“Alec Williams?” she asked, an uncertain smile on her face. When he nodded, the woman’s shoulders relaxed. “I thought I recognized you. My daughter absolutely loves the Heartbreakers. Your music is the only thing she listens to, and she’d be crushed if I had theopportunity to get an autograph and came home empty-handed. Do you mind signing something for me?”
“Of course not.” Alec grabbed a pen and a piece of paper off the valet desk. “What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Zoey.”
I watched as Alec scribbled a quick message and his name before handing the paper over to the woman.
“Thank you so much,” she said, clutching the signature in her hands. “This will mean the world to her.”
Alec nodded again, and the woman said good night. I wondered if it was always like this for him—having to sign autographs, posing for pictures, putting on a smile everywhere he went. As backward as it sounded, living like that must’ve been lonely, to never have a moment to himself or be just a face in the crowd. I almost felt sorry for him.
When Alec faced me again, his lips were pressed tight, like he expected me to ask for an autograph too. Instead, I smirked.
“Well, I can honestly say I didn’t see that coming.”
A few seconds passed, and a grin split his face. “Because I’m more the serial-killer type?”
“Yup, totally.” We stared at each other with hesitant smiles, and suddenly it was like he was Aaron again, not Alec Williams of certain Heartbreakers fame.
“Mr. Williams?” the valet asked, materializing at Alec’s side. “Your car is ready.”
Alec took the keys. “Thanks,” he said, and my eyes went big when he slipped the man a fifty. He turned to me. “Do you stillwant me to give you a ride home? There are going to be people out there who will take our picture.”
I gulped. Did I want a bunch of flashing cameras in my face?No, and I suddenly realized this would be a whole lot easier if I’d kept my mask on. But at the same time, I had a feeling the boy standing next to me was worth a few uncomfortable moments in the limelight.
“Yeah,” I said, and my mouth twitched into a smile. “Besides, I probably already missed the bus.”
“I guess you’re stuck with me.” And then he put his hand on the small of my back and guided me out into the night.
***
Walking down the red carpet wasn’t what I’d imagined. I’d watched the Grammys and the Golden Globes and thought I knew what to expect, but when we stepped outside, there weren’t throngs of people screaming Alec’s name, reporters and journalists asking for interviews, or a storm of flashing cameras.
Well, duh.
When I thought about it, the lack of commotion made sense. The guests had already arrived, so the red-carpet part of the event was over. I smiled to myself, thinking that our departure would go unnoticed, but Alec knew better.
“Put your head down,” he whispered as we neared the sidewalk. There was a group of men lounging against the building smoking, but I was too distracted by the car parked in front of us to pay them any attention.
“Wow,” I murmured, shaking my head slowly. I wanted to runmy hands along the sleek lines of the Ferrari, but I kept my arms clamped to my sides. “Is this an F12?”
Alec glanced down at me, eyebrows high. “You know cars?” he asked, but I never got a chance to answer. Someone called out Alec’s name, and I turned my attention to the men rushing toward us. A few stragglers were still putting out their cigarettes against the brick wall, but I was instantly blinded by the flashing lights. Paparazzi.
“Alec, who’s your friend?” one of them asked. He was a tall, burly man, and when he shoved his camera in my face, I finally took Alec’s advice and ducked my head.
Alec didn’t flinch at the attention. Ignoring a bombardment of questions, he opened the passenger’s side door as the men danced around us snapping pictures. He positioned himself between me and the photographers as best he could, and helped me climb inside.
The car was low to the ground, and I was extra careful not to step on my dress as I moved. It would be just my luck to face plant in the street and end up in next week’s edition ofPeople. Once I’d settled in and made sure my dress wasn’t hanging out, Alec shut the door. He hurried around the front of the car—the men following after him, cameras blazing the entire time—and scrambled into the driver’s seat.
The Ferrari roared to life, and before I could tell him how to get to my house, Alec tore away from the curb. Green traffic lights stretched through the next four intersections, and the car shot down the empty street, launching me back against the leather seat.
We were going the wrong way, and I knew I should give himdirections, but I could only focus on how we were flying, because that was what riding in Alec’s car felt like. I wished I could roll down the window and holler into the night, but I didn’t want to seem like a little kid, so I bottled up my exhilaration and tried to tame the buzz that was surging through my body. There was, however, no way to contain my grin, and it spread across my face, wild and wide.
A few blocks later, Alec slowed the car. He glanced at me before his gaze flickered back to the road.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Considering I’m sitting in a sexy-ass car,” I said, “things could bemuchworse.”
