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“Is this ok?” I ask him when his gaze drops to them.
Austen nods slowly, his eyes never leaving where we’re connected. I wonder what he’s thinking right now. Is his body as on fire as mine is? Does my touch make him crave me like his does for me?
I don’t dare voice any of my thoughts. Not when I’m still unsure where the two of us stand outside of this fake dating thing. I’d like to think we’re at least friends now rather than what we were before.
We keep quiet the rest of the way there. Me because I’m too lost in the what ifs my mind won’t stop going through. And him because… well, I’m not sure. Maybe he's in his own world too. I’d love a peek inside his mind. If only I could have superpowers. Reading his mind would be my first request.
The driver pulls up in a line of cars. We’re about three back from the carpet, which means we don’t have long before things start.
“Good news. I’ll be the first one out. You only need to look to me until I tell you otherwise, ok?”
He gives me a hesitant nod as the car inches forward. I turn to inspect the situation to see if I recognize anyone in particular.
A flash of red hair catches my attention and I grin. Ken is here. As my publicist and occasional drinking buddy, I’m more than happy to see him.
“You must really like these things,” Austen says, dragging my attention back to him. Not that it ever really leaves him. I’m always aware of the youngest Page sibling when he’s nearby.
I shake my head. “Not all that much. I see someone who can help us out, and I'm relieved. You’ll see.”
He frowns, though he doesn’t push. The car moves forward again, this time not stopping until the glowing red carpet is outside my door.
“You ready?”
Austen nods. I tap the window twice to let Ken know I’m ready. He’s waiting patiently on the other side to help give me the rundown of who is here and where we should go. He’ll actually walk the carpet with us, but less as a guest and more for his role in guiding us.
“Smiles on,” he drawls in his thick Southern accent. “Don’t give them anything to judge you by.”
I slip from the car, then turn to offer Austen my hand. He climbs out, then smooths down his suit. At his full height, he stands well above me and Ken.
My publicist does a double take, then huffs. “The photos on social media do not do him justice. Good lord, do you model? You should with a face like that.”
I shake my head as I guide us away from the head of the line. Ken follows closely, a clipboard in hand so he knows who is who. At least that’s what he’s always said. It could be a crossword puzzle on the damn thing for all I know.
Austen watches me closely as he waits for my lead. His hand is still wrapped around mind, so I squeeze it as I give him what I hope is a comforting smile.
“Corrin! Corrin Ray! Over here!”
The cameras begin flashing the minute I’m past the barrier where the backdrop starts. Austen’s hand grips mine tightly, his nerves shining through. I pull him closer to me, then wrap my arm around his back.
Leaning my head back, I whisper low enough for him to hear. “Pretend it’s prom or something. They’re the eager moms trying to capture their baby’s moment.”
His head tips down close to mine as he matches my grin. “I never went to prom. I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
I can tell he’s teasing me. There’s an undercurrent to his words that makes my mouth water.
“This way, you two,” Ken murmurs from behind us. “And maybe tame down the sexual tension a bit. We get that you’re dating. No need to bedroom eyes it on the carpet.”
Austen looks away at the comment while I throw my head back and laugh. I hear the cameras going off with the move, and I know there will be some type of headline with that photo tomorrow. Not that I really care. Happy press is good press in my book.
I continue to drag Austen with me down the carpet until we reach the last section. This is where the interviews happen.
Ken must sense our nervousness as we wait in line for our turn. “There are a number of celebrities here. Some friendly and some not so much. The reporters are looking for the juiciest story they can get, but that doesn’t mean you have to deal with disrespect. I’ll be right beside you to catch anything out of line, but you can also decline to answer if you want. Goes for both of you.”
Austen nods at him. “I’ve been told I don’t have to say a word.”
I watch as Ken swoons. “My lord his voice is butter. I would kill for him to read me a bedtime story or two.”
At Austen’s frown, I lean over. “He’s a little like Bailey. You know, part of the age play lifestyle.”
