by Shandi Boyes
I roll over with a grunt, my hand stretching out to slap the annoying drone bouncing across my bedside table. No matter how many times I smack my phone, its annoying buzz won’t shut up. I wouldn’t be so aggravated if I weren’t paying for the celebratory drinks I had with the guys last night. My head is thumping like someone is jackhammering in there, and my mouth feels like it's been wiped clean with cotton balls.
“Alright. Fuck me! I’m up.”
I throw off my duvet with a growl before picking up my once again ringing phone. The worst hangover in history can’t compete with the bile scorching my throat when I peer down at the screen. Delilah is calling me—again.
She’s the last person I want to speak to while hungover, but if I keep skirting her like I did yesterday, it will be more than my job on the line.
After neighing my lips like a horse, I press my phone to my ear. “Hello.”
“Sorry, Princess, did I wake you?”
I yank my phone away from my ear, her screeching voice too much to bear this early in the morning. "Uh-huh," is all I can mumble.
I badly need some Advil and should probably wash it down with a few gallons of water. If my scaly skin is anything to go by, I'm severely dehydrated, which is surprising considering the copious amounts of liquor I drank last night.
I need more than pain medication when Delilah barks down the line, “I need to brief you before our press conference this afternoon. I’ll be in your room in fifteen minutes.”
She steals my chance to advise I’m not presentable for company by slamming down the receiver. As I dump my cell on the bedside table, I notice it’s a little before eleven. Although I’m dying to call Emily, she’d be in her sociology class by now. Instead, I send her a text before dragging my sorry ass out of bed for a steaming hot shower.
I've barely soaked my head in one-tenth of the liquid I guzzled down last night when I hear Delilah banging on my hotel room door. If I weren’t anticipating her arrival, I’d be worried I’m seconds from being raided by the police. That’s how hard she’s knocking.
I throw on a pair of boxer shorts before racing to the door to let her in. Things got a little rowdy with Slater, Marcus and me last night, so the last thing I want is another disturbance notice.
“It smells like a brewery in here.”
Delilah screws up her nose before entering my room. After taking in the empty bottles spread across the coffee table, she moves to the two-seater table in front of a floor-to-ceiling window to take a seat. I usually eat my breakfast there while enjoying the scenery.
Delilah might not have any appetizers in front of her, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t taking advantage of usually unseen scenery. Her eyes rake my body for several nauseating seconds before they return to my face. The lust in them almost makes me barf. I’ve never felt more ill in my life.
Hell no, dragon lady, you’re not allowed to sample my goods.
When I snag a shirt off my bed and throw it over my head, her eyes return to their normal, narrowed squint. She tries to play it cool, like she wasn’t just ogling me like I was cake and she’s been on a diet for three years. Now I know why she helps the talent. She’s a shit actor.
After doubling my protection with a pair of jeans, I take a seat across from Delilah before accepting the piece of paper she is holding out for me. “You have a press conference at three where you’ll read this statement before opening up questions to the reporters in attendance.”
I scan the document, my blood pressure notching up the longer I read it.
Good afternoon, I'm Noah Taylor, lead singer of Rise Up. First, I’d like to thank you for attending our press conference today. I understand how hectic things can be. Our lead guitarist, Nick, welcomed a baby boy into his family Saturday morning—his fiancée, Jenni, is recovering well—and our song Surrender Me climbed to the number one song on the Billboard charts late last night.
If that isn’t already exciting, on Saturday afternoon, Rise Up was signed on as the opening act for the O’Reilly Brothers for the next two months of their West Coast tour. Tickets are available for all shows; the details can be found on our record label’s website. Rise Up is excited to work alongside such talented artists, and we thank them for the opportunity they have given us.
I’ll now open the floor to any questions, but I will not be answering any questions in regards to my relationship with Hope Bennett.
My eyes snap up from the paper I’m clutching. “What the hell? The last part insinuates I'm in a relationship with Hope. I don’t even know who the fuck she is, so why would I be associated with her?”
“After the stunt you pulled on MTV, I’ve been fielding endless calls from reporters wanting to know whom you're in love with."
“Then tell them the truth!” I throw my arms in the air. “I’m in love with Emily, my fiancée, not some starlet I’ve never heard of!”
"My job is to ensure the public perceives you in a manner that helps your career. Admitting you're engaged to a suburban hick would be ludicrous.”
Fury blackens my veins. I’ve never wanted to slap a woman, but Delilah is my first exception to that rule.
“This makes sense.” She nudges her head to the press release she wants me to read. “Two up and coming stars find both love and stardom together. The gossip sites will have a field day with it. A rock star and an actress. It's every publicist’s dream.”
“I don’t give a fuck if it’s a pot of gold under a rainbow, it’s not happening. I’m not going through with this anymore.” I look her dead set in the eyes. “I love Emily. She is going to be my wife. This...” I toss her document to her side of the table. “... is done. We’re done.”
Chapter 41
Emily
I skip out of the Dean’s office. Our meeting went better than expected. He couldn’t answer all my questions but promised to have them tied up by the end of the week. That’s also when he’ll make his final decision about my proposal. It will be a nerve-wracking week, but with a heavy course-load to keep me occupied, I’m hoping it will go quick. If not, I’m sure the upcoming Christmas/ New Year festivities will pick up the slack.
As hoping, my week flew by. Unfortunately, I haven’t heard back from the Dean in regards to my application. I’m a little disheartened, but understand the upcoming holiday season may delay the process. I'd be more upset if Noah hadn't kept his promise about maintaining regular contact like we did when I first started college. We've FaceTimed every night the past five days, and our texts could fill the pages of a romance novel. He’s extremely busy prepping for his tour, but he's always in a positive mind frame when we talk.
With Noah needed on the West Coast, I visited Jenni, Nick, and Jasper for the weekend. With Jasper being premature, they weren’t discharged from hospital until Friday night. Jenni is a nurturer, so parenting has come easy to her. Just looking at her, you wouldn’t know she only had a baby a week ago. She’s positively glowing.
My trip had many great benefits. I got squishy cuddles and had plenty of time to daydream about the traits I hope my children will inherit from Noah. I really hope they get his dimples and dark, stormy eyes. Then, while Jasper was sleeping, Jenni and I worked on the surprise I’m planning for Noah’s birthday.
It’s so top secret, everyone involved has been sworn to secrecy. Although I hate keeping things from Noah after recently promising to have no secrets between us, this is different.
It’s not a secret when it will give him everything he’s ever wanted.
My gallops down the stairs of my economics class slow when my cell phone plays its ‘Surrender Me’ ringtone. Grinning like a giddy idiot, I slide my phone out of my pocket, hit the connect button, then press it to my ear. “Noah...” I breathe excitedly into the phone.
“Hey, Beautiful, how are you?”
I walk down the concrete sidewalk and head for my dorm. “I’m good, thanks. Just finished my last class of the day.” I only have classes until midday on Mondays. The other half of my day is
allocated to study or make-up courses.
“How was your economics class?”
My heart beats double time. He paid careful attention to my class schedule last year, but I thought that would be over now that he’s so busy. I love how considerate he is. Having him follow my routine makes it seem as if he’s studying right alongside me.
“It was good.” I smile while rolling my eyes. I’m not a fan of economics. I just love the many doors it could open for me in the future. “How’s your day been?”
My steps taper when he murmurs, “Long... but it’ll be worth it.”
He sounds tired. That’s not a surprise. He’s been working nonstop the past week preparing for their debut concert Saturday night. It will be a massive week of firsts for him, and I'm not solely referring to his career either.
“How’s the weather?”
I stop walking to look up and admire the brilliant blue sky. “Umm... good. It was a little windy this morning, but it has settled down this afternoon.” It’s weird he wants to talk about the weather, but I’d talk to him about the odd color of Jasper's poop if it means I get to hear his voice.
“Compared to LA, the wind here is like ice. You really should be wearing a jacket.”
My heart skips a beat when the entirety of his reply hits me. He’s talking as if he’s here, with me. With my hand on my chest to keep my heart in its right spot, I spin in a circle, seeking Noah amongst the crowd. For a Monday, the quad is more packed than it usually is, but I don’t spot Noah.
I lick my dry lips before forcing out my words through the excitement clutching my throat. “How do you know I’m not wearing my jacket?”
Noah warned me to be cautious about being followed after the paparazzi captured half my face at the café last week, but the closest I've come to a camera the past eight days was when Jeremy Mitchell snapped my picture unaware last week. He was quick to delete it when I said I'd report his "Hottie or Not" website to the Dean. My ego was stoked at the 99.9% rating I achieved when he added me to his site last month, but I'm not a fan of women being judged online like we're pieces of meat.
I stop thinking up ways to have Jeremy’s website pulled down when Noah growls, “I know your Van Halen shirt is one of your favorites, but sometimes even the greats have to take a step back when it comes to your health.”
My heart squeezes in my chest when I peer down; I'm wearing my favorite Van Halen shirt. My tearful eyes drift over the students socializing in the quad. There are hundreds of them, but I scan every single face. He is here; he has to be. I can feel him.
Thirty seconds later, my breath hitches. A gorgeous pair of intense dark eyes are peering at me from beneath a Parkwood State cap—the same Parkwood State cap they hid under only days ago.
“Noah.”
If I needed any more proof, the pop of his dimples when he smiles leaves no doubt who is standing before me. “Hi, Beautiful.”
He’s standing next to the economics building stairs I just galloped down. I feel like an idiot that I walked straight past him, but my stupidity can be easily excused. He’s wearing a Parkwood State sports jacket, matching slacks, and a low-hanging cap, making him blend in with the rest of the male population.
Blood surges through my body when I push off my feet to race his way. When I reach him, I throw myself into his arms, equally shocked and ecstatic that he’s here. His visit will throw a wrench into the surprise I’m planning for him, but I’ll work through the ripple effect after I’ve worked through my shock.
For now, nothing but reacquainting our lips is on my mind.
Chapter 42
Noah
When Emily leaps into my arms, I’m engulfed by her delicious vanilla scent, closely followed by the plumpest pair of lips I’ve ever sampled. She kisses me without the snicker I expected when her ex-roomie, Crystal, helped me plan a disguise so I could greet Emily outside of her class like I did before our album broke record sales. I feel like an idiot wearing an outfit jocks happily wear even on the weekends, but I’d do it all again if it achieves the same outcome. The surprise on her face when she spotted me was priceless. Only a few weeks ago, I saw nothing but stress on her face when we video chatted.
After kissing me senseless, she pulls back. “How are you here?”
“It’s my last day off before our tour begins, so I had to visit my favorite girl.”
Her eyes glisten with happiness, but it only lingers for a few seconds before changing to panic. “Does Jacob know you're here?”
I shrug, but the chance of giving a verbal response is lost when I notice how quickly we’re gaining attention. Emily attracts the eye of many admirers as it is, but with her knocking my cap off, we’ve got more than admiration directed our way. We’ve got overzealous fans.
“Can I please take a photo with you?” one girl practically begs.
“How about an autograph?” asks another before she’s barged aside by someone doing a live broadcast on Facebook.
I’ll always love and appreciate our fans—they made our album number one—but I only have hours before I’m due back in LA. I can’t have that time wasted on fans when I’m already giving them so much of me.
I'm about to decline their request when Emily nudges me closer to them. “It’s okay.”
“Em—”
“It’s fine. They can only have you now. I get to have you for a lifetime.”
What the fuck did I ever do to deserve her?
After pressing my lips to her temple, a clear sign to the girls giving me heart eyes that I’m taken, I pose for selfies and sign a few shirts and the odd piece of paper. When one shy girl asks Emily if she could take a photo of us together, Emily agrees without any hesitation. She even gets in on the act when we take a handful of Snapchat pics with funny filters. It’s nice seeing my fans respect and admire her as much as I do.
After signing until my hands cramp, I thank them for their support, tug Emily under my arm, then dash to her dormitory. Mercifully, the college girls at Parkwood State are more subdued than their LA counterparts. Only a handful follow us, and they’re soon lost when we dash by other dorms and sororities before reaching Emily’s dorm.
By the time we reach Emily’s actual room, I’m sweating like a pig, and she’s giggling like she’s at the comedy club. I smile along with her... until I spot the packing boxes scattered around her room.
I shift on my feet to face her. “Did you get a new roommate?” I sound disappointed. Rightfully so. It will be hard seeking privacy if she’s been assigned a new roomie.
Emily smiles before shaking her head, but her mouth remains tightlipped. That’s very unlike her.
“Are you moving?”
Her smile increases before she nods.
"Where to?"
She sighs. In my worked-up state, I can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sigh.
I’m really fucking hoping it’s a good one when she murmurs, “I was hoping I could move in with you. If you’ll have me.”
I wiggle my ear, confident my hearing is still damaged from the screams we endured while racing through her college grounds like Peter Rabbit running away from the farmer hoping to dock his tail.
Concern crosses her features the longer I delay in replying. I’m shocked, as confused as fuck about what’s going on. Emily wants a career. She can’t have that and come on tour with me. It’s not possible, is it?
“What about your studies?”
She smiles an uneasy grin, grateful I’ve finally replied, but put off that it isn’t the response she was hoping for. “I requested to study via correspondence. I applied last week. The Dean called today saying it’s been approved.”
“Are you serious!? We can have the best of both worlds?”
When she nods, I band my arms around her petite waist to spin her around the room. “Fuck yes, Emily, you can move in with me! This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”
She squeals with laughter mere seconds before her giggles switch to pleas. “Oh god, please stop. I’m
going to be sick.”
Usually, she pretends to be green at the gills. Today, she looks green at the gills. If I don’t stop twirling her, she’ll smear my preppy boy shoes with vomit.
“Sorry.” I tug her into my chest before dropping my eyes. She still looks a little unwell, but not enough to make me pull back. “Are you sure this is what you want? It’s a little crazy on the road—”
She ends my interrogation by giving me a scorching hot kiss.
Once she has me as dizzy as she feels, she pulls back. “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.” She sucks my lower lip into her mouth before releasing it with a pop. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
She drags me onto her bed to show me exactly how much.
Later that night, we sit on the floor in Emily’s room, eating the pizza her ex-roomie bought for us. Crystal heard from numerous reliable sources that Noah Taylor was camped in one of the dorms, so she knew we’d face issues if we left to get something to eat. Although no one will ever replace Jenni and Nicole in Emily’s life, I’m glad she’s found a good friend in Crystal.
While taking a bite of the greasy pizza, I peer over at Emily. She’s wearing the shirt I removed earlier. Her hair is a tangled mess, and her cheeks are still flushed from our activities before Crystal arrived. She’s so incredibly beautiful, it takes everything I have to let her eat. She needs her energy—even more so after the news she gave me earlier today.
I still can’t believe she’s coming on the road with me. I’m as happy as fuck.
I stop grinning like a lunatic when Emily’s singsong voice trickles into my ears. “Do you want kids, Noah?” She folds her legs under her bottom before screwing up her little nose. “We’ve never talked about it before, so I’m a little unsure of your thoughts.”