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Fish chuckles. “Thank you. But I’m quite happy letting Dax sing our songs. Trust me, he’s not holding me back.”
The girl notices me and shrieks. “You’re his girlfriend! The one from the jumbotron!”
“Hi.”
“Can I take a selfie with you, too? You’re so cute!”
“Uh.” But she’s flinging herself between us, so I huddle up and smile for the camera.
Her photo taken, she says to me, “You’re so lucky. I hope one day someone will look at me the way Fish looked at you tonight.” She swoons. “The way he sang to you . . . Gah!”
I smile at Fish. “I hope that for you, too. It’s pretty awesome.”
A bodyguard arrives and escorts the young woman away, gently. And as she leaves, Fish suggests we take our first-ever photo of the two of us. We take several selfies, one of which features Fish kissing my cheek, and Fish asks if he can upload that one to not only his personal Instagram account, but the official 22 Goats account, too.
“The whole world is probably uploading videos of me singing to you tonight,” he explains. “I kind of want to make us ‘Instagram official’ myself.”
“Awesome.”
He uploads the shot of him kissing my cheek with a caption that reads, “My beautiful, talented, hot girlfriend. #OneLuckyGoat.”
And that’s it. Suddenly, I can’t stand sharing my hot boyfriend with the world any longer. I want to be alone with him. Naked in his bed. I want to give myself to Matthew, in every possible way.
He smiles lasciviously, like he’s reading my mind, and puts out his hand. “I’d better get the rising star back to our room, eh? She needs her beauty sleep for the cameras tomorrow.”
“Well, she needs to get to bed. That part is true.”
Reed appears. “Get our girl to the hotel, Fish. She’s got a long day of shooting tomorrow, now that we’ve added so much to the storyboard.”
“I was just saying the same thing,” Fish replies.
Reed turns his head and calls to Maddy. “Hey, Director! What time is Alessandra’s call time in the morning?”
Maddy strides over. “Seven.” She grimaces. “Sorry. With all the new scenes we’ve added, we need to get all your performance scenes into the can before we start shooting with everyone else. A car will pick you and Fish up at your hotel at six thirty. Just roll out of bed and flop into the back seat. We’ll have hair and makeup there for you. Bagels and coffee and several different wardrobe options.”
“Such a production,” I say.
“Of course,” Maddy replies. “We’re going to hit this out of the park for you, girlie. This is going to be an amazing video.”
“Owen!” Reed calls out. “Would you make sure there’s a shit-ton of coffee on set in the morning?”
“Already done, boss. I’ve got everything under control.”
“Of course you do.”
I say goodnight to everyone, give Georgina an extra-tight squeeze, and then hop into the back seat of a yellow cab with Fish to head back to our hotel . . . where, to be perfectly honest, I don’t intend to get my “beauty sleep” any time soon. Because, hey, that’s what coffee is for. As far as I’m concerned, a girl only gets one chance to lose her virginity on the night her sweet rock-star boyfriend sang “Fireflies” and “People Like Us” to her in front of tens of thousands.
Twenty-Six
Alessandra
“After you,” Fish says, motioning to the opened door of our hotel room. And when I walk past him into the room, I discover it’s absolutely crammed with roses. Mostly red bouquets. But one yellow, too. And they’re everywhere. Spraying out gloriously from vases on the dresser, nightstand, a side table, desk, and coffee table.
“Aw, Matthew,” I whisper, whirling around to face him. “Thank you.”
We kiss passionately, until he pauses and looks at the clock on the nightstand.
“I’ll be fine tomorrow,” I say, reading his facial expression. “Adrenaline and caffeine will keep me going all day tomorrow, I promise.”
He’s breathing hard. “I want you to know there’s no pressure tonight. No rush. No expectations . . .”
I launch myself at him without replying. And our conversation is abruptly over.
Panting, he pulls off his shirt and pants and briefs, as I do the same—stopping, however, when I’m standing in my bra and undies. I want to get naked, of course. But I’ve never stripped down completely naked during any of our video chats, and I’ve been fantasizing for quite some time about Fish removing these last literal and symbolic swaths of cloth.
I look him up and down, my breathing labored and my body on fire. His penis is hard and straining. His eyes ablaze. And I’m struck at how aroused I feel at the sight of him. Before tonight, I’ve seen Fish’s naked body on my computer screen. But there’s no comparison for the full effect of his nakedness, combined with his body heat and proximity. Especially when I’m gazing at his nakedness while the scent of roses swirls in the air.
