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“Right.” She narrows her eyes at me. “It wouldn’t be a certain someone, would it?”
“Of course.” I jump at the opening she’s giving me, smiling. “Maddox knows everything about me.”
“You know that’s not who I’m talking about.”
“No, I don’t know that.” My brow furrows. “Who are you talking about? EJ? Derrik? Bret?”
“Definitely not Bret.”
I roll my eyes at her comment, making my way back into the mixing side of the studio. “It’s just a song, Lily.”
Leaning against the mixing board, she cocks her head to the side. “And the next thing you’re going to be telling me is you’re working on a lyric that involves avocados and bacon.”
“Bacon goes good with everything.”
We both start laughing, and I take a seat in the chair, fidgeting with one of the levels on the mixing board. I told Lily about eating lunch with Austin, but I didn’t say anything else or act like it was more than it was. At least, I don’t think I did.
“I’m sure Austin would go good with everything, too.”
“Lil!” I scold her, slapping her arm. “Come on, it was just lunch.”
“A lunch you said you felt totally at ease at.”
“Because I did.” My fingers nervously tap the wooden table.
“And you felt like for the first time in a long time you were talking to someone who honestly wanted to listen to you.”
“He did.”
“You see where I’m going with this, don’t you?”
“I see that you’re being crazy, is what I see.”
“Fine, fine.” She waves her hand in the air. I don’t know if I should believe that she’ll drop it. Every once in a while, Lily will get a thought in her head and won’t let it go. “What are we doing tonight?”
“I wanted to hit up my brother’s gig over on Venice Beach. It’s some kind of beach party Adam Coleman is throwing, and Maddox is deejaying it.”
She paws at the air, purring. “I’m so glad your brother is friends with Adam Coleman. I could stare at that yummy piece of man candy all day long.” Her playful tone halts and her face drops. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“I can’t make it tonight. I just remembered I’m supposed to go to my aunt and uncle’s anniversary party.”
“Aw.” I frown. “Don’t worry, I’ll send you pics of Adam so you can drool over them before you go to sleep.” We both start giggling, and I hit the lights to the studio. Flipping up my hoodie, I put on my sunglasses. “How do I look?” I ask.
Although the paparazzi have died down some since they were tipped off, a few still linger outside. They continue to take pictures, but the less they can get of me, the better.
“Like a stalker.”
“Perfect.”
