies right up through my throat and settles itself onto the tip of my tongue. She thinks we’re looking at this place to live in together. And Niles doesn’t bother to correct her. He just holds on to my hand and pulls me along behind him as we trudge up the stairs to the second floor. The floor that contains the apartment my rock star crush is hoping to help rent for me. And my girls.

  Holy cats.

  As we hit the top stair and prepare to head into the apartment, the magnitude of this moment hits me like a tsunami. I’ve had a lot of surreal experiences over the past few weeks, but this one?

  This one tops them all.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Home and Heartache

  “Did you love it?” Niles pulls my hand up toward his chest so our arms are intertwined. “It was amazing, right?”

  Of course it was amazing. It had exposed brick walls and wood floors, just like his place, and a gourmet kitchen and lots of light. The bedrooms were perfectly sized and the bathroom seemed downright huge by New York standards. It was quieter than I expected and it had a little postage stamp-sized balcony where Niles already envisioned himself grilling. It’s perfect.

  I try so hard to keep an even keel, but I can’t. Glimpses of a maybe-life take over my mind. So much has unfolded over the past few weeks—so much more than I could have ever imagined—that I can’t help but indulge in this wild fantasy, too.

  “It’s pretty damn perfect.”

  “Mindy thinks it will move fast,” Niles says, his voice urgent. I can’t help but know this—she said it at least half a dozen times as she showed us around.

  “It’s incredible,” I bubble. “Of course it will move fast.” I feel like a model at a post-fashion week buffet.

  Niles stops in the middle of the sidewalk, spins me so I’m facing him, and says, “I think we should put in an offer, Kallie.” He bites his lip, which I think I’ve seen him do, like, once. “Do you?”

  I look around for a place—any place—that looks even remotely private. I find a teeny little passage between two buildings and yank him in. “This is crazy, Niles.”

  “I know.”

  “It is too fast, right?”

  “Maybe. Probably. But who really fuckin’ cares? Not me.”

  His smile is huge and his eyes are happy. I grab the back of his neck and pull his face into mine. Our lips know exactly what to do next. My stomach, not so much. It twists and turns and bubbles and plummets the entire time we kiss. If we were somewhere a little more private, things would definitely be getting very interesting right now.

  “We should do this,” I say, finally pulling away. “We should put in an offer. Oh my God! Ack! This is insane!” Niles laughs in agreement and pulls me into a hug.

  “Let’s call Mindy.”

  “Yes!” I squeal. “But first, we gotta settle ‘the issue.’ Just to get it completely off the table, okay?”

  This should be easy because I’ve clearly all but forgiven every last bit of his initial deception. We are in such a big place in our relationship that what happened has really diminished in importance to me. He has shown me again and again how real this all is and how committed he is to making it work. All he has to do now is come clean, say he’s sorry, promise that “upfront with each other” will be the name of the game going forth, and we can move on. We can rent that apartment and see each other any damn time we want and grill a freaking steak on a Monday night if we so choose. My dream life. Amped up by a hundred million percent. Coming true.

  “Okay,” he says. “Shoot.”

  “Okay.” I let out a big breath. “Here we go . . . I’m just putting it out there, right? No holding back.”

  “Yeah, go.”

  I look at him and scrunch up my face. “Why did you use me, Niles? I know you’d never purposefully hurt me. So why did you do it?”

  “Do what?” His eyebrows crinkle and the sunshine leaves his face. “What do you mean use you?”

  “Use my story to write your album. You reached out to me to get to know me so you could find out all you could about my fangirl obsession. You had a list of a whole bunch of questions to ask me, all to get into my head. All so you could write a new album.” I watch as his eyes widen. “Right?”

  He swallows hard. “How did you know about that?”

  “Your lovely ex, of course.”

  He shakes his head. “How did she know? I never said one thing to her about it. I never said anything to
anyone about it.”

  “She sent me a picture of the notebook page with your handwritten questions all over it. Wanna see?”

  “Yeah, I wanna see!” he growls.

  I scroll through my photos (passing the Page Six picture that I saved) and hold out Robbyn’s photo for his inspection.

  “What in the hell?” He takes the phone right out of my hand and puts it so close to his eyes, he must be seeing double. “That notebook was hidden in a cabinet in my apartment.” He turns to look at me. “Where did you find this?”

  “I told you. Robbyn sent me this picture.”

  “She couldn’t have, Kallie. She hasn’t been to my apartment in over a month.”

  I hold my breath. I don’t know what he’s trying to imply, but I know damn well this photo came from Robbyn.

  “She told me you were using me when she cornered me at the after-party. That’s why I was so upset. Then in the cab, I decided I didn’t believe her. But then when we got back to your place and you, uh, stepped out, she sent a couple texts and the picture. This is her number, right?” I scroll through my recent texts and pull up Robbyn’s. I watch Niles’s face contort as he reads them.

  “She frickin’ broke in to my apartment,” he says, handing back my phone.

  “Sadly, I’m not surprised. But . . . um . . . can we get back to the main issue here? Please?”

  “Kallie, I’m sorry. Yeah, I admit it. That’s a legit piece of paper with my legit writing with the legit questions I thought I wanted to ask you. And yeah, I texted you because I couldn’t come up with any fucking ideas for this new fucking album that every fucking person on Earth wants me to shit out right this fucking second. I was dry. Drier than dry. You know how it is sometimes, right? We’ve talked about this. Sometimes the inspiration just isn’t there. So you gotta find it in unexpected places. And that’s what I thought I might do with you.”

  I am not at all surprised by what he’s saying, but somehow hearing him admit it is not as easy as I expected. Why not? Why does it hurt worse coming from his lips than it did when I heard (and easily forgave) it in my head?

  “But I scrapped that idea, just like I told you yesterday morning on the couch. I got to know you. You were the anti- what I thought you were. Or what I thought you would be.” He kicks at the wall with his shoe. “All this,” he says, motioning around him. “The kisses and professions and apartments and plans? They’re all real, Kallie. They’re all where we really are. At least, that’s where I thought we were.”

  His phone bloops, and he silences it with force. “I thought I proved this all to you many times over,” he says, turning to face me. “So why then, after all of this, are you still doubting me?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then call Mindy. Right now.”

  “Niles.”

  “What, Kallie? Call her.”

  “We’ll call her in a sec,” I say, touching his arm. “Don’t get mad, okay? Let’s talk.”

  “Mad? Why would I get mad?” He snaps his arm away. “Robbyn breaks in to my apartment, the girl I am seriously fucking nuts over thinks I’m slimy, and now instead of calling the realtor to put in an offer on an apartment together, we’re talking about something shitty I did, that I admit to as being shitty, that I said I was sorry for, but is somehow still an issue.” He flings his arms out and shrugs. “Hm, nope, nothing to get mad about here.”

  “Well, it is kind of something to talk about, right? You’ve told me again and again to talk to you, open up to you, be straight with you. Yet when I do—right before we’re about to hit a very serious milestone in our very young relationship—you freak out?” I wrinkle my nose and shake my head. “I just wanted to put the issue to bed. So we can move forward without anything hanging overhead. I don’t think I’m wrong to have done that.”

  He’s quiet for forever, pacing a little, running his hands through his hair, generally looking like he’s losing steam by the second.

  Finally, he turns around to look at me. His eyes are sad and his forehead is all creased up. “Remember all those times I told you I was a piece of shit? Well, here you go. I guess this is just another example.”

  “Um, no. That is not true at all. And besides, even if it was, I already told you that I like shit.” I’m trying to joke, to get him to smile, to lighten the mood, but his face is still flat.

  “No, Kallie,” he says, his voice soft. “See, this is what I meant. This right here. Need a girl, use a girl. I guess that’ll always be my M.O. I thought you were proof otherwise, because goddamn it, I really could see myself in that apartment with you, going to bed together, waking up in each other’s arms. Shit, I even imagined myself making breakfast for you and your girls. Your freaking girls! But I have no business doing any of that. Because all I do is fuck with people.”

  “Niles, stop,” I say. But it’s too late.

  “My mom seems to think that what I have with you is so different,” he says with air quotes. “I thought so, too. But no one can deny my history. No one can tell me I’m not right for sticking to my ‘no promises, no regrets’ theory. I almost let that slide with you. I mean, renting an apartment for you and your children? That’s a pretty damn big promise, right? And we all know I can’t handle promises. Jesus, what was I thinking?”

  “What you were thinking,” I say, trying to catch his gaze, “is that this feels right. That this is right. And I agree, it absolutely is. I just needed to know that deception won’t be part of the deal going forward. That’s all.” I feel a tear slip down my cheek. “That’s all.” I step toward him and at first it looks like he’s going to allow it, but then he steps back.

  “Well, Kallie, given my track record, I’d say that’s not something you can plan on.” He closes his eyes and that look of self-hatred—the same one I saw when he confessed all he’d done to Robbyn—is back. He looks ashamed, angry, surprised, confused. All at once. It breaks my heart.

  I want to hold him, have him hold me, cry together, just for a minute, acknowledging that baggage is part of the deal and that we both have plenty of it, but it’s nothing we can’t overcome. I want him to tell me he has no doubts that he’ll never hurt me again. I want him to be strong and self-assured that this will be perfect, with a little work. Or not perfect, but perfect enough. I want him to tell me it’s all alright, and though my worries were valid, they’re no longer relevant.

  “I wanted to make love to you last night,” he says, instead. “And again this morning. And again this afternoon. And then every chance I could get for the foreseeable future. But now I am so glad that didn’t happen. I’m so glad I didn’t wreck you, too.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” I whisper. I step toward him and this time he allows it.

  “I want to make love to you, too.” I tentatively put my hands on his shoulders. “Right now. Let’s go back to your place and do what we both so badly want to do. And then when it’s over, we’ll tell each other that we love each other, just like I’ve been dreaming, because goddamn it, it’s true. And then we’ll both assure each other that being transparent will always be our first priority and that’ll be that. We’ll live happily ever after.” He lets out a little laugh and tries to speak, but I interrupt him.

  “You admitted that you initially used me, and now all you have to do is tell me you won’t do it again. That’s it. That’s all you have to do.” I swipe at the tears streaming down my cheeks as he backs away.

  “Tell me that, Niles,” I say, my voice rising. “Tell me that, then we’ll call Mindy. We’ll put in our offer, then we’ll go back to your place and have crazy, breathtaking sex until we’re too tired to move. Then we’ll order in and make plans for where I’ll meet you next on tour.” I look at him, but his expression is blank. “That will be the beginning of our dream, Niles. We’ll live a fucking dream! So just tell me!”

  I am in full-on hysterics now, just like that. I know I’m pretty much begging and pleading. I know I sound desperate. I know I’m carrying on like a lunatic. But wi
th every breath I take and every second that passes without resolution, I become more and more aware that I’m losing him. As I am standing here and we are breathing the same air, I am losing him.

  Most people would tell me not to fold. They’d tell me to stand strong and be a woman of conviction. But the reality is, I used him, too. My book wasn’t 300 pages of how amazing he is as an honest, loyal, committed person. It was 300 pages of me living in a fantasy world. It was 300 pages of me dreaming what my life would look like if I could design it and assign it to a fictional character.

  There is absolutely no question that I used the poor guy a million times over. I used him to pacify my disdainful nights. I used him when I couldn’t deal with the shit that came in and out of my head on a daily basis. Hell, I even used thoughts and images of him when I was feeling sexy and didn’t want to go anywhere near Brad. And not only that, I used him for the benefit of my career, just like he was about to do with me. Except he never did. But, me? Yeah, I did.

  So, who am I to talk? Just because I used him then, does that mean I’m going to be deceitful forever? No. Holy shit, no. But that’s what I’ve accused him of. How did I not see that until now?

  “Niles,” I cry. “I used you, too, and I am so sorry. The book? It’s the same thing.” I want to explain it to him, but he’s already closed me off. I can tell. There is no light in his eyes anymore. There isn’t any sadness either. He’s just blank. Absolutely, completely blank.

  “Kallie. I’m not going to fool myself anymore. Or try to fool you. I am who I am. And I’ll just hurt you.”

  “You won’t. I know you won’t.”

  “I do love you,” he says, with a fire in his eyes. “And that’s why I won’t promise anything to you. I just won’t. Because then I can’t regret anything if, when, I fuck it up.”

  My knees go weak and every bit of my breath leaves my lungs. He said it. Niles Russell just said that he loves me. I heard it. It was not a book passage or a fantasy or a hallucination. It was real.